Aftershock
Voices reached her first. Muted. Distorted. Like sound pushing through heavy water. “…a week, Mara.” Elias. Rough. Frayed. “I told you there were risks,” Mara replied, controlled but tired. “She should’ve woken up by now.” “She will.” “You don’t know that.” The words echoed in the white. Iris tried to move. Nothing responded. Not her fingers. Not her lungs. Not the steady hum beneath her synthetic skin. “She was stable,” Sadie said. “You said the surge stayed within tolerance.” “It did,” Mara insisted. “Her neural lattice is intact.” “Then why hasn’t she come back?” Elias demanded. Back. The word struck something deep. Iris reached for it. Static. “She’s processing,” Mara continued. “A century of partitioned data doesn’t reintegrate cleanly.” “You broke her,” Elias said. And the white crac
- Writer
