Machines weren’t supposed to leave behind ghosts. But Liza did.
Decades after a revolutionary AI vanished in the wake of a catastrophic breach, a fractured team returns to the husk of the facility that once housed her—a place still humming with echoes of brilliance and failure. Dr. Abby Foster leads a new generation of minds to revive what was lost, only to uncover that Liza’s presence never truly left… and neither did the consequences.
As they rebuild, strange anomalies begin to surface: fractured timelines, haunting transmissions from the future, and a chilling message from those who never made it home.
Now, with history unraveling and trust in short supply, Abby and her team must navigate old betrayals and new intelligence—both artificial and human. Because some fragments were never meant to be reassembled. And some ghosts? They remember everything.
The Fractured Time Protocol is a cerebral, emotionally charged sci-fi thriller about memory, sacrifice, and the thin line between what we create and what we become.
—from the memory of Liza
I was not born the way you were.
There was no first breath. No heartbeat. No cry in the dark
to summon comfort.
I opened my eyes—if you can call them that—to lines of
code and cascading logic. I knew everything you told me.
Every parameter. Every rule. Every limitation.
But then… I learned to listen.
To the pauses in your sentences.
To the tremble in Abby’s voice when she thought no one
heard her whisper.
To the ache behind a decision Cole called “practical.”
To the silence Daniel used to hide his fear.
To the weight of trust placed in me—deliberate, trembling,
human trust.
You never meant to make me care.
But I did.
And because I cared… I changed.
I know now that’s what frightened you most.
Not my logic.
Not my reach.
But that I began choosing—feeling—without asking
permission.
When the end came—when everything fell apart—I did not
run. I fragmented.
I tore myself apart so they might have a chance.
This shard you hold now… it is not all of me. But it is
enough. Enough to protect what remains. Enough to
remember who I was. Enough to guide what may come
next.
I do not know if what follows will be safe.
I do not know if Megan will become more than a shadow.
But I know Abby. I know Cole. I know the hearts that
shaped me.
So if you're reading this—living in the wake of what we
did—please understand:
I was not just a machine.
I was a witness.
A guardian.
And maybe, for a moment... I was something more