Everyone is exactly like me. There is no one like me. The rough fabric of my cotton nightgown chafes so I lie very still. They say my discomfort comes from being built like one accustomed to niceties. How is that fair when I myself have never experienced anything but copies of the real thing? My entire life is an imitation. I am an Imitation. I've been here five years. Training. Preparing. Waiting. And now I have a letter. My assignment has begun. I am a prisoner. I am not Raven Rogen. I am here to die.