Somewhere between the gravity wells of dying stars, a shared document floats.
Scientists call it an anomaly. Programmers call it a glitch. But the astronauts know better.
The cursor blinks.
And somewhere, across eleven dimensions, Google’s servers whisper back: “Yes — all changes will be saved in Drive.” Would you like this as a flash fiction (500+ words), a logline, or a visual concept for a cover image?