Zantara is dead. Dead by my hand. In the darkness of a lab beneath Old Carthag, I was compelled to kill him by a Tleilaxu Facedancer. The Reverend Mother who gave me my pain box test was a lie. My life, my memories. A lie. I am a ghola, grown from the flesh of a corpse. I lived another life, one that I know nothing about. I have so many questions. What do the Tleilax want? How many other ghola are there? What is Fenrings interest in all of this? But above all, who am I? Who was I? Perhaps Ariste or Fenring can help me find the answers.