Kiki, Amstrad, Jabber, and Sam are playing cards. Catch is asleep in his hammock. It’s 11pm and Amstrad is tired after lots of exercise in the gym-cafeteria led by Kiki and Sam. They taught everyone how to disarm someone and which spots a knife can most easily pierce a cop's armor. Tomorrow is the start of Kiki and Amstrad’s personal psychic training.
   “If you want to know anything about how I think,” Sam says as everyone quietly considers their cards, “This is it.”
   “What is it? That- that means nothing. It’s cards?” Jabber asks.
   “In life, you could say we have a hand of cards. Objects we hold close to us that inform how we can interact with the game, with the world. Even if the rest of the game is identical, someone holding a King and someone holding a 2 see that reality very differently. They’re prone to act differently.”
   Jabber chuckles. “Ooooh uhh people in different situations are different. Wooah.”
   “What I mean is that when I carry my sword, I'm a different person than I am without it. Carrying it makes me more prone to violence. More prone to overconfidence. Even when I try not to, having that tool changes who I am in a subtle way.”
   “But you’re the same person, right?” Amstrad says.
   Sam shakes her head. “It doesn't matter. I think the concept of the self is a red herring in this context. I strive for a more useful way of categorization. Take my arm for example,”
   “The robot arm.” Jabber says.
   "Is an arm that can’t be moved at all an arm? Is it part of your body?”
   Jabber nods.
   “Why?” Sam asks.
   “It’s connected and shit.”
   “But is that a useful definition to us? Is it true of our experience having a body? There are things that we use every day that blend into the background of our perception because they become extensions of ourselves. As we type, we eventually become unaware of the keyboard. There is simply thought and execution. In that way, keyboard has become a part of us. One could say the same about a car, or a paint brush. At a certain level of mastery, anything could become an ‘arm’ more tangible and real as an extension of the body than anything connected by tissue.
   “Take the sword, for instance. While I hold it, where is the useful distinction between the sword and me? It feels to me like an arm which knows no pain, which enacts violence. That person with an arm only made to draw blood is a more violent person, but I know that. I know who I become when I draw the sword. It’s the same with my prosthetic arm. And it’s the same with the cards in my hand. I don’t think ‘the King in my hand will overcome that 10’, I think ‘I will overcome Kiki’. It’s the same with all the medicines I take, with all the hormones I take, I take them to help me become a more useful version of myself to me. We are the people we make ourselves to be.”
   Jabber laughs uncomfortably. “I dunno, it’s like, not a part of you though. It’s different.”
   Sam shrugs. “Just my two cents.”
   “Interesting, yeah.” Kiki thinks for a while, then turns to Amstrad. “Wearing sunglasses all the time, like, that must make Amstrad a different sort of guy.”
   The others murmur in bemused agreement.
   “I mean, how different would he be if he was just- like- some guy. No weirdo glasses.” Kiki muses.
   “Haha.” Amstrad scratches his chin. “I wonder sometimes.”