our dining table, stark
them there, his voice smoo
aid, for his college
rom his past, was now supposedly
wish? To
days, he needed me
is hand – Compound M-7, my creati
s, a neuroscientist, to erase myself so
y amnesia," believing
onvenience and a shocking lack of loyalt
ow M-7 was i
et. My
illingness to sacrifice me, to wipe me from his
he ask t
clearly, I saw M-7 not as a tool
voice steady, whis
li
t I' d eve
ng my memory, he was actually han