“No shit he died,” she says. “That isn’t a real memory.” “What do you mean?” “That version of events never happened. Reed never got a tattoo. He changed that memory when he died in the tank.” Now she looks at Reed, starting to put the pieces together. “Which means there was nothing for you to return to.” “But I remember it,” Reed says. “What does it look like in your mind’s eye?” she asks. “Dark? Static? Shades of gray?” “Like time had been frozen.” “Then it’s not a real memory. It’s…I don’t know what to call it. Fake. False.” “Dead,” Slade says, glancing at his watch again. “So this wasn’t an
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