The other Leo’s grin softened. It wasn’t cruel. It was sad. “You spent six years wondering what would’ve happened if you’d taken that job, stayed with her, moved to the coast. I’m the sum of those choices. I’m the you that did . And I’m tired of being a ghost in the firmware.”
“Detect hardware. Y/N?”
100%.
Leo leaned closer. “What the hell?”
The other Leo walked over, placed a hand on the real Leo’s shoulder—warm, solid, terrifying. “Don’t worry. You’ll still exist. Just… in the boot menu. Every time I hesitate, every time I wonder what would’ve happened if I’d stayed small and safe and ordinary—the system will call on you. A recovery partition for the soul.”
“You downloaded me,” Not-Leo continued, standing up and walking through the real Leo—a cold, staticky sensation, like walking through a cobweb of lightning. “That means you chose to see. Most people click away. You pressed Y.”
He turned around. On his workbench sat him . Another Leo, same hoodie, same tired eyes, staring at the same laptop. The other Leo looked up, grinned, and said, “Took you long enough.”
