Kenji tried to take off the headset. His hands wouldn’t move.
And she was there.
He slid on his headset. The lens fogged for a second, then cleared to a loading screen of pure static. SIVR-146--------
He turned. The room was empty.
He stepped forward in the virtual space. His virtual feet made no sound on the shag carpet. Kenji tried to take off the headset
The scene changed. The room flickered, and suddenly they were in a rain-slicked alley. The woman was wearing a red coat now. She was crying, but she was also smiling. She held out her hand.
His vision blurred. The rain in the alley turned to streaks of light. He felt a phantom touch on his real cheek—cold fingers, dry as paper. He slid on his headset
“Stay a while. You’re in the collection now.”
Kenji tore the headset off his face. He was in his apartment. The clock read 11:48 PM. Only one minute had passed.
“I’m the one who was deleted,” she replied. “I’m the scene that was cut. The frame that was lost. Every single person who watched this disc before you—they’re still here. Inside me. You can hear them if you listen.”
The headset’s battery was at 100%. It should have been dying. Instead, it grew warm against his face. Then hot.