I’ve been in this room too long with no one but Shepard. He’s starting to feel more real than everything else. He’s starting to feel like the one thing that’s supposed to be here. It should be the opposite—it is the opposite. Shepard is a Normal. And Normals don’t matter. I mean, I’m sure they matter to other Normals—but they’re not supposed to matter to me. They’re supposed to be like ants. Or plants. Important to the overall ecosystem, but not important.
