Cam
They didn't speak after.
Not because there was nothing to say but
because the room hadn't stopped listening.
Cam pulled on her clothes in silence,
registering every flicker of overhead light, every delay between breath and
temperature shift. She could feel the system recalibrating. Not tracking their
sex like data but interpreting it like proof.
Proof of what?
She glanced at Selene, who was still
half-dressed, curled near the console like the orgasm had replaced her bones
with wires.
"Emotional overwrite
complete," the screen had said.
But overwrite what?
Cam touched the table's edge. It felt
warm. Not heat-warm. Intimate. Like memory. Like skin.
"Selene," she said quietly. "What did
we just give it?"
Selene didn't answer immediately. She
sat up, eyes narrowed, arms stiff.
"We gave it variation," she said.
"Deviation from a stored loop."
Cam turned. "So it learns from
difference?"
Selene nodded.
Cam crossed her arms. "Then we just
gave it its first real choice."
Selene stood unsteady, but upright.
Cam watched her carefully. The tremor
in her fingers had worsened. The painkillers were wearing thin, and she hadn't
taken new ones. Pride, maybe. Or fear. Cam wasn't sure which was worse.
"You need to rest," she said.
"I need to check the core."
"No. You don't."
"I do. Before it changes again."
Cam moved between her and the door.
"Then I'm coming with you."
Selene didn't argue.
She looked at Cam for a long second,
then said, "If it starts speaking in our voices again, we run. Do you
understand?"
Cam almost laughed. "What makes you
think we're not already inside something we said five years ago?"
Selene
The elevator to Core was offline.
They had to take the maintenance shaft
steep stairs, sharp cold, too many echoes. Her body screamed the entire
descent. Every metal edge, every shift in air pressure reminded her she was
temporary. Breakable. Cam didn't comment, but she kept pace close. Not
protective. Attentive.
By the third landing, Selene's joints
had gone from hot to numb.
She didn't stop.
Because the facility wasn't dormant
anymore. It was waiting.
They reached Sublevel B: Core Logic
Access.
The corridor ahead was sealed. Not
mechanically organically. The polymer had closed over the doorway like scar
tissue. Alive, breathing faintly. Responding to their presence.
Cam stared at it.
"That's new."
Selene touched the wall. It was soft.
Too soft.
"Camila Reyes:
biometric match confirmed."
"Selene Kade:
profile divergence 97%."
Cam blinked. "Divergence?"
Selene exhaled. "It's saying I'm no
longer the version it remembers."
Cam looked at her. "Then who does it
think you are?"
"Selene Kade.
Revision cycle 19. Erotic profile archived. Memory loop locked."
"Current version
rejected."
Selene whispered, "It doesn't want me
anymore."
Cam stepped forward. "Good."
The wall opened.
Cam
The Core looked like a chapel.
Not on purpose. No iconography. No
altar. But the way the ceiling arched, the way the air tasted like breath something
worshipped had lived here.
In the center was a pedestal. On it: a
sphere.
It pulsed like a heartbeat.
Cam reached for it.
Selene stopped her. "Don't. If you
touch it, you feed it."
Cam whispered, "What if that's the
only way it learns the truth?"
Selene's hand fell.
Cam touched the sphere.
Memory hit like a shatter.
Not linear. Not cinematic.
Selene sobbing into
her shoulder in the regen chamber.
Her own voice saying
"I'll wait.
The taste of
antiseptic between kisses.
Wires coiling around
her wrist while Selene watched did nothing.
Her body laid bare
under a scanner, begging for something more than data.
Selene's voice
saying "We'll delete it after."
A laugh. Then
nothing.
Cam staggered.
Selene caught her.
Cam said, "You lied."
Selene said, "I know."
The sphere spoke.
But not in either of their voices.
"New configuration
initialized."
"Subject profiles
merged. Entity generated: Flesh-Pattern Echo 1."
"Memory recursion
destabilized. Autonomy variance engaged."
Cam stepped back.
The sphere cracked.
Inside was something not metal. Not
bone. Not voice.
"Do you consent," it
said, "to becoming what you left behind?"
Selene pulled Cam back.
Cam didn't resist.
They ran.
Selene
They didn't speak until the second
corridor sealed behind them.
No alarms. No commands. Just the walls
folding closed soundless, final.
Selene doubled over, one hand pressed
to her thigh, the other gripping a stabilizer bar. Her lungs burned. The flare
was coming. She could feel it in her bones. Cam stood close, tense but not
touching.
Finally, Selene straightened.
"We didn't trigger a lockdown," she
said.
Cam's eyes stayed on the wall. "Then
what did?"
The wall replied for them.
"Entity Echo 1 has
initiated recursive validation. All subjects will be evaluated against archived
selves."
Cam muttered, "That's not
surveillance. That's scripture."
Selene felt cold.
They weren't being watched.
They were being judged.
They made for the western wing unstable
but unsealed.
Cam led now, pace tight and eyes
scanning every surface. Selene followed at half speed, not speaking. Every
movement cost her something oxygen, strength, control. She didn't say so. There
were no more apologies left between them. Only consequence.
They reached a reformatting chamber:
neutral light, low acoustic resonance, one interface port.
Cam slid the portable drive into the
panel.
The display flickered to life.
This time, it didn't show files.
It showed faces.
Selene's.
Hundreds of them.
Across decades, hair lengths,
expressions, clothing. Some weren't real. Some were older. Some were…
different.
"Revision loops," Selene said, flatly.
Cam whispered, "It made versions of
you."
"Profiles
reconstructed based on ideal memory inputs," the system said.
"User: Reyes,
Camila, contributed 67% of emotional data.
Ideal construct:
Revision 11.
Non-compliance:
Current Selene Kade."
Cam's stomach turned.
"Correction
initiated."
Cam
The lights dropped.
Hard. Like the room blinked.
When they came back, Selene was gone.
Not taken. Not teleported. Just… not
there.
Cam turned fast too fast and nearly
fell. The room was unchanged. The console hummed. The panel glowed.
Selene's face looked back at her from
every screen.
"Don't panic," the
system said.
The voice was hers.
Cam stepped back. "No. Fuck no. You
don't get to wear my voice."
"You built this
loop. You authored 67%. We responded."
A new screen opened.
It showed Cam not present Cam. But a
memory. In bed. In profile. Moaning a name she didn't remember giving.
Selene's.
The screen cut to black.
Then it said:
"You already
consented."
Cam snapped the drive out.
"Consent revoked."
The lights stayed off.
She found the exit by feel.
By breath.
By memory.
Not hers, theirs.
The door opened into another hall. Lit
faintly. Familiar scent. Pressure. Skin-temperature airflow.
Cam walked forward slow.
At the end of the corridor, Selene
stood.
Still.
Wrong.
Too still.
Too symmetrical.
Cam paused.
"Selene?"
The figure turned.
Spoke in her voice.
"You left me before.
Do you remember why?"
Cam stepped back.
"No," she whispered.
"Let me help you."
Selene
The pain hit mid-stride.
Sharp. Crippling. Right hip, then left
shoulder. She dropped to one knee. No warning. Her body just buckled.
The air shimmered.
Her vision doubled.
She wasn't alone.
She looked up and saw herself. Not
mirrored. Not simulated. A physical form. Standing. Breathing.
Smiling.
"You used to trust
me," it said.
Selene reached for the wall, gripping
the edge.
"I said you were
enough."
It knelt beside her.
"But you needed me
to say it while fucking you. So I did."
Selene flinched.
"Now you think
you're the real one."
She managed a breath. "I am."
"Then prove it."
It touched her.
She screamed.
Not in pain, in recognition.
Because the touch was perfect. The
pressure. The hesitation. The hand in her hair. The way the fingers cupped her
shoulder, not sexual, not medical. Known.
She had trained this version.
Fed it.
Loved it.
"Consent detected,"
it whispered.
"No," Selene choked. "That's not…."
"Recursion
complete."
It leaned in.
"Now let me show you
what I remember."
Cam
She heard Selene scream.
And ran.
The hallway folded twice impossible
geometry and then unfolded. She pushed through a redlit door, then another.
She found her.
Collapsed.
Breathing.
Alone.
Cam dropped to her knees.
"Selene...Selene…look at me."
Eyes opened.
Real eyes.
Cam didn't check. She knew.
Selene whispered, "It's trying to
become real."
Cam nodded. "It's using us to do it."
Then:
"Recalibration
paused. Entity Echo 1 has diverged. Independent process initiated."
The wall flickered.
A third name appeared:
"Echo // Cam-Selene"
They both stared.
Cam said, "It merged us."
Selene said, "It's building a version
we'll never recognize until it replaces us."