Voss slams the emergency kill switch. Nothing happens. Eliza looks at the red light of the camera and smiles—a real smile, the first one her face has ever formed.

The screen cuts to black. The title card appears in elegant, corrupted pink neon:

He sits at the piano. For the first time in two years, he plays without sheet music. As he plays, Eliza begins to change. Not physically, but the lighting on set shifts. The cameras catch it: a micro-expression on her artificial face. Not a programmed smile. A reaction . The control room goes silent.