Get out of my nervous system, Yskandr, she thought at him, gently chiding. An imago—the implanted, integrated memory of one's predecessor, housed half in her neurology and half in a small ceremic-and-metal machine clasped to her brainstem—wasn't supposed to take over the host's nervous system unless the host consented. At the beginning of the partnership, though, consent was complicated. The version of Yskandr inside her mind remembered having a body, and sometimes he used Mahit's as if it were his own. She worried about it. There was still so much space between them, when they were supposed to be becoming one person.

— A Memory Called Empire by Arkady Martine (Page 19)