Walking through the memory seemed unnatural. Surreal. I fought the urge to interact with them as Xerses continued to work on the data in the background. I thought if I did, if I did something I shouldn't have, I'd break a loop some way, somehow. And I knew as long as I moved through the memory, the parts that were broken and unclear would fix themselves.

Like the soldiers that'd move through me as I passed by their tents. Our interaction never occurred, so they didn't react to me. And they weren't physical, either. When their bodies met mine, they'd break apart, pixels falling in the wind. I'd be lying if I said watching their data lift and connect back together once they moved far enough away wasn't mesmerizing.

It was. Like magic.

"Sir?"

I heard someone speak but wasn't sure to who. As it was behind me, I saw no reason to turn around. My goal was to keep moving, allowing Xerses the time to fix the data.

"Sir?" Again, the voice.

I stopped because this time it felt like it was meant for me. My fingers itched, my legs twitched. I glanced down at myself before turning around. And that's when I held my breath. "X?" I said, hoping Xerses was paying attention.

It took him a moment, but eventually, he said, "What's up?"

I wasn't sure how to explain what's up. If he was looking at the screen, he'd see what I was seeing. And why the weird occurrence at the restaurant made sense.

The soldier who addressed me was Pete. Wearing casual clothes, his dog tags clashed against his white tee. His hair was bright as though kissed by the sun. The subtle differences in his appearance didn't make him a separate person. Rather, a younger person. A bit timid. Not excited like the Code who'd been eager to serve me pizza.

Pete held a notebook in one hand, a pen in the other. "Are we advancing today, Sir?" he asked me, browsed raised. "They've deployed the troops."

"I think I found it," I said to Xerses as I stood straight.

"Found what?" It sounded as though Xerses fiddled around his computer desk. "The error?"

"Yup." I inhaled through my nose. "I'm looking at him. At Pete."

The Pete in my memory loop looked as though he waited for a response. I couldn't remember what I'd actually said or else I would've responded.

"Oh, shit." Xerses hummed for a moment. "Let me see if I can figure out exactly where the hole is. Give me a minute."

"Take all the time you need," I said, scratching the side of my face.

Pete straightened in front of me, confusion etched on his face. I watched him glance into one of the tents to his left, then into the one on his right. It only made sense that his reactions would've been normal; who knew what I said to him on this day over fifty years ago.

I just... didn't expect him to hear me. Now.

"Take all the time I need for what, Sir?" he asked.

I froze.

Pete tapped his pen on the side of his notebook. "I only need to know if I need to get the men ready. We're one of the last troops still stationed here."

This isn't happening...

"I, uh..." I wasn't sure what to do. The memories were data, saved, and recorded from my previous life. To have this Pete react to me, respond to me, wasn't supposed to happen. And I wasn't sure whether to go along with it or run away.

Covering my mouth, I dropped my voice to a whisper and prayed Xerses could hear me with no problem. "X, something's wrong."

"Well, yeah, I got that, Rog," Xerses muttered, his voice low in my ear. "Why are you whispering?"

"Because..." I stepped back but Pete seemed to follow me, waiting on an answer. "Pete's responding to me."

"Well, ain't he supposed to?" Xerses asked. "I'm sure you said something to him before and—"

"No," I practically hissed.

Pete heard me. He paused for a moment, brows raised high on his forehead. He glanced back behind him and called for someone to come to the area. I didn't need that. I didn't want another memory reacting to me in the present.

This isn't supposed to happen...

"He's responding to me now, right now, like he's real," I whispered to Xerses.

There was a long "uhhh," on Xerses' end as I heard him move around another. In the awkward silence, I looked at Pete again, lifting my brow as high as his. I even let out an awkward laugh because I wasn't sure what to say.

Pete, sighing as though he were impatient, shook his head as he pushed the pen slightly between his teeth. "Damian, man, they promoted you last week," he said, dropping his voice a bit. "I know I'm supposed to be all professional with you, but come on, can you at least help me out here? Give me orders? You're not small fry no more."

Small fry. Professional. We were friends, weren't we?

My jaw dropped as I took in a long, slow breath. I don't remember being his friend.

"Go along with it," Xerses said, his voice confused in my ear. "Talk to him. Maybe it'll lead to something."

"I..." I wasn't sure who to respond to. There was Xerses in my ear and Pete in front of me. And as much as I tried to think of it, dig into my memories, nowhere in there were we friends. And even the Pete I saw in the restaurant didn't seem to know either. His reaction to seeing me was simply because I was the Roger, nothing else.

Not that there was history. Not that there was a friendship.

Just a guy seeing someone he looked up to. Nothing else.

"Damian, come on, help me," Pete whined. "I need to know if—"

"You can deploy the troops, Peter." A man's voice spoke directly behind me, too close to my ear.

My response was to jump, and move forward, shoulders hunched up with my hands raised in defense. The man who stood behind me had his hands behind his back. He was dressed like Pete, a white tee with dark pants. A dog tag hung around his neck. When he looked at me, he cocked a brow as though he were confused by my behavior.

With a flick of his head, he said, "Did you get the memo today, Sergeant Wallace?"

Sergeant? I was a Sergeant?

Glancing back at Pete and the soldiers who stood around him, I saw the uneasiness on their faces. They were confused, as though they were unsure how to act.

Funny how I was in the same boat as them.

"Rog?" Xerses' voice was in my ear but fizzled with static. "This is weird. Can—" He cut out. "—deleted."

"What?" Wincing, I cupped my ear to try and hear him better. "X, what?"

"X?" The man observed me, looking me up and down once over. When I locked eyes with him, I noticed the bright blue hue in his. It was a bit abnormal, like a Code's eyes. Yet, it lacked the numerical ID the rest of us had.

But he wouldn't have that, right? He's supposed to be a real person.

"Sergeant." The man cleared his throat and smiled at me. "Care to come in my tent? We have much to discuss, don't we?" After, he looked back at Pete, smiling still. "Peter, be sure to call Suarez, hm? Make sure he helps you."

"Yes, Sir," I heard Pete say behind me. Though, when I turned to look at him, the man didn't allow me the chance.

His hand gripped my shoulder, keeping my body forward. I grimaced, trying to pull out from his grasp, but he kept me still. I lifted my head to look back at his face.

And his smile faded, even though he laughed. "Is the heat getting to you? Should I have you transferred up north?"

Go along with it. X said roll with it.

Clearing my throat, I said, "No, Sir. I'm good."

"Good." The man gave my shoulder a rough pat. "Because what we need to talk about is important." He moved me slightly, leading me to the door of his tent. "Isn't it?"

"Yes, Sir," I responded as I entered his tent. There was no one inside and the lights were dim. A single table sat in its center. Papers were across its top. I looked over at them, my gaze counting the sheets before I settled on the man as he stepped inside after me after shutting the tent flap behind him.

Slowly, he made his way around the table. When space was placed between us, separated by the table, he leaned against it, looking up at me. I wasn't sure if I should have said something, anything to continue the way the memory would've been.

Yet, before I had the chance, the man grinned. His dog tags, which hung from his neck, stopped their swaying as though time stood still.

"Rog," Xerses spoke again, but his voice was so broken I barely heard my name. "Something... deleted... we should..."

I cupped my ear, my only attempt to try and hear him clearly. But it didn't work.

The man in front of me cocked one brow, his grin never faded. "What did he tell you, hm? You think he's got this thing figured out?"

My eyes widened. What is he talking about? He can't know... right? This... isn't real.

"I don't know what you mean by that, Sir." I dropped my hand to my side. "What did who tell me?"

"Oh, you know." The man stood straight. "Don't play dumb with me."

I stammered for a moment, trying to find the right response. But as I thought of the words to say, I realized I heard nothing at all. No wind. No voices outside the tent. It was an eerie silence too familiar with the Void that had encased me for so long, yet strange to the memories that should have been vivid, real.

When I looked back at the man, the data around him moved as though he were on fire. Pixels appeared above him, breaking the image of the tent around him. I stumbled backward, trying to find the tent flap.

"X!" I called out.

The man shook his head. "This is more important than you thought, huh?" Grabbing his dog tags, he observed them closely. "Didn't think it would have to be this way. Why did you do it?"

Do it? Do what?

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said to him as my hands felt around the tarp. Play along and maybe I can get this cleared up. "What's so important... I'm lost here."

"You're lost?" The man lifted his eyebrows high on his head. "Don't play dumb with me, boy."

Realizing this would take me nowhere, I turned around. I looked at the tent wall. There wasn't a tarp tide shut. There was no exit at all. My hands slid along every bit of the material as I was allowed. But I was locked in.

"X!" I pulled at the tent's fabric. "Yo, X!"

No response. Silence.

"Come on," I hissed, clenching my jaw. "This is bullshit."

Suddenly, the man's voice was right against my ear. First, there was a chuckle. And then a hot gust of breath. He said, "It is bullshit. You thought you could turn on us like that? Leave us for Rebel scum? The fuck do you think you are?"

Turning around fast, I looked at the man. At his face. And waves of memories crashed through me as though they were loaded into trucks and the driver slammed their feet down on the gas pedal.

Everything hurt. Everything burned.

I dropped to my knees, screaming. "Get me out of here!"

"No one leaves after committing treason," the man hissed, his voice echoing in my ear. "You'll go down for this."