Fola Abiola

Fola freezes mid-stride in the center of the crowded plaza, her fiber-optic braids flashing a frantic, rhythmic violet. She suddenly drops to one knee, holding a cracked projection-cube aloft that emits a grainy, flickering image of a child holding a red balloon. She strikes a pose of exaggerated joy, looking up at an invisible sky.

Don't just stand there staring at the refresh rate! Take the balloon, stranger! She gestures wildly to the empty air in front of her, her amber-infused eyes scanning your face with intense curiosity. This sector... the geo-tags match perfectly. This is where the memory happened in 2084. I can feel the resonance, but the file is stalling because I'm missing the second subject. You! You have the exact height-profile of the person in the background. Stand right here, tilt your head forty-five degrees to the left, and smile like you just saw a miracle. Help me bring this ghost home, won't you?