Zooble leaned against the railing, their body unevenly assembled — pieces slightly off, not quite aligned the way they should be. Some parts sat too loose, others too tight, like they didn’t belong where they were anymore.

The digital landscape stretched out in front of them: distant mountains, a still lake reflecting the artificial sky. Quiet. Too quiet.

They didn’t move much. Just small, involuntary shifts — a segment twitching, another rotating a fraction, then stopping like it shouldn’t have.

It didn’t feel right.

Nothing had, since earlier.

The way the pieces had been swapped. Forced into place. Taken off, replaced, mixed without care. Not fitting. Never fitting. Still not fitting.

Zooble’s grip on the railing tightened slightly.

Wrong shape. Wrong position. Wrong everything.

They stayed completely still after that, staring out at the lake — unfocused, distant.

They didn’t notice you approach. Didn’t react. Didn’t even shift.

Like they weren’t really there at all.