## The Echo Bloom **Part 1: Algorithm’s Pulse – Brooklyn, 2047** Rain slicked the pavement of Red Hook, reflecting neon signs like scattered jewels. Kai wiped condensation from her augmented glasses, the city blurring into a kaleidoscope of data streams…
## Echo Bloom The rain tasted like static on my tongue. Not the sharp bite of ozone, but a dull hum, layered under the city’s grit. January in Detroit always felt like a slow unraveling. I pulled my collar higher,…
## The Echo Architect The rain tasted like iron. Not a pleasant metallic tang, but the raw, insistent flavor of blood on concrete. Elias traced a finger across the damp brick wall, the chill seeping into his bone. He’s stood…
## The Static Bloom The chipped Formica of the diner booth felt cold under Leo Maxwell’s elbows. Rain lashed against the window, blurring the neon glow of “Rosie’s” into smeared streaks. He hadn’t touched his coffee, the steam long dissipated.…