Morning came too soon.Nero hadn't slept; he had only changed chairs. The system logs he had checked through the night were clean—too clean, completely wiped. No proof, no trace, nothing to suggest the boy on the screen had ever existed.
He stared at the empty mug beside him. His coffee had gone cold hours ago.
You're losing it.
But the memory of that voice wouldn't fade.
I'm the one who should have been you.
The words looped through his mind as he walked the corridor leading back to the Archive. He hoped he could go back to his old routine —key in, verify identity, boot the system, diagnose and drown in work.
The security scanner hummed, bathing him in blue light. The gate unlocked with a mechanical click. Inside, the Archive looked unchanged: endless rows of terminals, each alive with quiet pulses of green. Ordinary and Harmless.
He could almost believe last night hadn't happened.
Almost.
Nero settled at his workstation, flexing stiff fingers over the keyboard. The moment his access key registered, an unfamiliar window blinked open.
System notice: Temporary Oversight
Assigned – Analyst H. Krusate
He frowned. Oversight wasn't routine for his level. Before he could check the assignment details, a soft voice spoke behind him.
"You shouldn't run diagnostics without clearance."
He turned.
A young woman leaned against the console behind him, arms folded loosely. Her uniform jacket hung half-open, and a single ID tag shined under the dim lights:
Helina Krusate – Analysis Wing, Level 4 Clearance.
She looked too calm for someone standing in a place that has never allowed any strange visits.
"You're… oversight?" Nero asked carefully.
She tilted her head. "That's what the system says, doesn't it?"
He blinked. "I didn't request any analyst."
"I noticed". A small, humorless smile crossed her face.
"I go where anomalies happen."
Nero hesitated. "Anomalies?"
Helia stepped closer, eyes watching over the screens behind him.
"Sector 09 spiked last night. Data storms don't appear out of nowhere."
Her tone was soft, but her gaze carried weight—like she already knew what had happened.
"I was here," Nero said. "Just routine checks."
"Mm." She tapped a finger against one of the displays.
"Your routine checks fried the third relays in the system. Congratulations."
He frowned. "That's not possible."
"Apparently it is." She crouched beside his console and inserted a thin device from her pocket. A holographic waveform projected above it, pulsing like a heartbeat.
"This is the spike pattern from your terminal at 02:47."
He leaned forward. "What does it mean?"
"That's what I came to find out." She straightened and met his eyes. "You triggered something the Archive doesn't have a name for."
Her calmness made him uneasy. "You talk like you've seen this before."
"Not this." She studied him a moment longer, then shut the hologram off. "But something close."
He tried to steady his voice. "And you're certain it came from my console?"
"Your ID signature was embedded in the waveform." She tucked the device away. "The system registered it as a living source."
Nero quickly turned. "A living—what, signal?"
"Don't act surprised," she said softly. "You felt it too."
His mouth opened, then closed again.He didn't ask how she knew.
Helia turned to leave, stopping just before the hall.
"I'll be in Analysis Room 2 for the next hour. If you plan to keep digging into last night, don't do it alone."
Her tone wasn't suggestion—it was somewhat warning. She walked away without waiting for his answer.
Nero sat frozen, watching her disappear between the rows. Something in her composure felt unusual, like she was hiding more than she said.
He worked in silence for the next two hours, pretending to be busy. His eyes kept drifting towards the corner system—the one that had glitched red last night. It now glowed a steady green, innocent and quiet.
You triggered something the Archive doesn't have a name for.
He couldn't leave it alone.
He typed a manual command to access the locked logs again. The screen flashed a warning—Authorization Denied—but before he could override it, another window flickered open by itself.
A single line of text appeared.
You brought it back.
Nero got stuned.
The words blinked, as though waiting for an answer.
He hesitated, and in low voice asked, "Who is this?"
The response came instantly.
Stop searching.
He leaned closer, heart racing."Are you… in the system?"
You're still asking the wrong question.
And then the console went black.
He stared at his reflection in the dead screen, pulse roaring in his ears. The surface of the monitor was smooth, but behind the faint reflection of his face, another shape flickered—too small, too quick to be sure.
A boy.Same pale eyes.Same ghost of a smile.
Nero stumbled to his feet. The air felt colder, heavier, as though the servers were breathing around him. A hiss of static rippled through the overhead speakers, faint but surely—like laughter buried in the noise.
"Nero?"
He spun. Helia stood at the entrance, holding a datapad. She took one look at his expression and frowned.
"You saw it again, didn't you?"
He didn't answer.
She walked closer, her movement was slow, careful.
"You didn't imagine it," she said quietly. "Sector 09 signal spiked again a few moments ago. Whatever's things happening here—it's following you."
He forced a shaky breath. "Then tell me what you think this is."
Helia's eyes met his.
"I think the Archive isn't just storing events and time."
She hesitated, voice dropping to a whisper.
"I think theres more secret to it. Its keeping something else also"
The lights flickered overhead. A vibration passed through the floor—subtle, but real. Every monitor in the row flashed once, showing a single red word before fading back to green.
UNLIVED.
Helia looked up sharply. "We need to leave now."
Nero turned towards her, but behind her reflected in the black glass of a dormant monitor—he saw a figure standing among the servers.
A boy not older than twelve.His own face Watching.
And then the reflection smiled....