The One Thing I Hope They Will Never Understand

I focus my mind on the one thing I hope they will never be able to understand. The one thing my mother used to say in her clear ringing voice about fulfilling a human desire, an oft-repeated half-joke that is now my anchor to memory. Dr. D'Améji weirdly approaches me as Tunchi steps aside, useless boy, my own flesh and blood. How far the apple has fallen from the tree. He pulls something grey and bloody out of my neck and fiddles. It's never the optimum. It's always just a little bit off.