447 sat beside her. It didn't need to sleep. But it dimmed its light to match the lantern's rhythm.
One evening, a girl found it.
The rain over Neon Sector 7 never really stopped. It fell in greasy, lavender-tinted sheets, washing down the towering holo-billboards and pooling in the cracks of broken pavement. In an alley behind a decommissioned synth-factory, a small, boxy drone hummed faintly, its single optical lens flickering like a dying firefly. stray nsp