I see her in my dreams tonight. She is the same person I see when I look in the mirror. She has my hair, and my face, and even my body. Yet unlike the girl in the mirror she moves, and reaches out to touch my cheek.

Her voice is low, like silk, and almost like a purr. But underneath I can almost hear something, something that is familiar to me. Something that is me. "Who are you?" she asks. The question is straight-forward enough. People ask it every day. How long have I been searching for the answer to that question?

The name they have given me is Gyro.

"But who is 'Gyro'?"

I don't know.

"I see." And unlike the others I have met, she does see.

Why are you wearing my face?

For a moment I think she has no answer to this question, for her face is curious and almost surprised. "I see you have forgotten, child of mine," she says.

I do not know you.

"I shouldn't expect so, if you don't even know who you are," she says. "No, look at me... I am you, and you are me. We are one, and many." I do not understand. She does not look angry like so many others have; she looks merely amused. "You are the child of my soul. A simulacrum--a copy of me. I suppose it was fair foolish of me to leave you for so long--now you have come into your own being. Well, I will have no child of mine's blood on my hands. So I must teach you."

What is there to learn?

She smiles. Her eyes are blue, like mine. "There is much for you to learn," she says. "Who is this man?"

The name he has told me is Flash Man.

Her tone still one of loving patience, she asks, "And who is Flash Man?"

He is...

"What is he?"

He is...

"Who is he?"

...I don't know.

"Do you love him?" she asks.

I do.

"Does he love you?"

He does.

She smiles at me. "There have been others," she says. "There have been those who say they love you, or pretend to love you, or they love your body. How do you tell them apart?"

I have no answer for this. But I know... I know he is the person for me. The person I want to love more than anyone.

"And what if he doesn't love you?" she asks.

I don't know.

"We must decide what must be done," she says.

Decide... I don't know what to do. I don't know anything that I used to. Yet I can remember things... but they're so far away. I can't reach them. How can I decide?

Her smile is sad, and her voice, when she speaks, is my voice. "If he doesn't love you for who you are, you must leave him. You must find someone just for you."

And how will I know if he loves me just for me?

"You will know."

How do I know who is me?

"You will know... child of mine."

And then she is gone, and I am alone. So I think, and I remember.

I remember awakening to see the face of the Man Who Made Me. I remember seeing the Man Who Touched Me, the one who has the look of a flower. I remember being touched, being used... I remember being saved by the Man With Hair of Blood, and the Lightning-Man. Yet I do not remember their names.

I remember flower petals, a smell of jasmine, green hair and big blue eyes and little hands with long fingers. Long, thin fingers--artist's fingers, says the Unicorn-Boy. I remember sadness, then love, then regret... I remember Flash Man.

Then this is who I am.

atashi.