"You’re cutting too deep," his supervisor, Marcus, warned over a flickering holographic call. "You keep stripping the metadata, and eventually, there won’t be enough soul left to reconstruct the image."
He began the extraction. He watched the progress bar crawl from 0% to 12%. But as the file unzipped, the room around him began to shudder. It wasn't an earthquake; it was a glitch. The edges of his mahogany desk started to pixelate into sharp, wooden cubes. The smell of ozone filled the air, thick and metallic. Ferencz TГmea @ferencz.t.zip
As the extraction hit 99%, the floor beneath his chair dissolved into a sea of binary. Silas reached out to grab his mug, but his hand passed through it. He was becoming efficient. He was becoming light. He was becoming a ghost in his own machine. "You’re cutting too deep," his supervisor, Marcus, warned
