He used to understand guilt the way a farmer understands crops. Now he has to use drugs to sleep and drugs to wake up and he only stays sober because there is an impossible restitution to dedicate himself to. He deserves many things. None of them resembles peace.
With the death-rooted profits he could afford to have his guilt extirpated from his mind like a skin blemish or a tiresome ex, but together with a conscience the kidnappers had forced into him a phobia against neuroengineering, therapy, and suicide even of the passive kind. Had he been any slower his former board would have had him killed; for their deaths he feels no guilt, and would be thankful to his kidnappers if he didn't think it another facet of retribution.