[ Versions of his friends. People who look and sound and practically are the people from his home. But they're not, are they? Not if they're clones. Not if he's a clone. ]

Yeah. I get that. I know you're not me.

[ But he sees his point. The kedan - he assumes it's them - are getting their memories and personalities from somewhere. They're not just fabricating them. Unless... Are they? There are a lot of things about his world that doesn't make sense. Maybe that's why. Maybe it's because the story he's been fed is a little sloppy in some places. ]

If it's different dimensions, that's easy. Just tear a hole in the space-time continuum. I've seen it. It's possible.

[ And he doesn't want to talk about it. ]

But if we're just meat-suits with implanted memories, there's no guarantee they've come from anywhere. Maybe it's all just fiction. Some kedan paid to write lives for people like screenwriters write movies. I fly around in a metal suit. How realistic is that really?