She could hear the hum of the oxygen recyclers. The faint drip of water from a leak she’d never fixed. And somewhere beneath it, the ghost of Dev’s voice: “Don’t let the machine make you forget who you are.”

Her face.

This time, the license screen wasn't a corporate pop-up asking for subscription renewal. It was a face.

For a moment, the terminal went black. The station held its breath. Then the license screen faded, replaced by a single line:

Lena pulled her hand back.