But that would just be the meat, his soul was tired. Did he even have a soul anymore? He had taken so many parts from others, their organs beating and living inside his chest. They’d taken him apart and put him together with the lifestuff of other people. Was he still Jim Harvin anymore? The face resembled him, but that too could change in less than a day. His illness was in recession. He’d fought the mutagenic cancer and won. Or so they said. So why did he feel as if he was still dying?