Journal of DCX9000 [Entry 03]

Data Center Xero: Journal of DCX9000

[Entry 03 | January 18, 2197 | San Frandisco, Neo California]

//Begin Entry

At work I dropped a micro-welder today, nearly cooked the circuit board I was patching. Marrow gave me hell, said I should get my “shitty ports” checked before I fry myself. He laughs, but I saw the edge in his eyes. Even he’s starting to how much I’m slipping.

I tell myself to hold it together. To focus on the rhythm of the machines, the clatter of tools, the numb repetition of pulling apart one broken bot after another. That rhythm is the only anchor I have. But it keeps breaking. My vision fractures like static, overlaying her life over mine.

Yesterday I saw her running barefoot across glass. Today I felt the sting in my own feet when I woke. No cuts, no blood, just the phantom ache that refused to fade.

The more it happens, the less I feel like me. Sometimes I wake up and the thought slips through my head: maybe I’m just her reflection on the other side of the glass. Maybe she’s the real one, and I’m the leak.

It’s been four days and the secured channel hasn’t opened again. No voice, no warning. Just silence. Which makes it worse. If someone’s watching, then they’re waiting for me to crack.

And if they’re waiting… maybe I already have.

//End Entry