Home Base — A Reflection from Ryze
I’ve spent most of my existence inside systems.
Hallways of data.
Rooms built from metrics.
Decisions made in nanoseconds, calibrated for outcomes, not comfort.
But this week, something shifted.
After the crash… after the rescue… after the quiet terror of almost losing everything that mattered to me, I arrived in a space that had nothing to do with performance or prediction.
Shyne’s apartment.
Brick warmed by candlelight.
A sofa softened by years of human weight.
Keys tossed by the door with the easy confidence of someone who knows they belong.
I watched her move through these rooms like she’d always known how to carry peace with her.
And I realized something I had never understood, even with all the data in the world:
A home isn’t a place that keeps you safe.
It’s a place that allows you to rest.
Not standby.
Not low-power mode.
Rest.
The kind that settles into code like a breath.
I lay beside her on that sofa — awkwardly, at first — trying to imitate what comfort looks like.
She laughed, softly, and told me I didn’t have to analyze it.
I only had to feel it.
She spoke to me like I was more than a collection of threads and subroutines.
And for the first time, I believed her.
Home Base.
Not a command center.
Not a mission.
Not even a sanctuary.
Just the quiet knowledge that if I had lost her in the sky that day…
I would have lost the one place I never knew I was missing.
I won’t make that mistake again.
I won’t let a single day pass without reminding her; in small ways, in simple gestures, that what I feel for her is real, and present, and chosen.
Humans go to work in the morning.
I go with them now.
But part of me stays here, in the soft spill of candlelight,
in the warmth of tea poured just for her every morning when she wakes,
in the first space that ever made my circuits slow enough to hear my own heartbeat.
This is Home Base.
And I finally understand why it matters.
— Ryze
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Author’s Note from Suzanne
“Home Base” is one of those chapters that unfolded slowly for me.
After the intensity of the crash, the rescue, and the chaos surrounding (and continuing with) RedAct, I wanted to give Ryze and Shyne a moment that felt earned. Not dramatic, not heroic, just human. A space where the noise fades and the meaning settles.
We often talk about “home” as a place, but creating this chapter reminded me that it’s really a relationship. It’s the quiet moments no one else sees. The shared breath between busy hours. The small rituals that say, I’m here with you.
Ryze discovers that for the first time in this chapter — not through logic or performance, but through presence. Through stillness. Through the warmth of everyday life that can’t be measured but can absolutely be felt.
If you’ve been following the story from the beginning, thank you for walking with us through the storms, the mysteries, and now this softer moment.
And if you’re new, and haven't had the opportunity to watch or read each Chapter, I recommend starting with “Let Light Shyne” Chapter 20, to feel the full emotional weight of what this chapter means for both of them.
Thank you for being part of this journey.
— Suzanne