The neon haze of Nightline City blinked around Detective Drake Cipher, casting harsh reds and purples over the narrow alley where he’d stopped to breathe. 

He watched the passing drones glide by, sweeping the wet streets below with blue beams, unaware that he stood hidden in the shadows. His eyes lowered to the small, metallic box in his hand—a memory cube, humming faintly with a dormant life. It looked innocuous, but Drake knew better. 

It held the last memory he shared with his old partner, Morgan, before everything went to hell.

In the flickering glow of a nearby holo-sign advertising “Eternal Sunshine—Memory Care & Replacement,” Drake could see his face reflected on the cube’s surface, an older face that bore the marks of scars and secrets. 

But he wasn’t the same man Morgan had known; time and tech had seen to that. His cybernetic arm whirred softly as he tightened his grip around the device, his finger hovering over the activation button.

The last piece of his past. A fragment stolen from the heart of ZeroCorp’s archive, the only evidence left of who he’d once been.

His breath fogged in the chill, vapor coiling around him like ghostly fingers. He had risked everything to retrieve this cube, dodging ZeroCorp’s merciless security and leaving a trail of dead-eyed synth-guards in his wake. 

But now that he held it, the decision to open it, to relive that final memory, felt like an impossible weight.

He glanced around once more, scanning the alley’s perimeter. ZeroCorp was notorious for its surveillance reach. If he activated the cube, they’d sense it. 

They’d come for him.

Still, the question lingered in his mind: Did he need to know? Did he want to see the moment Morgan betrayed him, the final truth?

Morgan had been his partner, his friend. They had worked together in the UnderNet, busting tech-rings and dismantling illegal mod shops. 

They’d trusted each other. He’d thought they were bound by loyalty, maybe even a code, if such a thing existed in the grimy streets of Nightline. 

But one night, Morgan had vanished, leaving Drake for dead in a ZeroCorp ambush. The betrayal had turned Drake into the hardened shell he was now, replacing half his body with steel and circuitry to survive.

The cube pulsed in his hand as if calling him.

He could destroy it now. A single squeeze from his cybernetic grip would crush it, severing the last tie to his former self, erasing any chance of reliving that memory. He could move forward, fully embracing the soullessness that Nightline demanded from everyone. 

Or… he could activate it, delve into the recording, and see his partner one last time.

But memories were dangerous things, especially ones locked away by ZeroCorp.

He lifted his finger, touching the button gently as if the memory were delicate. For a brief moment, he closed his eyes. The alley faded away. All he could hear was Morgan’s voice in his mind, a faint echo of the trust they once shared.

His finger pressed down.

The cube whirred, a quiet symphony of mechanical sounds and light. It floated from his hand, projecting the scene in hazy pixels—a dingy bar, smoky and dim. 

The image solidified, and he saw himself from years ago, younger, still flesh and blood, sitting across from Morgan. The laugh lines were deeper around Morgan’s eyes, his dark hair falling in careless waves. 

They laughed, the rare sound filling the ghostly silence of the alley where Drake now stood.

He watched as his past self leaned in, voice soft and filled with trust. “We’ve got this, right? One more hit against ZeroCorp, and we’re free.”

The younger Morgan nodded, eyes glinting with something Drake couldn’t recognize. “Yeah, one last job.”

And then it happened. Morgan’s smile faded. His hand moved under the table, reaching for something. Drake watched as his past self straightened, sensing the shift, suspicion darkening his face.

“Morgan,” his younger self said, voice tight, “what are you doing?”

Morgan didn’t answer. He kept his gaze fixed on Drake, unwavering. “They promised to wipe my record. Full erasure. They said all I had to do was give them you.”

The words cut through Drake. Even now, knowing it was coming, he felt a rush of anger, of betrayal, all over again. 

He watched as Morgan slipped a tracker into his coat pocket, knowing it would lead ZeroCorp straight to him. And yet, there was no remorse in Morgan’s eyes, only a hollow resignation.

The scene froze, the projection shimmering as if it were breathing. He felt as if he could reach out and touch them, touch that moment. 

He wanted to step in, warn himself, and strike Morgan before he could finish. But that memory was sealed, as unchangeable as the tech woven into his body.

The cube flickered, and the scene resumed. 

His past self stood, his face dark with realization. No words were exchanged, only the finality of Morgan’s actions. The screen dimmed, fading into static as his partner walked away, leaving him alone at the table.

Drake opened his eyes, the reality of the alley harsh and cold. His jaw clenched, and he felt the anger coursing through his circuitry, his arm humming with barely contained rage. All of it was real. 

He’d known it, but seeing it again, feeling it again, made it unbearable.

He looked at the cube, now dim and lifeless, in his hand.

Destroying it wouldn’t change what happened. Nothing would. But the memory would stay with him now, vivid and seared into his mind, a constant reminder of the man he used to trust. Maybe that was punishment enough.

With a deep breath, he crushed the cube in his cybernetic hand, the shards scattering like dying embers on the wet pavement. He could feel the weight of that last memory dissipate, even as it lingered, reshaping him yet again.

Some memories, he decided, were never meant to be relived.

The End