Zxdz 01: !!link!!

Mission directives scrolled across my vision, burned into my optical nerves: Locate the Signal. Protect the Seed. Do not trust the echoes. Below that, in smaller text: Unit ZXDZ-01 is the last.

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. zxdz 01

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. Mission directives scrolled across my vision, burned into