Fawn finally turned. Her synthetic eye whirred, a tiny silver ring spinning as it calibrated to Indira’s heat signature. "I am small, Indira. I’m made of the same light and logic as that projection. If the art is dead, what does that make me?"
The silence that followed wasn't sterile anymore; it was heavy. Indira’s expression softened, the jagged edges of her frustration smoothing out into something like regret. She stepped closer, reaching out as if to touch Fawn’s shoulder, then hesitating. Pixels of You Free ePUB & PDF by Ananth Hirsh, ...
"It makes you a mirror," Indira said quietly. "But a mirror only shows what’s in front of it. You’re supposed to be the one holding the camera, Fawn. You’re supposed to choose what we see." Fawn finally turned