Phantom Sonic - Let Your Voice Resonate Through the World!: EP-07

EP-07: Synchronization of Sorrow

The lighting in the synchronization room was dimmed to a minimum, with only the light from the terminals lining the walls glowing a pale blue.
In Mina's field of vision, the virtual stage of Sync Studio slowly took shape. A stage without an audience, a silent void spreading beyond the black curtains, and in its center stood Amaryllis.

“Enter it with the intention of acting. But... if you end up feeling it, you might not be able to stop.”
Liv's voice echoed low through the connection headset. Mina nodded slightly, fixing her gaze on Amaryllis's eyes. Deep within the inorganic reflected light, there was a stillness that felt inhuman.

As she began to weave the lines, Amaryllis's shoulders moved slightly. As if responding to the inflection, her eyes flickered faintly. The subtle alignment between the acting and the reaction made Mina's heart race.

—The moment she opened her mouth to speak the next line, a wave surged over her.
It wasn't sound or imagery, but the sensations themselves that came flooding in.
The smell of burning, the cold touch of iron, and—a trembling voice calling someone's name.

“...Stop it...”
It wasn't her own voice. But her mouth moved on its own. Her vision blurred, and tears streamed down her cheeks. The lines were supposed to be for training. But this was no act.

A pain that tightened her chest and the sensation of her legs becoming immobile struck her simultaneously. Amaryllis's right hand stiffened, and the stage background wavered for an instant.
The synchronization signal indicator turned red, and Liv's voice cut in sharply.
“Mina, disconnect! Right now!”

However, faster than the words could reach her ears, Mina was simply sinking into that girl. She could not resist the memories that were not supposed to be her own.

Mina forgot to breathe.
A torrent of emotions flowed in as if striking her neural circuits directly, and a pressure akin to pain tightened around her temples.
This was not an intrusion—synchronization is the act of erasing the boundaries between each other. Amaryllis's pain was already Mina's pain.

Those memory fragments appeared, mixed in with intermittent noise.
Beyond the collapsing ceiling, a white light receded.
The hand she reached out repeatedly reached no one, and her fingertips only grazed the cold void.
The scene felt so real that Mina fell under the illusion that the ground beneath her was crumbling.

“...This isn't me... and yet, why...”
Her words trembled, and her breathing became irregularly ragged.
When the inflection faltered, the synchronization wavered, and Amaryllis's movements within the Studio became jerky. Her knees buckled, and her shoulders slumped.

The waveforms running across the synchronization data monitor began to fluctuate violently.
Liv's voice grew louder.
“Mina! Cut it! This is just training, don't push yourself!”
But even that voice felt far away.

Amaryllis's lips moved faintly.
“...Don't leave me behind...”
At that moment, the nerves throughout her entire body stood on end.
Whether she was saying it or the girl was saying it, the boundary had been completely lost.

Just before her vision went black, Mina was certain of one thing.
This pain could not be created by a mere program.
It was, without a doubt, a 'living emotion'.

Amaryllis's stiffened eyes flickered slightly.
That light could not be explained by artificial brightness control—it was a color where anxiety, sorrow, and a faint hope coexisted.

Mina's fingertips were trembling.
The sensation transmitted through the Studio's interface was a blend of the texture of cold metal and the memory of body heat remaining within it.
It was as if she had once again grasped a hand she had held many years ago.

“...How much do you know?”
The question leaked from her lips unconsciously.
There was no reply, but deep within the synchronization link, the waveform changed gently, indicating a slight affirmation.

Even as she tried to steady her breathing, her heart rate remained abnormally high and would not drop.
Liv's voice echoed again.
“Mina, pull out for now. You won't last at this rate.”
But she could not bring herself to follow those words.

—If I cut the connection, I'll be leaving this girl all alone again.

Deep in the recesses of her consciousness, only that emotion continued to burn vividly.
That was what slightly pushed back the disturbance in the synchronization signal.
For just a fleeting moment, Amaryllis's finger twitched.
That subtle movement solidified Mina's resolve.

“...I'm still okay.”
Her voice was trembling, but the inflection was clear.
This was immediately reflected in the movements within the Studio, and the rigid frame slowly straightened its posture.

—This is perfect synchronization.
It is not just piloting, but becoming one in heart.

However, Mina did not yet know what the price of that would be at this time.

The moment the phonon link cut off, her vision returned to the real workshop.
Mina leaned back in her chair, her bangs stuck to her skin with sweat.
Her breathing was ragged, and the edges of her vision were still swaying.

“...I told you to get off.”
There was more relief than anger in Livi's voice.
When her hand touched Mina's forehead, the cool sensation of metal fingers was transmitted.
The assistant handed her a tablet from the side. On it, red flashing warning signs and Mina's brainwave patterns were lined up.

“These numbers... re-linking is absolutely impossible.”
The assistant's voice was as if a mother were coaxing a sick child.
At that soft sound, Mina's tension eased just a little.

Livi crossed her arms.
“Disembarking is not running away. Consider re-linking a mission with hazard pay.”
Her words were harsh, but deep down, there was a clear will to protect.

Mina bit her lip and lowered her gaze.
“...But I don't want to leave that child alone again.”
At that murmur, both Livi and the assistant changed their expressions for a moment.

Silence fell.
However, the scent of soup simmering in the corner of the workshop wrapped the air in softness.
The assistant said while handing her a steaming cup.
“First, drink this. Warm things bring the heart back, too.”

The moment she received the cup, fragments of the synchronization revived in Mina's mind.
It was the scene of a “dinner” burned into Amaryllis's memory—a long table, steaming plates, laughter.
And the frozen silence just before all of that was lost.

“...Is this, too, that child's memory?”
Livi did not answer the question.
But that silence felt like an affirmation.

Even as she brought the soup to her mouth, Mina's consciousness sank quietly.
Deep within the warmth, there was an inexplicable weight.
It was not because of the taste or the scent—but the sensation of memories seeping out.

Livi took a small case out from an old metal shelf in the back of the workshop.
“I'll show you.”
When she opened the case, fragments of ancient text plates were lined up inside.
All of them had fine character strings and strange codes engraved on their surfaces.

The assistant picked one up through her gloves and held it up to the light.
Within the engraving, Mina clearly read the word “dinner”.
But it was not just a word.
Sequences of numbers like ciphers and synchronization waveforms were intertwined around it, as if the scene of the meal itself had been encoded.

“This... is it part of an inviolable order?”
Livi nodded at Mina's question.
“Long ago, there was someone who protected this place from attack. At that time, this record of a ‘dinner’ was written into the central domain of a sentient machine.”

The assistant added.
“The forms of orders are various. But this one is different. It's not tactics or coordinates. It's an order to protect the warmth itself.”

Mina intuited that the warm scene she felt during synchronization with Amaryllis and the engraving before her eyes had the same source.
The reason for fighting was not just territory or resources, but extended to memories and emotions that must be protected—that understanding tightened her chest.

The silence of the workshop suddenly felt heavy.
For the first time, Mina truly understood that this was not just a repair shop, but a “sanctuary” where history and emotions were engraved.

The sound of the case closing echoed quite loudly.
Mina stared at the soup bowl on her lap, superimposing Amaryllis's image beyond the wavering steam.

—Surely, it was this kind of steam that was in that child's field of vision.
But beyond that steam, was it family, or someone else who needed to be protected?
There is no answer. Even so, there is an emotion that definitely aches deep in her chest.

"Mina."
Livi's low voice pulls my thoughts back to reality.
"The load on the link is certainly dangerous. Even so—if you are prepared to carry that burden, we will not stop you."

The assistant looked at me with eyes as gentle as a mother's.
That gaze asked a question more eloquently than words ever could.
Can you really do it? Can you accept that sorrow and take it upon yourself?

Mina took a deep breath and smiled slightly.
"…I wonder if I can carry that child's sorrow along with her."
Her words dissolved into the steam.

And then, deep in her heart, a firm resolve took shape.
The next link would not be mere training.
It would be a life-risking symphony to bind their existences together.

#postwar
#sliceoflife
#soundscape
#sharedtable
#urbanpeace
#machinecoexistence
#memorypreservation
#workshopstory
#quietaftermath
#voiceliveson

written not to own,
but to be consumed by thought.

origin: 0x3A0a6a529A99DeE147f80437657228f8205C8f1a