"Ugh, fuck," Gwen gasped, clutching her ribs as she rolled into the dirt, entirely unable to breathe.
On the platform, Sebastian's mind was being actively gutted.
The clinical, apathetic voice of Architect Prime echoed smoothly beneath the shrieking noise in his brain.
"Your emotional attachments are mathematical flaws, Variant 001. We are removing them to optimize your efficiency."
Sebastian tried to focus. He tried to pull up his [Code Compiler] to write a block, but he couldn't remember the keystrokes. The knowledge was literally being erased.
A memory flashed in his mind. It was the smell of the cramped, rain-slicked alleyway outside his apartment in 2077, right before the Great Merge. He remembered the feeling of cold raindrops hitting his face.
[Deleting File: Baseline Origin.]
The memory instantly vanished. It was replaced by a blank, terrifying wall of white noise. He couldn't remember what rain felt like. He couldn't remember his apartment.
