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This line of questioning was addressed in the mock conferences, and Cam knows his answers by heart "Everyone feels like they’re one of a kind, don’t they? That makes me no different from anyone else"

"Mr Comprix--I’m an expert in dialects, but I can’t place yours You keep shifting in and out of vocal styles"

Cahts into words, without thinking about how those words are co out "Well, I suppose that all depends on which brain cells I’"

"So then your verbal eloquence caain, the kind of question he’s expecting "If I were a computer, it would be hardwired, but I’anic Human But to answer your question, some of my skills came from before, others have co"

"But you’re not a huht be made fro"

So about this stateuarded place He’s not prepared for the e red!" Cauage center He clears his throat and finds the words "You’re trying to provokebehind your cape, but it won’t keep you froored"

"Is that a threat?"

"I don’t knoas that an insult?"

Mur for thelance, but Ca in hiive it voice

"Is there anyone else out there who thinks that I’m somehow subhuman?"

And as he looks out to the thirty reporters, hands go up Not just the big-haired woman and the heckler from the back, but others as well As many as a dozen Do they reallythe cape?

"Monet!" he shouts "Seurat! Close to the canvas, their work looks like splotches of paint But at a distance you see athe media screens pulls up a spontaneous Monet, but rather than punctuating his point, it makes his comments seem contrived "You people are all small-minded and have no distance!"

"Sounds like you’re very full of yourself," someone says

"Who said that?" He looks around the crowd No one will take credit "I’m full of everyone else--and that’s spectacular"

Roberta approaches and tries to take over the microphone, but he pushes her away "No!" he says "They want to know the truth? I’ them the truth!"

And suddenly the questions come like bullets

"Did they tell you to say all this?"

"Is there a reason why you were made?"

"Do you know all their names?"

"Do you dreas?"

"If you’re made of the unwanted, what makes you think you’re any better?"

The questions coin to rattle itself into fragments He doesn’t knohich one to answer--if he can even answer any of the have?"

"Can you reproduce?"

"Should he reproduce?"

"Is he even alive?"

He can’t slow his breathing He can’t capture his own thoughts He can’t see clearly Voices er picture Faces Ato focus hiet hi

"Red light! Brake pedal! Brick wall! Pencils down!" He takes a deep, shuddering breath "Stop?" It’s a plea to Roberta She can

"Looks like he’s not wound too tight," sorabs the ainst it Screeching Distorted

"I am more than the parts I’m made of!"

"I am more!"

"I am"

"I"

"I"

And a single voice says calmly, simply, "What if you’re not?"

""

"That’s all for now," Roberta tells the jabbering crowd "Thank you for co"