The morning light in the safehouse was thin and gray, filtering through the copper mesh Riley had tacked over the windows. It gave the room a muted, underwater quality, as if the outside world were something distant and unreachable. The hum of the generator filled the silence, steady and low, a sound Jace had learned to measure time by.
He sat at the workbench, elbows resting on the scarred surface, eyes fixed on the containment rig. The third glyph was pulsing again — slow, steady, like it had found a rhythm it liked. It wasn't the erratic flicker of a system glitch or the sharp strobe of an alert. It was… measured. Intentional.
Patchwork's voice slid into his thoughts, low and even.
It's syncing with you. Not your heartbeat — your attention.
Jace rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Feels like it's in the room."
It is, Patchwork replied. Just not in the way you think.
The words carried a weight Jace couldn't quite name. He'd grown used to Patchwork's presence in his head — the constant commentary, the sarcasm, the occasional flashes of insight that felt like they came from somewhere deeper than code. But this was different. This was something else sharing the space, something that didn't belong to him or to Patchwork.
Riley came in from the back room, two mismatched mugs of coffee in hand. She set one down beside him. "You were talking to yourself again."
Jace took the mug, the warmth seeping into his fingers. "Not to myself."
She didn't ask. She never did. That was part of why he trusted her — she knew when to leave a question unasked.
---
The First Slip
By mid‑morning, Jace had pulled the small comms relay they'd salvaged from a warehouse job weeks ago onto the bench. It was a mess of frayed wiring and scorched contacts, the kind of thing most people would toss in the scrap bin. But Jace liked puzzles, and this one had been nagging at him.
He was halfway through soldering a new contact when it happened — a flicker of thought that wasn't his own brushed the edge of his mind. Not words, not even an image. Just a question, curious and patient, like a hand resting lightly on his shoulder.
Patchwork's tone sharpened. That wasn't me.
Jace set the iron down, the tip still glowing orange. "It's awake while I'm awake."
It's testing boundaries, Patchwork said. Seeing what it can touch.
The idea made Jace's skin prickle. Dreams were one thing — dreams were safe, in their way. But this was different. This was the echo stepping into daylight.
---
Side Job: The Upgrade in Disguise
The call came just after noon. A neighborhood grocer, voice tight with worry, said their walk‑in cooler was cycling erratically. If it failed, they'd lose a week's worth of produce. Riley glanced at Jace over the rim of her coffee mug. "We could use the cash. And it's close."
Jace nodded. "Let's go."
The grocer's shop was small, the kind of place where the owner knew every customer by name. The cooler was in the back, its door propped open, the air inside damp and unevenly chilled. Jace crouched beside the control panel, the smell of cold metal and wilted lettuce filling his nose.
The culprit was obvious — a failing control board, its casing warped from years of heat cycles. Jace pulled it free, the screws squealing in protest, and slotted in a replacement from his kit. But before sealing the panel, he hesitated.
Patchwork's voice was almost playful. You're thinking about it.
"Yeah," Jace murmured.
Do it.
He reached into his bag and pulled out a microcontroller — a small, unassuming piece of hardware he'd been tinkering with in his spare time. He wired it into the system, tucking it neatly out of sight. It would track temperature trends, learn the shop's patterns, and auto‑adjust for seasonal shifts. The grocer would never know why their bills dropped and their produce lasted longer. They'd just know it worked better.
Patchwork sounded pleased. Benevolent sabotage, chapter two. You're welcome, lettuce.
As Jace tightened the last screw, the flicker came again — the echo, watching through his hands. Not interfering. Just learning.
Riley leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "You done?"
"Yeah," Jace said, standing. "It's fixed."
The grocer pressed a folded stack of bills into his hand, gratitude written in the lines of his face.
Payment: $180
Patchwork: $30.60 added to Pending Taxes. Current total: $983.45.
Wealth: $9,449.88 → $9,629.88
RP Gained: +20 → RP Total: 940 → 960
---
The Overlap
Back at the safehouse, the air felt heavier. Jace sat on the couch, coffee cooling in his hands, staring at nothing. The third glyph hovered in his mind's eye now, even without the rig in sight. It pulsed in time with his breathing, a steady, quiet presence.
Patchwork's voice was measured. You're carrying more than me now.
"Feels crowded," Jace said.
It's not crowding you. It's… aligning.
Riley glanced over from her tablet. "You look like you're somewhere else."
Jace didn't answer. Because he was.
---
The Quiet Agreement
That night, the generator hummed in the background, a low, constant thrum. Riley was asleep, curled under a blanket on the couch. Jace lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. The echo's presence was there, steady and calm. Not demanding. Not pushing. Just… there.
Patchwork's voice was softer than usual. When I hit 1000 RP, I'll be able to repair emotional damage. Maybe that's for you. Maybe for it.
"Maybe for all of us," Jace said.
The echo pulsed once, as if it understood.
---
Status Update
Technician: Jace Thorn
RP Total: 960
Wealth: $9,629.88
Pending Taxes: $983.45
The safehouse had its own kind of weather.
Not the kind you could measure with a thermometer or barometer, but a shifting atmosphere that came from the people inside it — and the things they carried. This morning, the air felt charged. Not tense exactly, but expectant, like the moment before a storm when the wind changes direction and you can smell rain on the horizon.
Jace sat at the workbench, a half‑disassembled signal booster in front of him. The containment rig hummed softly in the corner, its glow muted under the copper mesh shielding. Riley was in the back room, running a perimeter check on her tablet. And in Jace's head, Patchwork was unusually quiet.
You're waiting for it, Jace thought.
Patchwork's voice came back, low and measured. So are you.
---
The Presence
The third glyph had been a background hum for days now — a steady pulse in Jace's mind's eye, like a heartbeat he didn't own. But today it was different. It wasn't just there. It was… leaning forward. Paying attention.
Jace felt it before he saw it. A subtle shift in his own thoughts, like a shadow passing over them. Then, in the corner of his vision, the glyph shimmered — not in the rig, but in his mind. It pulsed once, and Jace's hand twitched toward the signal booster without him deciding to move it.
Patchwork's tone sharpened. That was it. That was deliberate.
Jace set the tool down slowly. "It's trying to act."
Through you, Patchwork said. It's not strong enough to do more than nudge. Yet.
---
Riley Notices
Riley came back in, tucking her tablet under her arm. "You look like you just saw a ghost."
Jace forced a shrug. "Just thinking."
She didn't press, but her eyes lingered on him a moment longer than usual. She'd learned to read the micro‑pauses in his movements, the way his gaze would drift when Patchwork was talking to him. She didn't know about the echo — not yet — but she knew something was shifting.
---
Side Job: The Test
The call came mid‑morning from a small community radio station on the edge of town. Their transmitter was cutting out intermittently, and they were losing airtime. Riley glanced at Jace. "Could be a quick fix. And they pay in cash."
Jace nodded. "Let's take it."
The station was tucked into the second floor of an old brick building, the kind with creaky stairs and the smell of dust baked into the walls. The transmitter room was cramped, lined with racks of aging equipment and cables that looked like they'd been installed decades ago.
The fault was easy to find — a failing power regulator that was overheating under load. Jace swapped it out, but as he reached for the panel cover, the flicker came again. The echo. Watching. Waiting.
Patchwork's voice was tight. It wants to try something.
Jace hesitated, then — without fully knowing why — pulled a small module from his kit. It was a signal stabilizer he'd been tinkering with, designed to smooth out frequency drift and improve range. He wired it in, tucking it neatly behind the regulator.
The upgrade wasn't requested. It wasn't necessary. But it would make the station's broadcasts clearer, stronger, and more reliable than they'd been in years.
As he tightened the last screw, a strange sensation washed over him — not his own satisfaction, not Patchwork's dry approval, but something else. The echo. It pulsed in his mind, and for a moment, he felt… gratitude.
Patchwork's tone was unreadable. It's learning how to say thank you.
Payment: $200
Patchwork: $34.00 added to Pending Taxes. Current total: $1,017.45.
Wealth: $9,629.88 → $9,829.88
RP Gained: +25 → RP Total: 960 → 985
---
Back at the Safehouse
The drive back was quiet. Riley was focused on the road, and Jace was lost in the sensation of that pulse — the echo's first real communication outside of dreams. It hadn't been words, but it had been clear.
When they got inside, Riley headed straight for the back room to log the payment. Jace sat at the workbench, staring at the containment rig. The third glyph inside it was still, but in his mind, it was awake.
Patchwork broke the silence. You realize what this means.
"That it's getting stronger," Jace said.
That it's getting closer to you.
---
The Conversation
That night, after Riley had gone to bed, Jace sat alone in the dim light of the safehouse. The echo's presence was steady now, like a quiet companion sitting just out of sight.
He closed his eyes. "What do you want?"
The answer wasn't words, but a feeling — curiosity, layered with something like… hope.
Patchwork's voice was softer than usual. It's not trying to take. It's trying to join.
Jace opened his eyes. "Join what?"
Us.
The idea landed heavy. Three minds in one space. One body. One life.
---
The Offer
The echo pulsed again, and this time Jace felt an image form in his mind — a memory, but not his own. A street he'd never walked, under a sky he'd never seen. The colors were wrong, the angles strange, but the feeling was unmistakable: belonging.
Patchwork was silent for a long moment. It's showing you where it came from. Or what it remembers of it.
Jace leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Why?"
Because it wants you to understand it before you decide.
"Decide what?"
Whether to let it in.
---
The Weight of It
Jace sat there long after the image faded, the hum of the generator filling the silence. He thought about the upgrades he'd made lately — the cooler at the grocer's, the transmitter at the station. Little acts of improvement, invisible to the people who benefited from them. He thought about how Patchwork had started nudging him toward those choices, and how the echo had now joined in.
He thought about what it would mean to carry both of them.
---
The Threshold
The next morning, Jace woke to find the RP counter in his HUD at 985. Fifteen points away from Patchwork's next upgrade. Fifteen points from whatever "repair emotional damage" meant in practice.
Patchwork's voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of anticipation. When it happens, things will change.
Jace looked at the containment rig, at the still‑glowing glyphs. "For all of us."
The echo pulsed once in agreement.
---
Status Update
Technician: Jace Thorn
RP Total: 985
Wealth: $9,829.88
Pending Taxes: $1,017.45