In a sprawling metropolis where memories are currency—traded and sold, guarded or stolen—Mira works as a memory architect, helping others reshape their pasts. Haunted by her own blurred recollections and the aching absence of certainty, Mira clings to the familiar presence of her creative and enigmatic girlfriend, whose love is both an anchor and a mystery.

When Mira stumbles upon a viral memory fragment infecting the city’s neural networks, she is drawn into a dangerous anomaly: vivid visions of alternate timelines and forgotten promises. As rumors swirl and society reels from inexplicable glitches in personal histories, Mira realizes the viral fragment may point to an entire version of reality that was skillfully erased—and that she, unknowingly, played a part in its disappearance.

With identity, love, and the fabric of her world at stake, Mira embarks on a journey through hidden memory markets, underground resistance movements, and the haunted corners of her own mind. Every discovery brings her closer to the truth about the city’s lost timeline, and to a crossroads: should she restore what was lost, risking further chaos, or preserve the curated illusion upon which everyone’s lives now depend?

As blurred realities converge, Mira must confront the cost of remembering—and the even greater cost of forgetting. In the end, she must decide not just who she was, but who she dares to become.

Mira couldn't sleep. Even after the footage. Especially after the footage.


She played the clip over and over. Eliah—or Ava—depositing the coin into her mailbox at 3:12 a.m., face half-glimpsed beneath the hood. No hesitation. No second thoughts. As if she knew exactly what she was doing. As if she'd done it before.


Mira stared at the grainy image until her eyes burned. Then she did what she hadn't dared until now.


She activated her personal neural sync module—the backup she kept offline for safety—and accessed her archived memory threads. Years of visual logs, emotion echoes, and synced dream snapshots spilled into her interface. Thousands of fragments. Most were locked under standard encryption tags.


Several of them—a whole cluster—were mislabeled, identified by gibberish strings instead of memory summary lines. Most were unreadable. Corrupted, according to the system.


Its timestamp dated back to three years prior—pre-dating her relationship with Eliah by nearly six months. Mira couldn't recall anything meaningful from that time. And yet the fragment pinged as user-generated, firsthand experience. Not spliced. Not external.


She hovered over the play command. Her pulse stuttered.


Rooftop. Cold wind. Midnight howling between spires. A heavy feeling in her chest.


She stood facing a glowing screen built into the side of the tower, typing in coordinates: long strings of access data and neural override codes she didn't recognize. Behind her, someone was screaming—a voice she knew too well.


"Mira, don't! Listen to me—RESETTING THE THREAD MEANS LOSING HER—"


The screen flashed red. Timelines collapsing. Thin strands of color unraveling like thread scraped from a loom.


Then silence. The memory cut out, incomplete.


Mira gasped, stumbling back from the syncjack, her temples throbbing. Blood trickled from her nose. The fragment had been locked away for a reason—and now it was trying to claw its way out.


"You weren't supposed to access that memory. That was the original fail-safe.


But now that you've remembered... they're coming."


Then the power cut out across the entire floor.


Chapter 5 - Fragment 721