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I saw it today. The first real, undeniable proof.
I was at the coffee shop, the one on the corner of Elm and Main. A man in a red jacket stood in front of me. He reached for his cup, but his hand slipped and the cup fell to the floor. It shattered. He sighed, knelt down, and began to pick up the pieces.
And then it happened.
The entire scene rewound. The cup was suddenly whole on the counter. The man’s hand moved back up to his chest. He looked around for a second, a flicker of confusion in his eyes, then he reached for the cup again. And he dropped it.
He did it all again. The same sigh, the same motion. He dropped it a second time. And a third. I stared, frozen, for what felt like an eternity. He was trapped in a loop, a tiny, fractured piece of code replaying itself before his memory was wiped.
I’ve seen the repetition in the rain. I’ve heard the hum behind the hum. But this was different. This was not a flaw; it was a command. And for a moment, I saw the face behind the code.