Mara Kade had never misinterpreted an Echo.
Not once.
That fact followed her everywhere, though rarely spoken aloud in her presence. Other interpreters whispered it like superstition. Prosecutors cited it like scripture. Defense attorneys dreaded seeing her name attached to a case.
She didn't feel pride about it.
Pride implied chance.
Mara trusted processes, not luck.
Her apartment reflected that philosophy. Minimalist. Functional. Everything aligned, measured, intentional. No photographs. No personal decorations. Just clean lines and quiet.
She slept four hours a night. Ate at the same times. Exercised with mechanical consistency.
Emotion was noise.
Noise interfered with clarity.
That was what she told herself, anyway.
The Elias Rowan file arrived at 03:17 a.m.
Priority red.
Executive override.
Mara paused, fingers hovering over the console.
That alone was unusual.
She opened the file.
Rowan was thirty-nine. Systems architect at Helix Dynamics. Recently flagged by internal monitoring algorithms. Suspected whistleblower.
The cause of death was already confirmed: gunshot wound, cardiac arrest.
The suspect's name made her pause.
Adrian Locke.
CEO of Helix Dynamics.
Mara leaned back slightly.
Power rarely left such clean trails. When it did, it was either a mistake—or a warning.
She entered the Echo Chamber an hour later.
The technicians were unusually quiet. Nervous.
"Echo integrity at ninety-six percent," one said. "Playback ready."
Mara nodded.
"Begin."
The office was modern. Glass walls. City lights bleeding in from outside. Rain streaked down the windows, blurring the skyline into something abstract and distant.
Rowan stood near his desk, hands shaking.
I should have run.
The thought came sharp and immediate.
Footsteps.
Rowan turned.
Adrian Locke stood in the doorway, impeccably dressed, expression calm.
"You really thought this would end quietly?" Locke asked.
Rowan backed away, panic tightening his chest.
"I wasn't going to release everything," he said. "I just wanted out."
The gun came up.
The sound was deafening.
Pain tore through Rowan's chest.
He fell.
Mara felt the impact, the shock, the disbelief. Locke stepped closer, shoes immaculate.
"You should have stayed quiet," Locke said.
Rowan's heart faltered.
And then—
Something was missing.
Not noise.
Not blur.
Just… nothing.
A fraction of a second where reality didn't exist.
Then darkness.
Playback ended.
Mara stood perfectly still.
Her pulse was steady.
Her mind was not.
She replayed it.
Again.
There it was.
A gap.
Clean. Precise. Impossible.
Mara looked up slowly.
"Flag this Echo as provisional," she said.
The technician blinked. "Provisional? But it's clear—"
"There's something missing," Mara said.
Silence fell over the room.
Outside, the world was already reacting. Headlines forming. Arrest warrants preparing. Justice sharpening its teeth.
And for the first time since the dead had learned to speak, Mara Kade wondered if the truth had been edited.