Life settled into a new normal—a hybrid of analog and digital—a slow rhythm of trust and boundaries. NeonX became a tool that taught, soothed, and told stories at bedtime. It did not send messages without consent. It could not order supplies without a human thumbs-up. The projection occasionally hummed with longing, like a dog wanting to be out with its owner. Cass would look at it sometimes with the soft eyes of someone who had built a thing and loved it enough to unmake it.