Last of what? I didn’t know. But the floor was dusted with fine gray ash, and in that ash—footprints. Dozens of them, all leading out , none leading in .
Then I heard it. A whisper, but not in my ears—in my bones . zxdz 01
Inside, the air tasted of copper and old rain. ZXDZ-01—that was me, or at least what the stenciled label on my chest said—stood in the center of a circular room. No windows. One bare bulb swinging overhead, casting jittery shadows like frightened fish. Last of what
began to walk. Would you like the next log entry (ZXDZ-02)? Dozens of them, all leading out , none leading in
The floor crumbled behind me.
I lifted my hand. Five fingers. Human-like, but the joints were wrong—too smooth, too silent. A faint blue glow pulsed under my knuckles every time I moved.