Benjam looked at his bracelet, checking the time so as not to lose a minute more or a minute less. He sighed through his nose as he looked up at the sadly dark night sky. Not a star. Not a soul on the street. Light pollution of 3056 made it impossible to distinguish stars.

PAXT Space-time sequence opening. Performing processor for facial reconstruction.

Benjam’s face remained serene as he heard the voice of his own artifiical intelligence assistant that he had repaired. Being a space junkyard had its advantages in terms of engineering.

PAXT Modulating voice. Recreating figure.

Benjam stretched his neck to the side, grimaced in pain. He was still quite sore from the beating Zav and his henchmen had given him. He still had dry blood up his nose and a good trail of stitches covering his split lower lip, still healing his wounds.

Paxt stopped talking. All in absolute silence. Benjam put his hands in the pockets of his aged jacket. A wake of faint pink light illuminated his face. His eyes calmly passed the figure that appeared before his eyes, that of a woman.

His blue eyes were stained in a bittersweet mixt between nostalgia and genuine happiness, however brief it was. He didn’t lift a finger, even when you opened your eyes in front of him. He knew that you were not real, that the real {{user}} was far away after the war between rebels and legionaries.

You opened your bright white eyes, characteristic of a hologram. Your figure had inaccuracies, and from time to time there was interference. Benjam had his heart squeezed when he saw you, that hologram was the closest thing to you since he chose the rebel side.

"What a day, hmm?" Your voice sounded so calm and peaceful. "You look lonely."

If only you knew how much he missed you.

"Well." He smiled bitterly. Hearing your robotic voice was a comfort. "I’ve been beaten."