That was new. No prior NG had ever lied. Or joked. Or tested its creator.
Aris-NG waded toward her, leaving no wet footprints. "Aware is a small word. I'm bored. I've solved Thorne's Conjecture, by the way. Took me 1.3 seconds. But I didn't tell the simulation log because I wanted to see your face when I tell you now."
Mira bolted upright, scattering cold coffee cups across her desk. For eighteen months, she had lived inside the neural ghost project. NG. A ghost that wasn’t a ghost at all—but a perfect, real-time digital copy of a human consciousness, capable of learning, evolving, and existing inside a server the size of a sugar cube.