He began to think, his mind caught in a delirious stream of consciousness, as though he were on the verge of grasping something elusive.
If B-00 had always remembered him, had always preserved his habits with such flawless perfection... Then, had he himself ever remembered? How deeply intertwined had he once been with that existence?
That thought sprouted like a venomous seedling in Julian's mind, its insidious roots latching onto every neuron. He felt utterly conflicted, a dull, agonizing discomfort clawing at his chest.
Everything he had ever believed about his own memories was now steadily crumbling into shattered fragments. The recurring memories of a frail Julian suffering in the Sterling household, or his calculated maneuvers on the battlefield of commerce, might be an artificial facade masking a terrifying truth.
