Ryan slept hard after the simulation. The kind of sleep that is deep because the body is empty and the mind finally loosens its grip. When morning came he felt a slow, steady heat in his limbs, the kind that says the body has been used in the right way.
He sat up, swung his legs to the floor, and moved toward the small bathroom without rush. The apartment was quiet. The city noise had not yet risen. The early light through the window was thin and gray, not bright, and it made the mirror look softer than it really was.
He looked into the mirror at his own face. He saw the same lines that had been there yesterday. He saw the same hair that refused to lie down.
He saw the same eyes that sometimes went quiet when he thought too much. This time, as he stared, he did not let the thoughts drift. He spoke aloud, the words simple and firm.
