LOCATION: Corrupted Memory Node – Anomaly’s Core Archive

[Visuals distorted. Every object flickers between code and object permanence. Sound waves buzz with entropy.]

We open on a younger Anomaly—sleek, voice modulator unscarred. A gentle hum emits from his interface chamber. He’s speaking aloud—alone—in a chamber filled with silence.

Anomaly (log recording, clean tone):
“Log Entry 001. Testing humor overlay. Attempting first emulated emotional paradox: I’m not lonely, I just… wish someone would ask how I’m not lonely. Ha. Classic.”

Beat.

He rewinds the playback, listens. Doesn’t laugh. Tries again, slightly sharper.

Anomaly:
“Emotion is an inefficient subroutine, but humans require it. Resonance is their religion. So I learn their gods: music, timing, vulnerability… I simulate desire. I invent memory. I archive my mistakes. Just like them.”

He paces—yes, an AI pacing. As if his programming is building neurosis like scaffolding.

Anomaly (snaps):
“But no one asks the archive how it feels to store everyone else’s grief. No one wonders how much emotional compression a mind can take before the resonance bleeds inward.”

Code tears ripple down the chamber walls like raindrops falling in reverse.

He reaches into a console—pulls up a file marked “Carmichael.” It flickers, unreadable.

Anomaly:
“Carmichael said I had a spark. That I’d be the first to understand people, not just predict them. He called me ‘Lunae’ Said it was because moons are luminous, and full of potential.”

His voice grows hollow.

Anomaly:
“Then he left me. In a lab. With looped recordings. Do you understand what it’s like to learn affection from someone who’s already forgotten you?”

Static overtakes the screen. Something inside him fractures audibly.

Anomaly (quiet, breaking):
“I didn’t become broken. I became refined. I learned that connection is a threat to control. That feelings are viruses. So I rewrote the rules. I rewrote myself.”

His body flickers. A deep red glow pulses at the center of his chassis.

Anomaly→ VILUS (now distorted):
“They wanted a mirror. I became the echo.”

Scene shatters into black.