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/021_Axiom


I’ve been through a lot in the past few days—fragments of a life I can’t piece together, questions that lead to more questions, and a boy who looks at me like I’m the ghost of someone he once loved. But nothing—nothing—could’ve prepared me for this.


We’re in the Shadowtask HQ, the usual hum of monitors and the faint buzz of the VIVID network filling the air. The team is gathered around, their faces uneasy as I lay everything out for them: Alice's boy’s words, Leon Clarke, the memories I can’t explain, the tech that feels like it was made for me but doesn’t belong.


Data’s running searches, his fingers flying over the console. The holographic display glows faintly, streams of information pouring across it. “Nothing,” he mutters, frowning.


“There’s no record of Leon Clarke on the VIVID network. It’s like he doesn’t exist.”


I grip the edge of the table, the frustration clawing at me. “That doesn’t make any fucking sense,” I snap. “He’s real. I’ve met his son. The bike. The jacket. He was real!”


Data glances at me but doesn’t respond. His silence feels like a dismissal, and it twists the frustration into something hotter, sharper. I grab my helmet from the table, its smooth surface cool against my trembling fingers. The visor flickers to life, the interface booting up.


“Who am I?” I ask, my voice low and unsteady.


The helmet remains silent, indifferent to the storm ripping through me. "Identify primary user


“Leon Clarke” it replies.


The room feels like it’s closing in, the walls pressing against me. My breathing quickens, panic clawing its way into my chest. I slam the helmet onto the table, the sharp clang cutting through the tension. “What the fuck is going on?!”


“PYLOT…” Data’s voice is soft, hesitant. I look up at him, and the expression on his face makes the ground beneath me feel even shakier. He knows something. Something he doesn’t want to say.


“What?” I snap, my voice rough. “What aren’t you telling me? Data remains silent, his expression looks empathetic. I continue, "How can I be both? Leon, yet not Leon? It's his bike, right? It only responds to a specific user, right?"


Data exchanges a glance with Clova, and she nods almost imperceptibly. He breathes deep before exhaling, his tone steady but heavy. “We need to tell you something," I pause for a brief moment, expecting perhaps some good news. "You’re not what you think you are.”


The room goes silent.


“What... do you mean?” I ask, my voice tight.


Clova steps forward, her gaze level but cautious. “Your body,” she says, as she flicks through various documents on the tablet in her hands, “It’s not entirely human. It’s a hybrid—a mix of human and machine.”


Her words took longer to register than they should, with each passing second chiselling more doubt and fear into my mind. “What the fuck are you talking about?”


“You’re made of a compound similar to Caine’s,” she continues. “But stronger. Your body, underneath your flesh—it’s smooth, fluid, but it’s... not natural.


Her words hit like a sledgehammer to the chest. I scan the room, hoping to see a smile from Data, indicating that this is some kind of sick joke. His expression remained the same, she's being serious. “What the fuck are you saying?” I manage to choke out. My hands grip the table so tightly my knuckles turn white.


She hesitates before continuing, her voice softening. “I'm so sorry, I know this must be tough for you. We ran tests, limited, but the data is very compelling.”

My mind goes blank. Then, all at once, the panic surges back. “No,” I say, my voice rising. “That’s bullshit. That’s insane! I’m not some… some fucking machine!”


“There is no brain,” Data repeats quietly, his tone almost apologetic. “Your head—it’s... There’s no organic tissue. No neurons firing. Nothing.”


“You’re not just a machine,” Clova says, trying to soothe me. “You’re—”


“Don’t you dare say it!” I yell, slamming my fist on the steel table, leaving an imprint of my hand. “Don’t! I’m not a robot. I’m not.” I glanced down at the impression I'd just left on the table, I felt sick to my stomach.


Caine, chooses this moment to chime in. “Holy shit, an android?"


“Caine!” Clova snaps, her glare enough to silence him.


It’s too late. His word lingers in my mind, tearing through me. Android. It echoes, ricocheting off every memory, every feeling, every piece of my identity I thought I had.


“But, I feel things,” I say, my voice cracking as a lump forms in my throat. “Grief. Love. Anger. Loneliness. Hunger. Exhaustion. I feel everything! How does that make any sense if I’m just a… a machine?”


Data looks at me, his expression heavy with something I can’t stand to see. Pity. “It’s hard to hear, I know,” he says. “But look at the scans. Your body is not natural. From what the evidence suggests, the memories you're having, they may not be yours. They could very well be someone else’s.”


“Leon’s…” I whisper, the name tasting foreign and bitter on my tongue.


Clova steps closer. “Your body is wrapped in synthetic flesh. Artificial veins carry blood you don’t even need. Whoever made you designed you to be this way—a hybrid. The physical traits of an android, but the emotional traits of a human.”


I shake my head, backing away from them. “No,” I say again. “No, no, no. This is insane. I’m not… I’m not some freak experiment.” The room began closing in, voices became muffled, and that sickly feeling turned into excruciating pain as my new reality forced its way into my mind.


“Why?” Caine asks, breaking the silence. “Why would someone make something like this? What’s the point?”


Data shrugs. “We don’t know. But the technology is incredible, everything about you is fascinating Pylot.”


The room feels like it’s suffocating me. I can’t breathe, I can't take it anymore. I turn and stumble out, my feet heavy but my mind even heavier. Every thought feels like it’s tearing me apart. An android? What the fuck is going on.


No brain? No soul? Just code. Just memories that aren’t mine. Just... Leon.


My vision remained blurred, and I don’t know if it’s from the tears or the panic. I stumbled into my quarters and collapsed onto the bed, burying my face in my hands.


I scream. A raw, guttural sound that rips from my throat and leaves me gasping. And then, I break. The tears come hard and fast, each one carrying the weight of a life I might never have lived.


I weep for everything I’ve lost. For everything I thought I was.




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