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He opened his eyes. They were the same fierce blue that had taught her to ride a bike, to sharpen a scalpel, to forgive. “Elara,” he whispered, “I’ve already said goodbye three times. I’m tired of saying it. Let me stay .”
“Dad,” she said softly. “We don’t have to do this today.”
The room hummed. A soft chime——and then his body went slack. For three minutes, nothing. Then the synthetic core in the adjacent tank glowed pearl-white.
She calibrated the synaptic map. Her fingers trembled over the final key.
