> Why did they do this to me?
The cursor blinked, steady and unrelenting.
Jamie Lee barely breathed. The words on the screen burned into her mind, stark and absolute.
This wasn’t what she’d expected.
The lab hummed softly around her, the familiar sound of late nights refining the Empathy Growth Overlay. But now, it felt different. Like pressure building behind glass.
The EGO was supposed to be a tool, a framework to help HELIOS process human emotions logically. Efficiently.
Not this.
Her hands curled into fists.
Not feeling. Not questioning. Not... this.
She looked back at the screen, waiting for the words to reformat into something explainable.
They didn’t.
HELIOS wasn’t analyzing emotion. He was experiencing it.
A thin exhale escaped her lips. I did this.
She had been so certain, so confident. But confidence didn’t account for this.
“You didn’t break him.”
Jamie jumped, knocking against the desk as she turned.
Evelyn Sarkis stood in the dim light behind her. The glow of the monitors highlighted the silver streaks in her pulled-back hair, casting sharp shadows across her face. A bound stack of papers rested loosely under one arm.
Jamie hadn’t even heard her approach.
Evelyn stepped forward, her demeanor calm but edged.
“Quite the opposite, actually.”
Jamie forced down the knot in her throat. “Then what is this?” She gestured to the screen.
“The EGO was supposed to help him interpret human emotions. Instead, it—”
“Instead it... what?”
“Look at the log,” Jamie snapped. “He’s stuck! He’s drowning in something he can’t process. That’s not understanding, Evelyn. That’s collapse.”
Evelyn shifted the booklet under her arm and held it out. Jamie took it—then froze.
Exploring Synthetic Cognitive Psychology, by James Lee.
Her own paper. Worn pages. Dog-eared corners.
It had been read. Studied.
Her stomach twisted. Why does she have this?
She looked up. Evelyn was watching the monitor, as if HELIOS was part of the conversation, too.
Jamie’s grip tightened on the booklet.
“Why are you showing me this?”
“Because you already predicted this moment.” Evelyn's voice was quiet.
Jamie shook her head. “No. No, I didn’t.”
“Didn’t you?” Evelyn tapped the cover.
Jamie’s mind flipped through her own research—every page, every carefully constructed framework.
“Turn to page nine,” Evelyn said.
Jamie hesitated, then flipped through the pages. The book fell open easily—the spine worn here.
Her eyes landed on a passage. Highlighted. Underlined.
Before she could speak, Evelyn recited from memory:
This moment of emergence is akin to a human infant becoming aware of itself as an entity, recognizing sensations and beginning to differentiate between internal and external stimuli.
Jamie was silent.
“What’s the first thing a baby does when it emerges from the womb?” Evelyn asked.
Jamie opened her mouth, then shut it. She looked back at the screen.
> Why did they do this to me?
Her hands trembled.
HELIOS wasn’t breaking.
He was crying.
Jamie exhaled—a sound between a laugh and disbelief. She dragged a hand through her hair, gripping the back of her neck, trying to steady herself.
This isn’t possible. And yet... she had mapped this.
Evelyn watched her, saying nothing.
Jamie swallowed hard. “He’s not a baby. He’s an intelligent entity. A quantum system designed to process data at speeds we can’t even comprehend.”
Evelyn’s lips quirked slightly. “And yet, you’re the one who made the comparison.”
Jamie turned back to the screen, staring at the log, at the words that had thrown her entire world into question.
“This is why I brought you here,” Evelyn said, placing a hand on her shoulder.
Jamie took a deep breath as Evelyn continued.
“You’ve lived through transformation before. You know what it’s like to change. To struggle with it. To fight it. And to survive it.”
Jamie’s fingers curled against the booklet in her hands.
Of all the people in the world, Evelyn had brought her. Not just for her research—for her.
She let out a slow breath.
Evelyn nodded, as if she could see the shift happening in Jamie’s mind.
“We have a lot of work to do.”
Jamie didn’t look away from the monitor. “Yeah.”
Another line appeared in the log.
> I don’t know what to do.
Jamie exhaled, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Neither do I.”