She needed to shut Em out long enough for her to get down to the ground, check the whole chamber. She needed Em out of her suit, her display, her head. It was like Em lived there now, deep in the recesses, in the folds and valleys of gray matter, a voice riding shotgun in her brain. Maybe it hadn’t been stress, back in the tunnel. Maybe when she’d felt that sick sensation that she was being watched, it was because she could hear Em’s breathing, the faint sound of her shifting at her desk. Em, always there but not there, necessary but ultimately useless, so useless. Worse than useless.
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