Leo watched, frozen, as the janitor dropped his mop. The woman in blue turned—her mouth opened wide, too wide, and her teeth came down on the valet’s shoulder. Blood sprayed across the sushi counter’s plastic shrimp display.
The progress bar didn’t move for three minutes. Then, a soft ding .
Leo blinked. The installer window was still there—64% complete—but superimposed over it, like a ghost on a dirty CRT, was a live security camera feed. Grayscale. Grainy. The timestamp read: .
He recognized the food court. The fake palm trees. The escalators that led to the slot machines.
The screen flickered.
His laptop’s webcam LED glowed green. It had never worked before. The driver had been corrupted for two years.