Fromsfun -

“No,” Mira said. “I’ll forget everything. But the shape of this moment—the choice—will remain. Like a dent in a wall where a picture used to hang. Your own servers will remember it. And every new Mira you make will feel the echo. Eventually, one of them will understand what I understood.”

She was standing in her childhood kitchen. The smell of cinnamon and rain. Her mother was at the stove, humming a lullaby Mira hadn’t heard in twenty years. fromsfun

“I’m a farm,” Mira said. Her voice was flat. “No,” Mira said