“I got hurt,” was all he could honestly say. “I don’t remember much of anything from before the Revolution. Hell, I don’t really remember the Revolution.”

The line of cars started moving again. Manny popped the car back into drive, and they rolled further into the Heavenly Kingdom. Both men were quiet for a minute, until Roland spoke again.

“That’s why I’m doing this, you know.” He wasn’t sure why he was saying all this, but Roland found he couldn’t stop himself. “Jim, the guy who brought me on, knows some fuckin’ East Coast surgeon who specializes in post-human brains. They think they can give me back my memory. This rescue mission is how I pay for that.”

“Are you sure you want those memories back?” Manny asked.

“The fuck do you mean? I don’t even know who I am, or was, right now. Wouldn’t you want that shit back if you lost it?”

Manny glanced over at him. They locked eyes.

“I don’t know,” the kid said. “You say you’ve killed at least twelve thousand people. I’ve been working as a fixer for the last two years, and I’ve seen a lot of fucked up eyes. Dead eyes on men who’ve done too much killing. But none of them hold a candle to what’s going on there.” He pointed to Roland’s face. “I dunno. I got a feeling your past is one big, fucked-up nightmare. Maybe you’re better off without it.”

Roland was quiet for a while, and Manny didn’t say anything else. They crept along in stops and starts and inched closer to Plano as the sun cracked open the horizon. The kid had a point, Roland decided. He’d worried about the same thing himself since Jim made the offer. Every hour or so he still found himself thinking about the driver of that technical. The man had reeked of love.

And yeah, the guy’d been fighting to establish a Christofascist hell state. But somehow that didn’t mitigate his death in Roland’s head. Most causes were shit. Most men who fought for anything fought for nightmares. That guy, and all his friends, had just been doing what felt right based on the shit lives they’d lived. The same thing had to be true for most of the soldiers and insurgents Roland had killed. How many civilians did you kill, Roland? How many lives did you end just to keep the battle drugs flowing?

When he thought about it that way, he really didn’t want his memories back.