What is worse, she feels she knows Diana Hunter now, not things about her but her, the woman herself, the way she knew her own body and her own head. She knows Hunter like an old friend or an old chair, the impression of her marked as if by long acquaintance. Borrowed understanding. Stolen. Does that sort of thing have to go somewhere when it is torn away? Was it ripped away from its owner and somehow stored, mitochondrial metadata riding the signal, baked into her by the trauma of a witnessed stroke?
