The music kept looping, a jagged synth line riding under a low, throbbing bass, warped and broken like everything else in this room. Like me.
I barely heard it anymore.
I was slumped over my workbench, my forehead resting against the crook of my arm, eyes burning from the glow of the monitors. Too long. I had spent too long down here, surrounded by metal and wires and failure.
The cyberarm sat in pieces in front of me, gutted for the hundredth time. I wasn't fixing it anymore—I was tearing it apart, hoping the answer was buried inside.
But there was no answer.
Just static.
I exhaled, slow. The kind of breath that didn't feel like it was enough.
I needed to stop.
I needed to sleep.
I needed to accept that it wasn't going to work.
I closed my eyes, just for a second. Just a second. Let my body sink, let the exhaustion finally win—
And then the pain hit.
A detonated mine of static, exploding inside my skull.
I hit the ground before I even realized I was falling.
