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As far as Fred could tell, neither he nor Irena were any different from
when they had been consumed. That, at least, was a relief. However, Fred
still had a sick feeling in his gut as he sat on the bowl. Being eaten by
that... thing was bad enough, but being put back together was worse. He
remembered having an alien presence ransack his mind, having his body
taken apart atom by atom, and dying. But was it him? His body had been
destroyed. Perhaps somehow his soul had migrated into this new body, but
from what the Archetype had said, his memories could easily be inserted
into a new body. Was he himself, or some sort of copy?
He didn't know wether Irena was thinking the same thoughts, but she looked troubled as well. The lumbering soldier golems picked Fred and Irena up in their cold metal arms. "You will now be taken to the holding pens," said the Archetype. "Do not attempt to escape. Tracking devices have been implanted in you so that I will know your location in every moment. If you succeed in escaping, the tracking devices will release a poison which will destroy you, and new copies will be created." The mechanical minions marched off, and Fred and Irena had the shock of being jolted around in the creatures' arms to the considerable shock they were already feeling. Eventually, they reached a large structure with imposing black walls. Like everything else Fred had seen here, it seemed to combine utilitarian efficiency with a flair for the dramatic.
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10/30/2002 2:43:19 PM
Extending Enabled
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