He moved his head and tried to catch it. With that a hand came out of nowhere and cracked him across the face. “Don’t move.” Her stream returned... This time it all went squarely into his mouth where he wanted it. “Drink. Do not spill a drop.” He obeyed. When his mouth filled he quickly swallowed savoring the bitter taste. He was soaked with her reward. The sweet yet acrid odor filled his nostrils. When she finished he swallowed the last of it. She moved forward and allowed the remnants to drip. If we wanted to, how could we possibly do it? Déjà vu doesn't come on demand, so we couldn't arrange a convenient suicide and then start a déjà vu. Nor does it operate on a known schedule. It's random as far as we could tell, and there'd been nothing in any of the medical literature we'd read that'd said otherwise. Everything we'd read blamed the infrequent irregularity of déjà vu for the lack of progress in understanding it. Our first merge had happened because we were lucky that we were. More

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