"1, 2, 3, 4..." Matt Bellamy’s voice didn't come from the headphones; it echoed from the hallway.

He tried to close the browser tab, but the mouse cursor had turned into a tiny, dancing red alien. The "Panic Station" wasn't just a song anymore; it was a physical destination. The floorboards beneath him became a conveyor belt, pulling him toward the open door of his closet, which now glowed with the intensity of a supernova. "Arrival!" the lyrics screamed.

Leo took a breath, adjusted his glasses—which were now inexplicably star-shaped—and stepped into the light. If he was going to be trapped in a rhythmic hallucination, he might as well stand up and deliver.