Biology Book: Bornface

“Yes.” Lena closed the book. “Which means Bornface isn’t my son. He’s someone else’s. Someone who named his daughter Lena.”

This book is your future. It’s also your past. I wrote it when I was fifty-two, after mapping the entire circuit. I dedicated it to my mother, who had the same mutation and never knew.

The last entry: Omondi, B., as author, as subject, as witness.

You’re reading this because you found it. You found it because you were looking. You were looking because you already know something is wrong with your neurons, and you’re smart enough to want the truth. bornface biology book

“That’s impossible.”

Lena clutched the book to her chest. Outside the library window, a man with close-cropped gray hair crossed the street. He wasn’t there a second ago. He didn’t look back.

“Who?”

Subject L.K. Lena Kipkorir. Herself.

“I don’t have epilepsy,” Lena said. But her hand shook.

She flipped it open to the copyright page. No date. No publisher. Just a single line: By Bornface O. Omondi, Ph.D. and below that, in smaller type: This is a true record. “Yes

“How did this book get here?” Lena asked.

Possibility.