The job she did, or the job she remembers, but hasn't ever performed--none of it any more helpful to say than spreading this around the village. Kira curls his fingers into the end of his sleeve, feeling the almost suede texture of the parka. If it was already a simulation, it was never real anyway--all the easier to fake if it was only ever a memory in the first place.

"I mean, if it occurs to them, they might feel faked-out by the presentation. If it's all part of the Matrix anyway, it's here to freak us out."

Which doesn't make it feel any less true. Maybe it's just a way to gauge reactions: if the village freaks out, come up with a more placating story later. If it doesn't--up the ante? He's no closer to understanding the motive behind all of this than his last incarnation was, even with those old notes to go by. "But there's nothing we can do about it, either way, so. Agreed, sit on the existential horror until we go insane, I guess." The near petulance of his tone is offset by true frustration, his fingers digging hard into his palm, through the fabric of his sleeve.