The Fragmented I
The mirror did not lie, but it did not tell the whole truth either. The man staring back at me looked thirty-five, with a sharp jawline and eyes the color of a winter sea. He looked like a man in his prime. But I knew better. I was the twelfth iteration of Julian. In the year 2140, death had been solved by the "Century-Backup." Every hundred years, your consciousness was uploaded to a secure...
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