The assassin has overcome my final line of defense, and now plans to murder me. In the end what separates a man from a slave? Money? Power? No, a man chooses, a slave obeys! You think you have memories. A farm. A family. An airplane. A crash. then this place. Was there really a family? Did that airplane crash, or, was it hijacked? Forced down, forced down by something less than a man, something bred to sleepwalk through life unless activated by a simple phrase, spoken by their kindly master.