No Echoes Novels & Stories

“It’s late.” “I~~I can’t sleep.” She mumbled. “I want to check on Hannah’s cats.” Echo thought for a while. “Hannah’s not home.” He said as he opened the door to his unit. “You are free to stay for a while. I have books that I can lend.” She hesitated. But maybe the Echo was different from others. He won’t do something crazy to her, right? Like any other man. “Don’t worry, I won’t do anything to you. You are free to get out anytime. You know my code and locks.”

When Purple handed the copy back to him, their fingers brushed again, and neither of them pulled away right away. “One more thing,” Echo said quietly, folding his copy and tucking it safely into his pocket. “If you want me to stop, at any point, for any reason… you say the word. And I stop. No questions asked.” Purple looked away, but she didn’t pull her hand back. “I’ll remember that.”

Raw data flooded the screen: timestamps, audio spectrums, encrypted surveillance. Slipping on noise-canceling headphones, she played the first audio file. Static. Then, her mother’s distorted but unmistakable voice: “If anyone hears this... remember me. I am not a shadow. I am not your project.” Isabella froze, hands trembling. The clip was layered, her mother’s voice beneath subliminal commands: “You will forget. You will comply. You are safe. You are nothing.” This was the Echo Protocol, raw, violent, stripped of pretense—mental warfare, not therapy.

Then he took my hand and led me toward the car. Shawn's voice cracked behind us. "Scarlett!" "Anything else?" I turned around. His lips parted, but no words came out. His face looked paler than winter snow. Edith tilted her head. "Mommy, is he ill? He looks pale, like when I was sick." I didn't know how to answer her. Byron took her from my arms and spoke gently. "Want some cupcakes tonight?" "Cupcakes! Hooray!" she chirped. Kids were like that, easily distracted.

Outside, Prague slept in ragged interval sirens, the soft clink of late-night traffic while in Loren’s apartment the only steady noise was the steadying of my own pulse. Echo-2 was an idea in code that had turned into a presence inside the core. It was a subroutine designed to extrapolate intent from data—an anticipatory engine that didn’t only predict movement but suggested options: intercept here, expose there, freeze the route now or later. It spoke in probabilities. It whispered choices with the careful impartiality of a scalpel. “Echo-2 learns by trial,” Loren said, hands folded, voice low. “We’ll give it a low-stakes exercise. No human lives in the balance. We want clean feedback loop

The moment those words left my mouth, the entire world seemed to fall silent. The smug arrogance on Lucas's face froze completely, twisting into something almost absurd. Silas froze, too. The storm raging inside his head suddenly went still, leaving behind only one sentence repeating endlessly. [She likes me... She said she likes me... She actually said it herself... I'm not dreaming...] The overwhelming joy in his eyes was so intense it almost felt tangible. Lucas was the first to snap back to reality. Pointing wildly between Silas and me, he doubled over with hysterical laughter, practically doubled over.

"The one where no one can hear us. Please." He did not hesitate. He lifted her up easily, her legs wrapping around his waist, and carried her down the hallway. Once inside his private home office, he locked the thick heavy door behind them. The room was specially designed with soundproof walls, thick panels, and a heavy door for late night business calls. No sound would escape. It was the perfect place for what was about to happen.

Then their footsteps echoed. One step. One echo. Two steps. Two echoes. Normal. Then Thomas stopped. Immediately. Then: "Wait." Silence. Then Ava frowned. Then: "What?" Thomas looked behind them. Then: "Our echoes." Everyone listened. The street became completely still. Then they heard it. Their footsteps. Again. One second later. Impossible. God. No. Fair. Absolutely not. Reasonable honestly. Then Rowan stepped forward. Once. The echo followed. Late. Much later than it should.

Cecilia hugged me and said comfortingly, "Alright. Let's not think about such depressing things anymore now that you're home. It's just a diamond necklace. I'll buy you a few more accessories tomorrow, enough that you can just wear a different one every day." I burst into laughter, the sadness that I'd felt from ruminating on the past had washed away slightly. I had a good sleep that night. ... The next day, I suddenly received a bunch of missed calls from an unknown number. I had a habit of turning on airplane mode when I slept. The moment I turned it off, I started hearing notification sounds for over 99 missed calls. A second later, my phone rang, and I tentatively chose to answer the cal

All I could think was this is it. And then, through the haze, I heard the smallest sound — a soft, frightened voice. “Mommy?” My daughter was standing in the doorway, wide-eyed, frozen. I tried to speak, but no sound came out — just a rasp, a whisper of her name. It was barely audible, but it was enough. He turned his head toward her, just for a second — and that second saved my life.