2024? I hear a weird groan and realise it has come out of my own mouth. I’ve finally lost the plot. One of us is definitely mad. It’s the only explanation for the ridiculous thing I just heard her say. I goggle at her, goldfish-like, too shocked to speak. She flicks a nervous look at the others. ‘Oh dear,’ she says. ‘You must think it is still . . . what, 2012? 2013? I suppose you would.’ She breathes out a long exhalation before speaking again. ‘That’s when you would have entered the Facility in the first place as a small child. Time was essentially suspended then for you. We realise, from having been able to observe you these months, that much of what was happening inside your brain was probably based on the donor boy’s real memories. You must have been living his teenage years. I’ve no doubt that it all seemed entirely real to you.’ I lean forwards and rest my head on my hands, fingers in my hair.
