There's a part of Georgia that's jealous, though she doesn't let it show on her face. She'd spent a while holding on to the slim if not entirely realistic hope that her brain was still her own. She didn't know how it would be possible, since the virus would have been active there as much as anywhere else, but she felt like herself. She wanted to believe that the most important part of her was still intact somehow.

But it wasn't. It was just a copy of the contents.

"That's got to be something of a relief. That she didn't have your memories. She might have looked like you, but she wasn't you."