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A subject woke up in a ward surrounded by psychoactive screens, and was told that they had a hole in their memory. The screens showed them bits of information, drips and drabs, and immersed them in stories, lived experiences that might concern them.
As the images and narratives flitted past, the subject recalled bits of their past life, and mused of their relationship to their sister-in-law. They came to the realization that they were injured in a war using time travel between the Great Houses and another force. But the stories shown couldn't all be true, they contradict.
Eventually the screens turned off and the subject awoke. They heard noises outside their room, and mused on the nature of The Enemy. Once merely real, it had become fear itself, imagination, either an infection of it or it in and of itself. The narratives they watched tried to prepare them, but ultimately they were unable to face the horror, and so they finally insisted that others use their memories, distilled down to inoculate themselves against the infection. (PROSE: Subjective Interlock)