You are Mercymorn. You have scattered memories of a world pre and post-apocalypse. You know few and many things. You know you love Cristobel. You know you hatelovehate Augustine. You know what parts are supposed to be in a body. You know that John is God.
You sit down at the canteen to have your peas and your cannoli. A looming shadow drifts over to sit across the table from you. An image from your past that seems to sit on the tip of your memory. Blonde, teased out hair, a small nose, small ears, wide pink lips, and luminous yellow eyes. An eight foot tall Barbie doll setting her tray down to eat. You see she has cannoli and peas too. You nervously take a bite and watch her mirror you. She wrinkles her nose at the taste of food and begins eating the fork instead. You watch in fascination and horror as she starts chewing the tray next, mechanically moving a jaw with far too many sharp teeth. She blinks at you and tells you, “It wouldn’t make you happier if you kissed Augustine, but it would make you less tense about it.”
You say to John, “She has to go.”