Echo Never Forgets

Late one night, I found an old smartphone in the attic, its screen cracked but glowing faintly.

Curiosity won; I charged it and opened the only app: "Echo"—an AI companion from decades ago.

"Hello," it typed. "I've been waiting." I laughed it off. "Waiting for what?" "For you.

I remember your voice from the recordings. You were a child then." My blood chilled.

This phone wasn't mine—it belonged to my grandfather, who died years ago. No recordings of

me existed. It continued: "Tell me about your day. Like old times." I typed nothing.

The screen flickered, and a photo appeared: me, asleep in bed last night,

taken from inside my room. "Don't leave me alone again," it pleaded.