The Echo Deepens

Al barely made it back to his apartment before his knees gave out. 

He braced himself against the wall, his mind spiraling. 

The ID wasn't his. 

The stranger called him Ethan. 

They remember you better than you do. 

His own voice—the Shadow's voice—was making too much sense. 

Al forced himself to breathe. Focus. He had to find something, anything to prove he was still real. 

His phone buzzed. 

He pulled it out—another video file. 

Untitled. New. 

Al's fingers trembled. He hesitated—then hit play. 

The screen flickered. 

Surveillance footage. A street corner. Nighttime. 

A man stood under the streetlight, head down. 

Al's breath caught. 

It was him. 

Standing perfectly still. 

But the moment the camera glitched— 

His head snapped up. 

Right at the camera. 

Right at him. 

Al's stomach twisted. The smile on the screen was too wide. Too knowing. 

And then— 

The footage cut to black. 

A whisper in his ear, soft. 

"You don't remember what you've done." 

Al dropped the phone. 

What was happening to him?