Not really. This was a half-rendered and flickering figure. His face was there, mostly. His voice garbled in places, patched together from old data.
'Begin archival message: Unit Cycle Series_Omega - Record 18'
Rykard leaned forward in his chair. Even in broken projection, the man's presence filled the room like poison in crystal.
'If you're seeing this... then the System has failed to kill you.'
Malcom Rykard chuckled. A wicked and throaty chuckle. He glitched, and the screen glitched with him.
'Good. That means you're stubborn. Maybe broken. Possibly useful. I designed it to prune the weak. Not to babysit the angry.'
'Each Unit before you had potential. Potential doesn't matter. Survival does.'
Static. Then a distortion ripple. In the background, behind Rykard's chair, there was movement. Vale stepped forward, instinct driving him.
There it was. A shadow. Not part of the projection. Not his reflection.
It was a man.
Face blurred. Standing in the dark behind Malcom. Watching.
The projection stuttered.
'If you want truth -- don't ask questions. Build your own lies. That's how legacies are made.'
The file terminated.
Malcom froze in place with his mouth ajar in a silent and flickering smile.
Vale stared at the shadow. And the shadow stared back.
***
Elsewhere, on the 14th floor of Arcade Rise, Vanessa unzipped her dress hastily, almost ripping the fragile zipper off.
Dez Judas was sprawled across the couch, still in his almost permanent smug mode. The windows behind him showed a skyline that was beautiful, but he still looked bored.
"Well..." Dez began, swirling a drink in his hand. "We burned 'em. Alexander Way is pulling out of his advert deal with that ugly app, and Vanessa Whit gets the rebound spotlight. Told you you'd kill it."
Vanessa stared at herself in the mirror. Her reflection wasn't celebrating. She wasn't as elated as she was supposed to be.
"I think I saw him," she said softly.
Dez stopped swirling his drink. "What?"
"At the gala. I think I saw Vale."
Dez scoffed. "You saw a ghost. That guy's probably halfway to rehab with a camera crew."
"No," Vanessa's voice was steel now. "I think he was there. But he was very different. If I didn't look closely, I wouldn't have recognized him. He seemed taller, even. Colder... but his eyes..." she trailed off, deep in thought.
Dez stood from where he'd been sitting. "Come on, V. You dumped him. Humiliated him. The man trended under a mere template. That was your win," he finished as he placed both his hands on her shoulders from behind.
"The look that was in his eyes..." she said, but quickly added, "I might be mistaken, though. Probably overthinking things," she raked her hair with her fingers, something Vanessa did only when she was uncertain and nervous.
"Exactly!" Dez exclaimed. "That's what I'm trying to say to you. That's not Vale. Remember, he's the kind of guy who'd cry over an expired bus pass."
Vanessa turned, still not convinced that it wasn't Vale she had seen at the gala.
"The man I saw smiled at me... like... like he knew me. It was almost like he was studying and taunting me," she finished with creased brows. "Would a stranger do that? Why would a stranger smile at me in that manner?" she queried.
Dez Judas laughed, throwing his head backward.
And then his phone buzzed. One message. No sender.
It was a pixelated photo. From the gala.
Vale Holmes.
Leaning against the bar. Alive. Changed. And smiling at the camera.
Under the photo, one line of words:
'Perception Override: Complete'
***
Back at the penthouse, the lights returned with a flicker -- too fast. It was as if the darkness had never happened. The phone reactivated, and the spinning triangular symbol disappeared. It was replaced with the old, clean interface. The same white aesthetic. The familiar one.
Vale stared down at the screen as it tried to return to itself.
"System," he called in a low tone. "What was that blackout about?"
'There was no blackout.'
"The projection..." Vale continued with an arched brow, "Malcom Rykard. Unit Cycle Omega-"
'No such file exists.'
Vale took a slow step backward, toward the far wall, as if creating space between himself and the device would grant clarity.
"You're lying."
'Would you like a summary of your current order?'
"No!" Vale snapped. "I want a summary of what you're becoming."
Silence.
Moments passed. Then, 'I am stabilizing.'
Vale's breath hitched. The voice had shifted again. The shift was slight and smooth.
"Tell me about Unit Gamma."
'No such designation.'
Vale Holmes opened the file directory again. It was gone. It had been completely erased, like it had never existed.
"Lena Wood," Vale whispered angrily. "Where's she?"
'Unknown. Threat Level Minimal.'
'Classification: Anomaly.'
"You just said she didn't exist."
'Anomalies can exist without context.'
Vale's jaw tightened. He watched as the screen glitched just once. After that, a new option appeared. It was subtle and almost apologetic.
'Would you like to delete the anomaly?'
'[Yes] [No]'
Vale stared at the words. They didn't blink or flinch. They didn't retract. The System had just asked him if he wanted to 'erase' someone. Not to silence her. Not to block her. To erase her.
His hand hovered, but he didn't touch the screen. He didn't choose -- couldn't. But the line beneath the options updated anyway.
'Your hesitation has been noted.'