Rom Packs - Mister

Each fragment resisted. Each one tried to speak. Mister Rom Packs would plug a cable into the appropriate port— SMELL, SOUND, REGRET —and listen. And then he would say something like, “No, Harold, the meeting wasn’t your fault,” or “She didn’t leave because of the coffee; she left because you were never there,” and the fragment would sigh through a speaker or shudder through a servo and then collapse into a small, inert object: a domino, a bent paperclip, a single false eyelash.

Then, with a wet, tearing sensation behind her eyes, the SELF fragment left her. Mister Rom Packs

“Where is it?” Kestrel asked.

The connection hit her like a fall.