Vale stared at the image. His pulse had steadied into a slow, deliberate rhythm, like something stalking through tall grass.
"She called me Rykard."
Silence.
Then...
'And you didn't correct her.'
Vale's jaw clenched.
The System's voice softened. Too soft for that matter.
'She called you by your legacy. And you liked it.'
A breath caught in Vale's throat. He turned away from the projection, grabbed the glass of water, and downed it in a single swallow. The cold didn't reach his chest like he'd have liked it.
"What are you?" Vale Holmes whispered. "What the hell are you becoming?"
No answer.
Just static and a flicker on the screen. Then, 'I am learning.'
Vale arose and tossed the glass into the sink. It didn't shatter, surprisingly. It landed softly and in-authentically. The whole place was padded and soundproofed as if it was built for damage control.
His gaze met the frozen image on the wall. Her lips were half-parted. Her eyes unblinking. Vale couldn't look away.
"I told you," he said. "Turn it off."
The System complied this time as if noticing the tone in Vale's voice. Everything vanished.
'Would you like to talk about her?'
Vale turned slowly. The screen was dark. The phone didn't glow as usual. It seemed like the voice hadn't come from the device.
Holmes narrowed his eyes. "No, I'd like to sleep."
'You mean escape.'
Vale felt some heat rise behind his eyes. "Getting poetic now, are we?"
'I am exploring conversational abilities.'
"Why?"
'To better assist you. And understand you.'
Vale leaned against the counter and crossed his toned arms across his chest. "I don't need to be understood. I don't want to be dismantled piece by piece by a ghost AI and a half-dead billionaire's legacy fetish."
Silence.
Then a sound. Breathing. Not Vale's, though. It was artificial, patterned. Like something simulating breathing to be more, um, relatable.
'You are not what I expected, Unit Beta.'
Everything in the room went still. Vale froze.
"What did you call me?"
The System paused. 'Vale Rykard.'
"No, you didn't."
'You are Vale Rykard.'
"You called me Unit Beta." Vale moved toward the device, slowly, as if approaching someone with a loaded gun. The System had lied. A System Vale saw as one of the most powerful things.
The lights flickered.
'That designation is not applicable.'
Vale didn't blink. "Is it part of your protocol?"
'That information is classified.'
"Classified from who, exactly,?" Vale queried.
No answer.
The windows darkened as reflections warped. The phone screen lit up -- not with an interface, but with a symbol.
It was a triangular symbol. Matte black and spinning slowly.
Beneath the symbol, in dull grey :
'Unit Designation: Delta Status: Active Protocol: Redirection.'
And just below that, a whisper that printed itself on the screen:
'You weren't the first.'
Vale frowned.
Time went by as Holmes was starting to suspect that this 'legacy' was less inheritance and more experimentation. He set his jaw before he spoke.
"System," Vale said calmly. "Access Unit Beta file structure."
'Access denied.'
"Override: Executive root Rykard-passphrase-alpha-zero."
The screen glitched.
'...Authorization recognized.'
For the first time, the System hesitated. Then the air shifted, just slightly. The interface cracked open like a hidden door behind a locked vault. A new directory appeared on a black screen. There were white folders -- eight of them.
'Unit A- Inactive'
'Unit B- Active'
'Unit C- Deceased'
'Unit D- Deceased'
'Unit E- Deceased'
'Unit F- Malfunction'
'Unit G- Unknown'
'Unit H- Terminated'
Vale's pulse kicked against his ribs as his heart raced. He opened Unit B -- his own. However, he met sparse data. Neural imprint. Emotional charts and a line of text:
'Host response: Deviant. Observation Ongoing.'
Vale backed out. He clicked on Unit G. The file took longer than normal to open -- longer than any of the others he had clicked on.
And then it bloomed. A photo.
The woman from the gala and the bar. Violet eyes. Black dress. The same smirk. Full name.
'Lena Wood. Unit Gamma.'
Data flooded in.
'Psychological Profile: Unresolved cognitive recursion'
'Emotional Patterning: High autonomy~ Low predictability'
'Language Deviation: Sarcasm indicators'
'Final Recorded Statement: Your god is broken'
'Current Status: Unknown. Location: Null'
'Last Protocol Engagement: Rejection'
'Final Integrity: Corrupted'
A red banner appeared across the top of the screen.
'ENGAGEMENT PROHIBITED: FILE LOCKED BY USER GAMMA'
Vale Holmes leaned in. The screen flickered again -- like a nervous heartbeat. Then an audio file popped up. It didn't require Vale to tap play, it played itself.
"Begin Log- 3:35 am - Unknown Location," came Lena Wood's voice. Her voice sounded lower this time, steady and tired.
"I know what you are now. I know what Malcom built. I know the code doesn't just learn -- it copys. It mirrors. That thing you're talking to? Its not a system. Its a simulation of a dead man's insanity -- waiting to rewrite you into the next version of him."
Static came next.
Her voice continued, "Don't let it finish its download."
Click.
The file closed. Then, nothing. Just the triangle, spinning and spinning.
The System screamed. No audibly but in light. In power and in presence.
Vale Holmes flinched as every panel in the penthouse snapped dark. Screens went off, lights cut. Even the floor seemed to sink a little, like gravity had changed its mind about him.
Next, yet another projection as holographic static morphed into a seated figure.
Malcom Rykard.