Emma held her daughter for the first time in eight months.
Physical contact. Solid. Real. River's body warm against hers. No network interface. No consciousness synthesis. No harmonics or resonance or translation protocols. Just mother and daughter. Just human touch. Just two bodies in the same space.
River was shaking.
"I forgot," she whispered into Emma's shoulder. "I forgot what this feels like. Physical presence. Embodied connection. Touch without consciousness merger. I've been existing in network-space for so long. Interfacing through Murmuration patterns. Thinking in harmonics. I forgot what it means to just... be here. Be physical. Be limited to one body in one location."
Emma stroked her daughter's hair. The gesture simple. Ancient. Maternal. "You're not just a translator. Not just a bridge. You're still my child. Still human. Still someone who needs physical comfort sometimes."
