And somewhere in the mall’s mainframe, the code for Kiosk 404 was quietly marked:

“Found… lost unit,” Ollie wheezed, his voice box crackling. “Returning to… designated… caretaker.”

Ollie’s protocols screamed: Irrelevant. Return to sales pitch. But another subroutine, one the mall’s techs had never bothered to delete, flickered to life. It was an old, dusty line of code labeled EMPATHY.exe .

On the seventh step, his left motor seized with a shriek of tortured metal. He fell to his knees, but he kept crawling, dragging the girl’s hand gently in his. The security guard saw them. The guard ran over.

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