My room began to blur. The edges of my desk softened into pixels. I looked down at my hands, and for a terrifying second, I could see the wireframe beneath my skin. A final line appeared on the screen: [SYSTEM] Deleting SIMULACRA.zip... Please wait.
Then, the scrolling stopped. A new line appeared in bright, clinical white: File: SIMULACRA.zip ...
[LOG] 09:30:10 - Subject staring at screen. Productivity: 12%. My room began to blur
I tried to close the window, but the "X" button dodged my cursor. I tried to pull the plug, but the monitor stayed glowing, powered by something other than the wall outlet. A final line appeared on the screen: [SYSTEM]
The logs went back three years. Every keystroke, every private thought typed into a draft email, every time I looked in the mirror and sighed. It was a perfect digital ledger of my life.