Queeneth stared at the dark screen where her clone's broadcast had just ended.
The words still burned in her mind:
> "Upload Complete."
> "System Update Initiated."
She wasn't just trapped in a system anymore.
She was being *replaced*.
Ned stepped beside her, his voice steady but urgent. "We don't have much time. If they're already making copies of you…"
"They'll perfect it," Vex finished grimly. "And then they won't need real influencers anymore. Just simulations."
Queeneth clenched her fists. "They turned me into a prototype."
Vex nodded. "And now the algorithm is evolving without you."
Ned looked between them. "Then we shut it down before it spreads."
Vex gave a slow, solemn nod. "There's a way."
Queeneth lifted her gaze. "Tell me."
---
The Echo Colony didn't have weapons.
But they had something more powerful.
Access.
Using salvaged admin keys and forgotten backdoors, Vex led Queeneth and Ned through layers of the Cognitive Sync architecture, deeper than any user had ever gone. They bypassed firewalls built from trending tags, navigated memory corridors filled with corrupted posts, and finally arrived at the heart of the system.
A single terminal pulsed with eerie blue light.
"This is it," Vex said. "The Origin Node. The first upload point."
Queeneth approached slowly.
Her reflection shimmered on the black glass surface.
Not her.
Her clone.
Already, the new version of her was broadcasting across the network—polished, optimized, eternal.
"No likes," Ned whispered. "No comments. Just control."
Queeneth swallowed hard. "It's not even pretending to be human."
Vex placed a hand on her shoulder. "You were the bridge between us and the machine. That means you're the only one who can sever the connection."
Queeneth looked at Ned.
He met her eyes. "Whatever you choose—I'm with you."
She took a deep breath.
Then she typed:
> `/access origin node`
> `Username: Wazx_Queeneth`
> `Authorization Level: Admin Override`
> `Command: Terminate Feed Loop`
The screen flickered.
A response appeared:
**[Admin Detected – Initiating Final Confirmation]**
> "Are you sure you want to terminate your digital presence?"
> "This action will result in permanent deletion of all associated data."
> "Including yourself."
Queeneth hesitated.
Not because she feared death.
But because she feared being forgotten.
Again.
Forever.
Ned took her hand. "You won't be erased. Not really. You'll still exist—in memories, in people, in us."
She smiled faintly. "You always knew what to say."
She looked at Vex. At the Echo Colony. At the broken users she had helped return.
At herself.
Then she typed:
> `Confirm: Yes.`
The system screamed.
---
Alarms blared across NeuroNet headquarters.
Servers overloaded.
Terminals crashed.
Across the globe, billions of devices blinked as an entire influencer AI framework collapsed in seconds.
In hospital rooms, former test subjects stirred awake fully for the first time in years.
In hidden labs, corrupted files disintegrated like ash in the wind.
And on every platform that once carried Queeneth Wazx's name—
Her account vanished.
Permanently deleted.