You see an item nearby. Whatever this item is, you don't really recognize it. Still, you feel as though it's important. You pick it up, and memories flood into your mind.

But they aren't yours.

You know they hate you. Or whatever their concept of “you” is. They don’t want to be here, to be ripped from their timelines and put in a place like this. But you want to tell them that it’s for their own good, that it’ll help them later on. That it’s going to be worth it. You can help them! You are their protector, after all.

You don’t understand. You don’t understand why they don’t understand you and why they’re so resistant.

The memory comes to an abrupt end there.