Each one of them had once been a human being. The aggregate of all their happiness and sadness had been immense. The memories they’d held in their collective heads could have overloaded all the servers in the world. That severed foot used to be a living, breathing, walking, real human with thoughts and memories and emotions. That slice of brain had once stored the cumulative thoughts acquired over decades that had made the donor the person they’d been. So much work for nothing. That a living thing should be there and then gone just seemed so impossible. So impractical. So . . . wasteful,
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