9 — Memories Having my own apartment was a bit of a drain on Daelus' finances–or rather renting out a ft for Sheam was a drain on my finances–but I was growing more incapable of lying to myself. I was doing this because it felt good.

  It was small. Just a studio. It overlooked a narrow street that ran behind the museum. The view was terrible. Natural light was non-existent. But it felt more like home than the estate that the delegation had procured for Daelus–for me.

  It was close to work so Sheam could go home quickly and once settled, it was Daelus’ turn. Navigating the bustling twisty streets of the city was not easy when controlling two bodies at once. We had to take turns.

  It had been an hour and my other body–Daelus, was still sitting in his office. I'd get to it. I wanted just five more minutes as Sheam.

  I was arranging the items on the top of my dresser. It was just fussing about. I didn't need them. I couldn't use them. My hair didn't need brushing and the jewelry was just decoration for the ft, each piece on their own fancy dispy pedestal. I could wear them, I liked wearing them, but if I needed to de-manifest quickly they'd fall to the floor.

  Something nagged at my mind. It wasn't quite deja vu but the sensation began the same way. It was something about how I had arranged the dresser items. It reminded me of–

  Suddenly the image of an open window was in my mind. Outside I could see rooftops and beyond them a distant tower. The room was filled with the glow of the morning sun.

  My skin was needles and pins, I sat down on the bed.

  It was a memory of the old world. A memory of my own room in my family's apartment. I had always arranged my items on my dresser–

  No, that couldn't have been right. What items would those have been? I was a boy then. I must have been growing confused.

  Daelus got up from his chair in his office in the museum. He locked his desk and his office and bid the night watchman–who was nearly finished buttoning everything down (it was a part time role) a good night.

  He wound through the streets of the city to his estate. Thankfully nothing came careening down the boulevards towards him because his mind was definitely elsewhere.

  His old life. The old world. They said it was thousands of years ago, but that number always seemed to change in the telling. He remembered his family, sort of. They were completely devoted to the Benefactors. It was they who pushed him into the roles that eventually led to him becoming a delegate. Daelus was, for his own part, devoted. But he wasn't really a true believer. He trusted his family and wanted to make them proud. But the deeper he got into the organization the more he felt like–

  Why couldn't he remember his family in more detail? Why couldn't he remember–

  Why could I–Sheam–remember?

  I remembered that family. They were always unhappy with me for some reason.

  Stop daydreaming, Daelus. Those are the wrong books, Daelus. Full of degenerate ideas. Read these instead. Why are you walking and holding your head like that? Do you want people to think you're weak?

  And the Benefactors. They were supposed to be about preserving society. They were supposed to be about protecting everyone. Stability, safety, comfort. Why did so much of what they had us doing feel like it was about consolidating power?

  Shit, I had just left Daelus in the middle of the–

  With a start, Daelus resumed his walk home, double time. It was a hallucination caused by over-exerting himself, he reasoned. He was misusing the entourage ability, he feared. He told himself that the memories that had awakened were going to fade, like from a dream after waking.

  The memories did not fade.