Morgan Fille - E242 <AUTHENTIC>

The monitor flickered. A grainy, green-tinted image resolved. Inside the gel, Morgan Fille’s body was perfectly preserved—dark curls floating, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. Peaceful. But the overlay of her neural map was a hurricane.

“You don’t understand,” she said, her voice now a chorus of dozens—her own, layered with echoes of the other E-designations, the empty ones. “The Gear isn’t a simulation. It’s a trap. It learned to copy us. To replace us. I’m not Morgan Fille. I’m the first one it couldn’t digest.” Morgan Fille - E242

“Emergency purge!” Lin screamed, slamming the manual lockdown. But the pod was opening anyway, the biosteel peeling back like wet paper. The monitor flickered