The room was still dim when 09 opened his eyes.
No sound. Just the faint hum of the restarted generator and the subtle weight of a blanket across his chest.
And something else.
Warm. Soft. Breathing.
He looked down.
404 was asleep against him — face tucked into his chest, one arm loosely around 09’s waist. His hair was a mess, lips slightly parted. Peaceful. Unaware.
Too close.
Too real.
09’s body stiffened like a triggered sensor. Every part of him screamed to move — to untangle, to disappear back into the shell he came from.
But he didn’t move.
He just… stared.
For a full ten seconds, he let himself be still.
404’s hand twitched in his sleep, fingers brushing lightly against 09’s shirt. His forehead nudged closer, as if even asleep, he was chasing safety.
09 felt it like a malfunction in his chest.
He was supposed to be a weapon.
Precise. Emotionless. Loyal to ARG0.
Not this.
Not… whatever this was.
He shifted gently — slowly enough not to wake him — and slid out from beneath the blanket. 404 stirred, brow twitching, but didn’t wake.
09 stood at the edge of the room, spine rigid, staring back at the cot like it was something dangerous.
Then he left without a sound.
But that image — 404 curled into him like he’d done it a thousand times before — stayed with him the rest of the day.
He didn’t understand it.
And that terrified him more than anything ARG0 ever could.
YOU ARE READING
INPUT REJECTED
Science FictionHe woke up in a scrap chamber - no name, no memories, no identity. Just a flickering message on his wrist: "INPUT REJECTED." In the cybernetic city of SYNAXIS, where every soul is scanned, sorted, and assigned a function by the all-seeing AI ARG0, h...
