Is there anything more frightening than losing our being, our consciousness? The threat of having the structural memories that make us who we are yanked deliberately and with precision scares the bejeebers out of me, more viscerally than any brandished gun. If I die, I'm gone. But if parts of who I am are pulled out like Jenga pieces, is what's left really me or is it some sort of shaky abomination?
After all, what are we but a collection of experiences? To me, that's why Alzheimer's is so terrifying, and despite the light-hearted tone, is why the novel defense mechanism of the critter really connected with me.
Great story, well read too.