ⅹⅹ- [voice]

[mnementomori]

[a soft voice that might be familiar to some speaks up after a moment, a tinge of weariness in it.]

A lot of people...left again. I want people to be happy at home, but...


What...do you do when...your memories start to fade? I don't want to lose them forever.

Comments

[mnementomori]

I'm glad to hear that. [she does sound genuinely relieved.]

I...I haven't had any memories long enough to know what happens to them.

[imperial_ray]

How do you mean?

[mnementomori]

Well, I'm not very old...and people never left like this before.

[imperial_ray]

How old are you?

[mnementomori]

Um...

I think by now it's...two years and six months.

[imperial_ray]

Hmm... Only slightly younger than I am.

[mnementomori]

Really? Everyone else I've met is a lot older. And they think I am, too. But it's just because I look like--because that's how I look.

[imperial_ray]

I come across that assumption a lot as well, but I'm actually only a little over three years old.

[mnementomori]

Really? [she feels a little better knowing that.]

Does that mean...you were made, too?

[imperial_ray]

N-no... Gears are just... different.

[mnementomori]

Gears...is that what you're called...?

[she hesitates, the sound of cloth rustling as she clasps her hands together nervously.]

I'm a--..."replica".

[imperial_ray]

Do you mind talking about what a replica is?

[mnementomori]

[there's a pause, and though Dizzy can't see it she shakes her head a little and braces herself.]

Mm.

A...a copy. Of a person.

[imperial_ray]

... How much of you is copied?

[mnementomori]

[another pause.]

I'm not...sure. My...power, and my...my memories were. But I have my own memories now.