I turned to Ensign Molly and said, “Dammit, do something!” “There’s nothing I can do,” she said, her eyes uncertain and full of sadness. “They’ve been like that ever since they killed you.” I stared at Molly and felt my mouth fall open. Time stopped. The door. The old wooden door. The cabinet where Molly had kept her suicide device. I turned toward them. My godmother’s voice echoed in my head. You are currently freed of the shackles of mortality. Your limited brain no longer impedes access to that record. The only blocks to your memory are those you allow to be. I remembered the door. The
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