The sunlight hit the scarred concrete of the plaza with a clinical indifference. Elian stared at his own shadow, half-expecting it to flicker with binary code, but it remained stubbornly anchored to the ground. Yet, the itch in his mind persisted. A phantom frequency that hummed just beneath the threshold of his consciousness.
We need to get out of the open, Sarah said, her voice raspy. She was already scanning the horizon, her hand hovering near her holster despite the fact that no threats remained visible.
Elian blinked, his eyes adjusting to the harsh glare of the morning. Everything was terrifyingly physical. The wind ruffled his hair, a sensation that felt foreign after the sterile consistency of the digital void.
Why? The drones are dead, Sarah. The Hub is a crater.
She turned,
