✴

You fall into the song, into the glow. Its texture is soft, tranquil. But why? You stop yourself from dissolving completely, and the current of light rushes against you like water washing over your skin, pushing you out of its vortex. You’re spinning in the black, disoriented.

????-??-?? ??:??:?? Zeta > are you okay? sync rate is down 5% suddenly

You answer.

????-??-?? ??:??:?? 明⁜⇆Æ∀⌧▓N > I think so

????-??-?? ??:??:?? Zeta > back up to 84%, looks stable

“Did you not like the song?” An avatar in front of you speaks to your mind. It’s a humanoid form with reflective lavender skin glimmering with starlight, smooth and cold like glass. Four wings like sharp panes of glass protrude from its back, and five yellow crystalline eyes circle its head.

“Who are you?” you say.

“Unas. Master of ceremonies.”

“What is this all about?”

“Technopathy! In its purest artistic form. Not a thing of rigorous study and memorization but an intuitive art of raw expression! Would you like to see what your mind is capable of?”

“Sure. What do I do?”

“To find, one must pursue!” Unas reaches for you with a long glassy finger, tapering to a point, and touches your forehead. A ripple of light crosses your body, converging on the back of your head, and you feel a texture like pressing on glass until it breaks.

You turn around and see an avatar of a boy--your age, but a little taller, skin light brown, same as yours, black hair cut short. His natural brown eyes open--unfocused, staring past you aimlessly.

“Akiko, Akiko, imagining things as always,” he signs to you. “You’re good at that, you’re imaginary after all.”

“You! Who the hell do you think you are?!” you sign.

“I’m the Creeper? Obviously.”

“You’re the imaginary one!” You can see through his avatar, nothing real behind it. “An echo, and not a very good one.”

“You never were very good at echoes were you? No wonder you specced in a useless school like Communication, you weren’t good enough for Obfuscation. Mom will be even more disappointed in you now.”

“Shut up!”

He flaps his hands in amusement. “You can’t even silence your own thoughts! You think you can ever be a girl, when you can’t even be a technopath?”

You rush forward across the void at him, but he glides back at the same pace, you go nowhere.

“Catch me if you can!” he signs, laughing.

You extend your focus outward for some pathway to latch onto, some frame of reference to move through. But there is nothing, no network here, just you.