It was a lifetime in a moment; a liquid surge in his soul as that –that vile machine ripped everything that he ever was away from him. His mind flooded with terror, he couldn't think, couldn't breathe, could only fucking scream with the voice of someone who was so beyond fear –
NoNoPleaseNoMaster-PleaseNoNoNoNoNO!
He could transfer his memories, the sum of his experiences, into the stone that Qui-gon had given him. He was strong enough to do that. But no jedi, even one as powerful and strong in the light (not to mention inherently stubborn) as Obi-wan, has ever successfully countered a mindwipe.
Back on Coruscant, safe in the jedi temple, they make their report. The council applauds the padawan's quick thinking and resourcefulness even as his master, the celebrated Master Qui-gon Jinn, basks in his pride over his young apprentice's accomplishment.
Obi-wan remains silent and humble, knowing that he was not quiteas successful as everyone seems to think he was but still unsure as to how. Oddly, this lack of understanding does not bother him; especially strange given his well documented problems reigning in his temper. The fact of the matter is that he doesn't really seem to feel any emotion now, beyond this current, polite confusion and a mild form of frustration (that he felt when he discovered that his Master had used up all the hot water when he tried to use the fresher on the way home). And of course he is concerned about this wholly bizarre lack of true emotion but if there any words to describe this new emptiness inside of him, to explain why, exactly, everything is not alright, he has forgotten them.
Qui-gon is so consumed with his pride, with his happiness that Obi-wan was not turned into some lifeless zombie (like so many legion of criminals and political dissidents on that Force forsaken planet), that he does not realize how particularly adept the boy has become in the matter of emotional control.
Obi-wan Kenobi will never be arrogant or proud, the fatal flaw so many of his fellow jedi failed to recognize within themselves. He feels, forever, that he is less than the sum of his parts; a defective human with a patchwork soul. So it is ironic that this imperfection, this humble certainty of his basic unimportance in the face of others (and the Force), is the foundation of his wisdom as one of the greatest Jedi Masters the Order has ever produced.