Eight gave a nervous laugh, thinking the question carried a bit of accusation. "Yeah." She nodded. "It may not sound like much, and it may sound like I'm wasting my time." Her voice drifts. "But I'm choosing to do it. It is my choice. To go to the beach when I want. To follow a work schedule. To hang out with my friends. To play turf war. To go home to my roommate. To fight with her when she leaves her clothes lying around. To go to sleep knowing that everything I do is my choice. It is the life that I want."

"And no one else will choose it for me."