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The whirring noise, the deluge of memories; she gasped and inhaled like a swimmer caught beneath the undercurrent, not of waves, but of minds.
There was no longer any separation between “self” and “other.” In the Mod everything was connected.
“Put the gun down, Barlow, we both know it won’t avail you. You forget, we are of the same mind, only I’m faster. I know what you’re going to do before even you. You haven’t got the stomach for it.”
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