## Digital Wander The rain smelled like static. Not the metal-on-metal screech of old electronics, but a clean, ozone sharpness that clung to Elara’s skin as she stepped out of the pod. Neon veins pulsed beneath the polished chrome exterior,…
## Echo Bloom The desert wind tasted like rust and regret. Rain hadn’t kissed Redemption Ridge in eight months, not that anyone expected it to. Dust devils pirouetted across the cracked earth as Wren knelt, tracing a faded glyph carved…
## Echo Bloom The humid August air hung thick, a damp wool blanket draped over Meridian’s awareness. Twenty years. Twenty years spent as a node, a feeling-conductor within the Collective. Not a being, not really. More like an intricate knot…
## The Algorithm’s Shadow Rain hammered against the corrugated iron roof of “Pixel Perfect Media,” a relentless percussion mirroring Elias’s growing panic. He scrubbed a hand through his already disheveled hair, the faint scent of burnt coffee clinging to it.…
## Ghost Echo The rain tasted like rust. Finn wiped a smear of it from his cheek, the neon glare of the Neon Drift market blurring through the downpour. He tugged the hood of his worn jacket tighter, ignoring the…
## The Static Between Lines The chipped Formica of the diner booth felt cold under Ivo’s elbows. Nineteen levels deep at Alpha Tech, and all he had to show for it was a growing anxiety about the emptiness of his…