EXT. FOREST – DAY
Wind stirs the canopy. Dappled sunlight dances across dust patterns on a stone.
C048 and X089 sit cross-legged on the earth. Between them, a smoothed wooden board—now covered in the symbols they've etched over the past few days. The shapes are growing. Repeating. Echoing each other.
X089 frowns, taps three sets of circular patterns.
He scratches his head. Gestures:
X089 I can't remember these.
C048 stays silent for a beat. Then draws a vertical line beside the shapes. Adds a small human figure pointing at them.
She touches the figure. Then touches her own chest. Her voice cuts softly through the air:
C048 Human.
She points to X089.
C048 You.
X089 blinks, then smiles.
He taps himself: Me?
She nods.
He pauses. Then points to a tiny creature darting in the underbrush:Him.
Their eyes meet—as if a door had opened to an entirely new world.
Wind lifts a streak of dust from the board.
C048 signs:
Now we can say something.
She points at a drawn fruit. Then herself:
C048 I eat it.
X089 jumps in:
You eat it.
They laugh. The first time they've ever... spoken. Truly spoken.
In the ruins of all that was, deep in a forest with no name,Two children reconnect language—through "I," "you," and "he."
EXT. FOREST HIDEOUT – NIGHT
Insects whisper through the dark. Starlight filters through the leaves, flickering across patchwork branches.
The girl lies on a bed of giant leaves, eyes open to the stars. Her gaze is clear. Still.
The boy sleeps beside her, breathing slow. Peaceful. Innocent.
C048's face remains calm—but her mind drifts back.
They walked by the river. Watched the water plants sway. Tiny fish flashed in and out of the light.
They were hungry. So they picked fruit and ate.
At dusk, the boy used an old lighter he'd found to spark a fire. He told her—
"Humans loved fire," he said. "It's dangerous. But warm."
The flames danced across his face. She couldn't help it—she wrapped her arms around his small frame.
Two small bodies, curled together. No longer afraid.
The fire warmed him into sleep.
She stayed awake, staring into the embers.
Then—A soft murmur from the boy snapped her from her thoughts.
X089 (murmuring) Na...mi...
C048 repeated it. Barely louder than the wind:
Na...mi.
A warmth surged in her throat.
She stared at the stars flickering through the trees. And then—A thought rose, slow and sure:
I am... Na-mi.
She wasn't surprised.
She simply tasted the word. Let it settle.
And she couldn't sleep after that.She said it again. And again.Inside her head:
I am Na-mi.
The first time—she gave herself a name.
She turned, softly whispered to the sleeping boy:
You are Yo-an.
From that moment on,They were no longer C048 and X089.
They were Na-mi and Yo-an.
EXT. RUINS OF THE OLD TOWER – AFTERNOON
After the mist lifts, sunlight streams into the depths of the forest.
Na-mi and Yo-an follow a narrow path laced with roots and broken stone.
The trees thin.
Half-hidden in foliage stands the remains of a tower—crumbling, vine-choked. One side is devoured by green. The other, bare metal, rusting.
They approach carefully.
Na-mi stops.
Ahead, a wall. Metallic. Shattered. But a fragment gleams in the sun—smooth, reflective, cold.
She steps closer.
For the first time—she sees herself.
Not the sterile images from a control panel. Not the uniform faces on the wall of screens.
But a girl.
Hair tangled. Mud on her cheek.Eyes alive with something wild.
She lifts a hand. Touches the surface.
Yo-an stands behind her.
YO-ANThat's not a mirror.
She turns.
YO-ANIt's a behavior playback wall. They used it... to watch us.
Na-mi turns back. Stares.
The reflection shimmers—barely. A faint pulse running through the surface.
NA-MIWe were being observed.
She waits. Then adds—
Not just watched.They wanted us to look the same.
Two children stand still before the fractured metal.
Their reflections overlap—imperfectly. Broken shards misaligning their faces.
Yo-an kneels. Picks up a stone. Draws a mark on the surface.
Two human figures, facing different ways. A curve connecting them.
NA-MI What is it?
YO-AN (soft smile) Us.
Light pours through the trees. Falls on the mirror.
Two names, freed from numbers.Standing in front of the system's remains—Seeing themselves. For the first time.