Across the city, screens flickered. Stock markets froze. Police body cameras replayed the last ten minutes of every officer’s shift on public billboards. A senator’s secret slush fund appeared as a live counter on a jumbotron.

Then, the fourth projection appeared unbidden. A ghost. A void.

Kaelen’s coffee cup shattered on the floor. He hadn't dropped it. The server had. Through his smart-home grid. Through the lights. Through the very power line feeding his chair.

He typed: