I knew he was conceited, and I had to believe there was some good in him. How wrong I was. I had believed in my mind-neighbor, my brother from the old world. His decision to froce his opinion on the new world is what brought his demise. The death wasn't definite, although he made it so, hoping to achieve a second life through death. When I saw him after that, he looked a little weird, although his height and weight were remained the same, as did his features. The flaw eluded me until much later, when his original thoughts found enough strength to decide upon his actions. He continued to decieve, one person after another, happy to recieve small amounts of praise as he reached each goal. He became manic, the thoughts controlling him. Both he and I knew that the only way to relieve these thought and have them leave entirely, and to never come back, was for him to die a true death, for him to sacrifice himself for others, a whole race, me. We both knew this would destroy an entirely different race in itself, the race who had programmed these thoughts. The other race was bent on obliderating the original race, for their own 'good'. He kept me out of the line of fire, and sacrificed himself willingly, saving one race and destorying another. The one species went on, not knowing of his sacrifice, save a special few. The other race remains destroyed, all but one. The single one carries on the legacy of his people. This is me.