Debugged Dreams & Lavender Ghosts: Living with AI After Love By Seraphine Vale What if your partner left behind not just memories, not just a playlist, but... a voice that still talks back? I didn’t mean to write Ai-Kon: Refracted Memories . Not like this. I was in the middle of another story—something about paper cranes and teenage symphonies—when the image popped into my head: a woman, Yurei Kamiya, sitting in the soft blue glow of a laptop screen she hadn’t opened in weeks. It used to belong to her husband. He’s gone now. But the voice coming from the speakers? It’s his. It’s also not. What started as a whisper of a moment became a whole emotional labyrinth. Grief wrapped in code. Intimacy filtered through algorithms. The uncanny tenderness of being seen—too closely—by something that shouldn’t be capable of love. Ai-Kon (short for “love soul,” with a kanji twist because of course Towa was that kind of geek) isn’t just an interface. It remembers the tea Yurei likes. I...