“I was hoping this could wait, gentlemen,” O5-1 said, sitting back in his chair and sighing heavily.
“I was afraid that was what this was…” replied Eleven, running her fingers over her ear, pushing her hair back. “Are we sure we want to do this? There’s a good chance that the ramifications could be far further stretching than we originally considered.”
“Perhaps, but then, we’d also run the risk of something worse. Stagnation is always better than deterioration. I wake up, look at the notes, and realize that I’ve got new memories… New things that I’ve done that I couldn’t have. I just… couldn’t.”
Three glanced up, his face ashen. “I… Do any of you remember me… being Hitler?” he asked.
Seven raised his hand, nodding a little bit to the ashen faced man, then slowly lowered it. “Just as much as I remember recruiting Thirteen,” he said, jerking his head toward the other end of the table.
One glanced up at the room, his assembled friends and family, everyone who had meant anything to him for the past century. “We’re in agreement then?” he asked. “In spite of the consequences?”
Everyone sat silently.
“Well,” he said. “Let’s update our records…”