Elias froze. The timestamp was two minutes ago. The coordinates were his own apartment.

The "game" was a simulation of his own life, and the "power struggle" was about who held the controller.

He clicked it. The video was a live feed of his own back, viewed from the dark corner of the room behind him. In the video, a figure was standing just inches from his chair, reaching out toward his neck.

He scrolled down. The document wasn't a game script; it was a log of his heart rate, the ambient temperature of his room, and a transcript of the mutterings he’d made to himself while waiting for the download.

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