They tested me again and again to ensure that the implant had properly salvaged the functions of damaged tissues. “An experimental procedure,” a doctor said once, actually volunteering information. I had learned to hoard my questions. In return, they accepted it when I chose not to say if I felt any pain here, or here, or here, if I remembered. Perhaps they thought I no longer understood pain, or my past. They were right on one count.

Red Knight, they called me, like a chess piece. I tried to tell them that there was no red knight in chess, that it could never be played. They never answered.