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Summary
“So we answer the time-honored question by taking a third option,” she says, with a ghost of a smile. “When confronted by our clone, we neither fight nor fuck. We monologue.”
“Dialogue,” you parry. “For all we’re being mindful of our prefixes.”
Rose attempts a thought experiment. Some Strilondes are gentler with their splinter-selves than others. Spoiler alert: they fuck.
