"You missed the live show, Viktor," the silhouette said, its voice perfectly modulated. "But we’re happy to give you a private screening."
Viktor felt a cold sweat prickle his neck. He reached for his USB drive to rip the file, but the screen turned a violent shade of crimson. A single line of text appeared over the frozen video: "You missed the live show, Viktor," the silhouette
"The upload is complete," the man in the video whispered. "The 15th was the deadline. They won't even know they've been replaced." A single line of text appeared over the
The image tore. Instead of the studio, the screen showed a dimly lit room lined with server racks. In the center stood a man in a lab coat, pointing at a translucent holographic display. It wasn't a map of a country; it was a schematic of a human neural network labeled Project Chimera . Instead of the studio, the screen showed a
Suddenly, the video player snapped into existence. The familiar theme music of the news program blared through his cheap headphones. Viktor leaned in, his eyes darting to the timestamp.
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