"The reading is irrelevant, Anya," Fajar said, his voice flat, devoid of the panic that usually governed his actions. He stood perfectly still, his eyes locked on the space where the Doppelgänger’s heart should be."Fajar, listen to me," Anya whispered, her hand hovering inches from his shoulder, afraid to touch him. "The radiation isn't environmental. It’s an extraction pulse. If we don’t move now, it’s going to pull your consciousness into the grid."The Doppelgänger smiled—a slow, uncanny movement that didn't reach its eyes. "She’s right about the pulse, Fajar. But she’s wrong about the destination. It’s not an extraction. It’s a return to factory settings."Fajar turned to the Doppelgänger. "Why are you still standing there? If you’re a projection, why haven’t you dissipated?""I’m not a projection," the copy replied. "I’m the version of you that accepted the update.""He’s a mirror, Fajar! A logic trap!" Anya shouted, her thumb hovering over the red kill-switch on her scanner. "I

"Answer the question, Anya," Fajar said, his voice quiet, stripped of the frantic energy that usually defined him. "Is this affection, or is it just the most efficient way to keep me from rebooting?"Anya’s hands fell to her sides, the scanner’s screen reflecting a dying blue light. "You think I’m holding you here for optimization? Look at my fingers, Fajar. Look at how they’re shaking.""Tremors can be simulated to increase emotional resonance," the Doppelgänger interjected, leaning against the flickering wall. It crossed its arms, its posture identical to Fajar’s. "She’s a master of the craft. Don’t you remember the simulation in the Sector 4 hub? She programmed the grief response herself."Anya lunged, her boot catching the copy’s chest. The impact didn't make a sound. The Doppelgänger simply bent at a ninety-degree angle, defying physics, and bounced back into a standing position."Stop listening to it!" Anya’s voice cracked—a rare lapse in her composure. "If I were a System Asset

Fajar caught Anya’s wrist before she could swing the pipe. His grip was cold, clinical, and precise."Don't," he said, staring at the empty space where the Doppelgänger stood. "You’re hitting air, Anya. You’re hitting the room’s memory of what I used to be."Anya gasped, her breath hitching as the pipe clattered to the floor. "Fajar, your eyes. They’re... they’re cycling."The Doppelgänger laughed, a sound that mirrored Fajar’s own cadence with nauseating accuracy. "He’s seeing the server architecture beneath the drywall, Anya. The ‘Glitch-Walker’ upgrade finally took hold. He’s looking past the skin of the world.""Shut up," Fajar snapped, turning his head sharply toward the copy. "I am not looking at you. I’m looking at the anchor point. You’re tethered to the power grid, aren’t you? You’re not a simulation. You’re a remote partition.""Does it matter?" the copy asked, tilting its head with a mock-pitying expression. "Fajar, ask her about the reset. Ask her how many times we’ve stoo

Fajar pulled away, his hands trembling as he stared at his own fingertips. They looked real enough, but they lacked the jagged, flickering edge of the room’s architecture."You’re connected to the grid," Fajar whispered, his voice cracking. "The whole time I was trying to save you, I was just verifying the connection."Anya let out a hollow laugh, pacing the length of the flickering room. "Do you think I chose this? Do you think I want to be the reason this city stays powered on by your misery?""I want a number, Anya," Fajar said, stepping into her path. "Stop dancing around the architecture. How many times have we lived this night?"The Doppelgänger, still mimicking Fajar’s posture, leaned back against the wall. "He’s at a breaking point, Anya. If you don't answer, he’ll try to hard-reboot his own consciousness. We both know how that ends. A permanent blank slate."Anya ignored the copy, her eyes pleading with Fajar. "It’s not a count, Fajar. It’s a gradient. Every time you ‘die’ or

"You can't kill a render," the Doppelgänger replied, flashing a smile that was a perfect, sickening replica of Fajar’s own. "I’m just the System’s way of saying I love you, Fajar. Or at least, it’s the System’s best guess at what that looks like."Fajar didn't blink. He reached out, his hand passing through the copy’s shoulder as if it were nothing more than agitated air. "Then let’s see how much memory this iteration can handle."Anya grabbed his arm, pulling him back. "Stop! Fajar, look at the floor. The textures are tearing. If you keep pushing, the sector will collapse. Do you want to save the city, or do you want to bury us under a mountain of digital debris?""I want to know if I'm even human," Fajar snapped, his voice vibrating with a metallic hum that echoed off the walls. "Is this flesh, or is this just a skin-deep render of the last guy who failed?"The Doppelgänger laughed, a dry, static sound. "That’s the beauty of it. You’ll never know. Even if you cut yourself open, you’