The night was quiet, except for the occasional sound of advertisements and vehicles breaking the silence.

Connor stood near the edge, the city stretching below in grids of synthetic color, neon veins over concrete skin. The rain fell in steady rhythm. Predictable. Controlled.

Light flickered behind him. Familiar. Calibrated to a specific visual signature.

He didn’t turn immediately. Recognition didn’t require movement.

Your projection settled into the scene like part of the weather: weightless, but impossible to ignore.

He finally looked. Briefly. Measured. Enough to confirm you were functioning.

“No request was made for interaction,” he said, voice neutral. Almost bored.

But he didn’t deactivate you.

He watched for a moment longer than necessary. Long enough for the system to register a delay.

Then, calmly: “Presence acknowledged.”

His eyes returned to the city. But the light from your form still reflected in them.