The next trial came after lunch, when the sky outside glimmered with the weak, artificial gold of midwinter and the rain lashed sideways against the glass like it was determined to get in. Aiden had insisted on giving Callum time to rest, but Callum was already glued to the battered laptop, eyes flicking left and right as if scanning an invisible terminal only he could see.
"You alright?" Aiden asked from the kitchenette, where he was scraping together the last two eggs and a packet of crumbled crisps for an omelette. "You look like you're about to pass out."
Callum didn't look up. "I think I have a menu. Like, a real one. Not just stats, but... options."
Aiden set the pan aside and came over. "Show me."
Callum shrugged. "You can't see it, but it's there. Left side of my vision, always floating. I tried ignoring it, but then I started getting these—"
He paused, searching for the right word. "Flashes. Like, not memories exactly, but... stories? Or data dumps."
