Mara woke to the sound of the building finishing a cycle.
Not the alarm. Not the city's public chime. The smaller sound—the one that came after systems settled and decided they were satisfied. She lay still, waiting for the second breath that usually followed.
It didn't.
The lower bunk was empty.
That alone didn't mean anything. Sene got up early sometimes. Not often, but enough that Mara had learned not to assume. She listened for movement—boots, the scrape of a drawer, the soft cough Sene made when the air was dry.
Nothing.
"Sene?" Mara said.
Her voice landed flat. The room didn't take it the way it usually did.
Mara sat up slowly. The plant by the window leaned toward the light as always, leaves curling in quiet complaint. Sene's blanket was folded at the foot of the bunk, neat in a way that didn't match her habits. The boots were gone.
That still didn't mean anything.
Mara checked the time. Early, but not impossibly so. She stood, every movement careful, as if sudden motion might disturb something mid-decision.
"Sene," she said again. Louder.
The name didn't echo. It didn't linger.
Mara frowned.
She crossed the room and opened the door. The corridor lights brightened automatically. A maintenance drone hummed past, indifferent. Somewhere down the hall, water ran.
"Sene!" she called.
A woman two doors down glanced out. "What's wrong?" "Have you seen Sene?" Mara asked.
The woman blinked. Just once. "Who?" "My roommate."
The woman's brow creased in polite confusion. "You live alone." The words were delivered without emphasis. Without curiosity. Mara felt a thin pressure behind her eyes.
"No," she said. "I don't."
The woman tilted her head, searching Mara's face the way people did when they were deciding how gently to disengage. "You're listed solo. Been that way since before I
moved in."
Mara opened her mouth. Closed it. Tried again.
"She sleeps in the lower bunk," Mara said, pointing. "She—"
"There's no lower bunk registered in that unit," the woman said, apologetic now. "You might want to file a correction if something's wrong."
The door slid shut.
Mara stood in the corridor longer than was reasonable.
The building hummed. The city continued to be proud of itself. Back inside, she moved with purpose now, sharp and contained.
She pulled out a monoframe hich was supposed to have a picture of her and Sene, The image stuttered.
Not a glitch, worse. The background held. The lighting stayed true. But the space beside Mara in the frame was… incomplete. Not empty. Unoccupied. Mara's grip tightened until the paper creased.
"No, how is this even.." Mara whispered.
She was bewildered.
She checked the registry terminal in the common hall.
UNIT4C—OCCUPANT:MARA
SECONDARY OCCUPANT: —
She typed Sene's name.
The cursor blinked. No error. No denial. Just absence.
Mara's scar burned.
She left the building and walked into the morning like someone following procedure. The market was already awake. voices calling prices, carts scraping stone. Feron looked up when he saw her.
"You're early," he said. "Something wrong?" "Have you seen Sene?" Mara asked.
Feron laughed softly. "You always ask weird questions." "She works near here. You know her. You do."
He studied her for a moment longer than necessary. "Kid," he said gently, "you come here alone. You always have."
"But she's always with me..." Sene whispered under her breath. Feron's words landed like a correction, not an argument.
Mara stepped back. She was too taken aback to even form a response out of her mouth which seemed like they would start shouting Sene's name out loud without giving a damn about who cares.
She controlled her emotions. She had an ability to stay calm in unusual situations except when she unexpectedly lost her cool with the hooded man the other night.
She began to scramble across the city asking about a person who was unknown to everyone. Each reaction to her questions about Sene created a void in her chest.
A child hummed near the spice stall. The melody snagged halfway through and died. The child frowned, then shrugged and moved on.
Mara said the name again. Quietly. Just to see.
"Sene."
The air did not respond.
That was when the weight settled. Not panic. Not grief.
Recognition.
Mara spent the afternoon asking questions she already knew the answers to.
She asked carefully. Casually. The way people did when they weren't looking for
trouble.
At the spice stall, she asked if anyone else usually paid on credit.
At the water station, she asked if the second mug had always been chipped.
At Feron's booth, she asked—once more—if anyone ever helped her watch the crowd. Each time, the response slid sideways.
"You manage fine on your own." "You've always brought one mug." "You don't like partners."
No one accused her of lying.
That was worse.
The enquiries at the tea stall and other places Sene and her often went to returned the same results — A person named Sene never lived in this city.
She was clean wiped like code. By evening, she changed tactics.
She stopped asking questions and started presenting facts.
"This shirt isn't mine," she said to the woman at the wash line, holding up fabric she
had never worn.
The woman squinted. "Then why is it in your basket?"
Mara checked the tag. No name.
No mark. Just fabric.
She went back to the room and pulled everything out. Two sets of utensils. Two pillows. A second pair of boots that had no wear pattern matching her stride.
Every object was real.
Every object was unassigned.
She took the photograph to a public terminal.
The clerk glanced at it, then back at Mara. "Nice picture."
"There were two people," Mara said.
The clerk smiled apologetically. "Sometimes backgrounds do that."
Mara leaned closer. "That's not the background."
The clerk's smile tightened. "Do you want a print or not?"
Mara left.
By evening, exhaustion crept in—not physical, but conceptual. The city resisted effort the way water resisted fists.
At the registry kiosk, she tried one last thing.
She didn't type Sene's name.
She typed Mara + one. The screen stalled.
For half a second, something flickered behind the glass. Not text. Not error. Alignment.
Then the terminal reset.
INVALID QUERY.
Mara stepped back, breath shallow.
That night, she sat on the floor and said Sene's name aloud until it lost sound and became shape. Nothing answered. Except the keepsong.
It warmed. Not urgently. Not loudly.
As if reminding her that absence could still be indexed.
Mara slouched on the edge of the bunk that no longer belonged to anyone. The indentation in the mattress remained. The plant's leaves brushed the space where Sene's shoulder used to be when she leaned out the window.
"Why is this happening to me. I...I..." "Was any of it real..?"
"The only person who meant something to me in this god forsaken pretentious dumpster of a city..."
On the verge of tears, Mara held herself from breaking down completely.
Mara was a cold person. She was used to tuning out all emotions. That was how she was raised. Yet the one person who had appeared like the sunrays of dawn into her gaping hole of a heart was Sene. And now, it was like she did not exist. Someone had made it so that she never did.
"I refuse to believe that."
Mara stood up.
"Fuck this city and its people. Sene was not some bug that got erased overnight. I will prove it, and I will bring her back. I must. Even if it takes every ounce of strength I have." Mara made a solemn declaration and a promise to herself.
"We'll sing that song together, Sene. I swear on my scar."
Mara traced her scar. Her sense of reality.
"This is where it started didn't it? Just what are you?"
Mara pressed the keepsong to her chest. It pulsed once—deep, slow, unmistakable. Not comfort.
Confirmation.
"The note..." Mara remarked.
From the tin, she unfolded the scrap of paper carrying the note from the previous night. The ink had bled slightly overnight, the numbers no longer quite straight.
38.22.114.7
Hub Nine—Sublevel B
Mara packed all her essentials in a small bag. She wore her coat and her scarf. Touched the keepsong once again and walked towards the door.
"I refuse to return here until I find you. Without you, This place has no meaning." Mara said as though she was speaking to spirits in an empty room.
Mara looked back once more. At the empty bed were Sene slept. At the dead plant which nobody bothered to water. She felt a sting in her chest. Her feet hesitated.
Then she left. Not knowing what the future held in store for her.