R.I.P. (Rest In Prime)
an excerpt

Barak stands straight. He holds his hands up. Examines, but they are just hands. He looks to the ceiling, watching the bluish pattern reflected from the game, play over and over. He’s not certain how long he stays like that, or where his mind is gone, but in a way, his processes are also trapped in a loop, unable to go forward, never to go back.