Dictation on. My legs hurt. I keep reaching down to rub them but of course they're not there. I tell you, it's one thing to hear about ghost limbs, another to be haunted by them. Moment my hand passes into empty space I'm back in Bridgewater and that nano-haze is stripping my legs layer by layer as the squad's medbot drags me out of the line of fire. And I start screaming like I was screaming there, in two places at once, two halves but one of them gone forever... dissolved. And through the wall of the infirmary I can hear them cheering. Cheering the MRB for saving our asses. Covering our evac back here. Crediting them with NYC still standing after a week. Do they even hear when I start screaming? Sergeant says I'll have prosthetics fitted tomorrow, good as new. Both know he's lying. I'll never be good again.