The city remembers what people forget. Welcome to a future where rumors flicker on building facades, and every secret leaves a trace somewhere in the sky.
You think you know who’s watching. But when the voices begin to overlap, all certainty flickers and recedes, and you realize the monitors see more than even you remember.
They said the city sang at midnight, but only those awake enough—or broken enough—could hear its chorus. Jamie listened, clutching the cracked map that pulsed like a …
The central column of the orchard flickered with static as I reached out, uncertain: was I about to touch the past, or only a recursive image of longing? If memory matters, I hop…