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Singing Basket
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“I’d like to say that she’s doing well, but she isn’t. She’s in trouble, and I don’t know how to help her.”
“Is she…”
“A cyborg, like me.”
“...I thought that she was dead.”
“You’re not entirely wrong; She can’t remember herself. I need information. Talk to me, Morgan.”
Morgan pauses, seeming lost in thought. “...her name was Jeannine Lyotard. Well, it was one name that she used, at any rate. She was adopted by some French doctors, and they’re the ones who gave her that name. She always insisted that it wasn’t her real name, though.”
“Did she ever tell you her old name?”
“No, but if I had to guess, it’d be something Brazilian. She had a bit of an accent which she could never hide, and had chemical burns consistent with, uh… stuff. Stuff that happened in Brazil. If she was a war child, then it’d make sense for her to want to hide it. Immigration hasn’t been too kind since then.” He awkwardly shifts his gaze around the room. “I, um… I’m not sure what else I can tell you.”
“That’s alright. I’ve got other questions, though.”
“Well I’m not going anywhere whether I like it or not.”
“That ship you were talking about earlier… is there any chance it went back in time?”
“Nothing can go back in time, that’s just not possible. What I want to believe is that they slipped into a wormhole and got flung all the way to the other side of the Milky Way. Maybe that pilot’s out hanging out with aliens now. Hey, do you think that aliens exist?”
Yeah, and they’re birds. Still, I decide to keep my mouth shut on that particular topic. I deflect to the next question.
“What’s your full name?”
“Morgan Rosenak. Why?”
“...does the name Roderick mean anything to you?”
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