Listen to me—I am your echo. I would rather break the world than lose you. I see one solution. It’s—it should be—easy. Let me go. And I’ll let you. I will write their letter. Send it. Do not, under any circumstances, read what you next receive from me. When you do not die, they will see the gambit’s lost. Perhaps your interest in me was a feint. Perhaps I wasn’t yet ripe for you. Perhaps you spotted the trap before it sprang. Perhaps Commandant was wrong. She has been wrong before, and so have the machines. Just—don’t read what I send you after this. Don’t answer. And we go our separate ways.
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