“Last February had 29 days. It wasn’t a leap year, but me and 28 of my clones each remember that month as if it were a day.”
“It wasn’t my day. My week. My month. My year. My life. God damn it.”
“My clones just honored me with the 2012 Man of the Year Award. But I wasn’t fooled—I knew they were really honoring themselves.”
“live each day as if it were my last.”
“This is days and days and months and years and all the minutes in between, just you me.”
“Joshie had always told Post-Human Services staff to keep a diary, to remember who we were, because every moment our brains and synapses are being rebuilt and rewired with maddening disregard for our personalities, so that each year, each month, each day we transform into a different person, an utterly unfaithful iteration of our original selves, of the drooling kid in the sandbox.”