"I blame me." He tells her bitterly. Even when everyone else is saying it isn't his fault, he can't help but put it on his own shoulders. It's his body, his mind. There should have been something he could have done.

And yet... he really doesn't like the way she's asking that question. He's seen what she can do. "It's three-fourths of an inch, maybe. But it's not just the chip. It's got tendrils all over my brain; it's fused to me. The last time I had it taken out it took a specialized alien brain surgeon over an hour to sever everything while I had to be awake to tell him what he could or couldn't cut. I can't remember the names of my childhood dogs anymore now. I almost lost the ability to speak. This isn't simple."