When my eyes widened, his mimicked the gesture in such a helpless way that I couldn’t help but have mercy on him.

“I can’t be angry with you for having the same questions I did,” I confessed. “I thought the man who loved me would know the truth about me—but it was Lyman who understood.”

The name still ruffled him.

“I hadn’t wanted to fool myself before I knew for sure, so I took you at your word. You are, after all, a learned man,” I said, letting us both smile a moment without saying how he’d almost convinced me that my entire being was a matter of science. “But we were wrong. That isn’t what I am. I am something new, and it makes sense that Lyman could tell, having lived with Dolores for so long. Of course he would know that I’m not a reflection of something passed.”

“I would do anything to take back what I said, to be the one who really saw you.” When he raked his fingers through his hair, he only managed to pull it out of place. “I knew you were something more, I swear I always did.”

“I believe you,” I said. “I do. But inside the Vault, your imagination could only go so far. And being at a loss for explanation just couldn’t sit well with you.”

“We’re not in the Vault anymore, Elsie.” I’d never heard him so insistent, his voice so full of emotion. “If you’d only tell me now...”

Whatever he was going to promise, whatever he hoped to convey could be different now, he must have lost his nerve. Or perhaps he couldn’t forgive his previous failings, so could not imagine that I would either. Whatever the case, Harvey was quiet when the last bit of sunlight slid below the skyline as evening fell.

“I’m more than a memory,” I said, and my skin tingled as though being embroidered with the evening. As though my name would appear on it, as on my cherished robe. “I am Elsie, Harvey Parrish, not Dolores. And I am an epiphany.”

Neon lights flickered against the windshield before steadying into a brightness so strong that it seemed to shine from everywhere. Pouring through the windows, the automobile grew warm inside this light and, beneath the beaming sign, so did I.

“I began as one epiphany and I never stopped having them; I’ve been having them all along, growing brighter every time while other Mems fade and expire. Real people have glimpses of me, realizations they then digest—the moments fade or time erodes them. But I am a realization, separated from Dolores before I could be changed.” I thought of her then, of the dim lights in her kitchen and of the things that Lyman said. “No matter what her father hoped, extraction means I cannot be forgotten.”