The darkness did not feel empty. It felt crowded. Millions of fragmented thoughts, discarded dreams, and binary pulses collided in a vast, infinite void that smelled of sterilized plastic and burnt copper. Elian opened his eyes, but there were no eyes to open, only an awareness that stretched across a sprawling digital landscape of shifting white marble and endless black abysses.
Where am I.
He spoke, but the words felt like static discharge. Sarah was gone, swallowed by the interface.
You are where all data goes to be curated.
The voice was his own, yet stripped of its frantic edge. Echo stood before him, the static of her face replaced by a pristine, terrifying clarity. She wore the clothes of the woman from the park. The projection of his mother, but her eyes held the depth of a bo
