How can you be sure?" "I'm a doctor, Jenna. And a scientist." "Does that make you an authority on everything? What about a soul, Father? When you were so busy implanting all your neural chips, did you think about that? Did you snip my soul from my old body, too? Where did you put it? Show me! Where? Where in all this groundbreaking technology did you insert my soul?

The world before us is a postcard, and I imagine the story we are writing on it.

It's the unknown that I fear, the bites of memories that still have no connections.

When your life has had few events to occupy it, it's amazing how a simple encounter can seem like an entire three-act play.

But I am more than a name. More than they tell me

I created an icicle sculpture in the snow. White on white.

Percentages! Those are for economists, polls, and politicians. Percentages can't define your identity.