Inside, the air tasted of copper and old rain. ZXDZ-01—that was me, or at least what the stenciled label on my chest said—stood in the center of a circular room. No windows. One bare bulb swinging overhead, casting jittery shadows like frightened fish.

The floor crumbled behind me.

Then I heard it. A whisper, but not in my ears—in my bones .

Here’s a story based on your prompt “zxdz 01.” (I’ve interpreted it as a code or designation for a subject, possibly a robot, experiment, or facility.) Log Entry: Day 1

“ZX… DZ… come home.”