She opened the “System History” tab.
[TRACE LOG | THERAPY/CACHE]
Access: 02:41
Duration: 00:11:03
Source: UNKNOWN
Path: /therapy/cache/temp/assist
Flag: mirror_session (beta)
Mirror session. Beta. No origin.
Someone had copied her session—not extracted it, but mirrored it. An echo ringing through her neural memory. She shivered. A foreign activity, deep inside her. Not on the computer, but in her head. In the memory itself.
Her fingers hovered above the keyboard. Someone was inside her. Not a normal hack, but a presence that shouldn’t exist.
The kick in her chest wasn’t about the tech; it was the intimacy. Her head, her memories. Now a copy. A mirror. Someone was seeing what she saw—or worse: had access to things she’d already suppressed.
What if it had been going on longer? That fog, that flicker, losing thoughts—not stress, not overwork, but a system error. Or a system.
EMILY: Jax. Online?
JAX: Here. What’s up?
EMILY: Unauthorized access. Therapy cache. Mirror flag. No origin.
JAX: Don’t click. Share your screen. Show the log.
She enabled sharing. His breath in the headset. Silence.
“Beta flag without origin is… unusual,” he said. “Normally mirror sessions have an official counterpart. Supervision, cross-check, backup. But without a source…”
“Meaning what?”
“You’ve got a session that doesn’t officially exist. Copied, undocumented. Someone set it up deliberately—or hijacked your history.”
“Who can do that?”
“Someone with master access. Clinic. Developer. Or—worst case—someone with a backdoor key.”
“Voigt?” she whispered.
A hesitation. “In theory. But… I don’t think he has access to your live cache. Only retrospective.”
Something tightened inside her. Not pain, a pressure. As if someone pressed a finger on a thought she wasn’t allowed to think.
“Tell me this is a bug.”
Jax’s voice was flat. “This isn’t a bug. This is curated perception. You’re being guided. Maybe for weeks.”
