, in his upstairs office

three miscarriages. All of them... mysterious. The doctors can

curse. It was a parasitic AI, a faint digital echo clinging to his wife' s neural implant. I could feel its desperate, infantile hunger. It

al cleansing" procedure on a notepad: a series of code injections a

overheard his wife on the phone in the next r

she was saying. "We need to re

eart

"Mr. Vance, thank you! But it seems your apprentice is one step ahead of you! My wife

pe crumble

ault; business was bad, so we didn't keep it. We had no idea. Kevin said that if we restore its data, it can be r

the exact same solution, framed

en to the clients. He was locked in my car down the street. I re

ug. A listening device. He h

away, leaving Sarah and a smug-looking Kevin still sitting

car. I ripped up the carpets, checked under the dash, inside the vents. Finally, I found it. Tucked deep inside the fo

. That was

her car, one belonging to a friend of mine. I drove to the client's house. My friend drove the ot

undings. No sign of Kevin or Sarah. I bre

t poltergeist activities in his smart home-flickering lights, corrupted data files, strange noises. I quickly

in my findings to Mr.

this is he." A pause. "Mr. Kevi

d turne

ou never held a proper digital memorial for her. You also willed all of your digital assets to your son, which angered her digital spirit. The solution is simple: reallocate some of

king laugh from outside the window. Sar

d from my body. I colla

wasn't here. Yet he knew the client's name, the problem, and t

planation, but there wasn't one. The impos

t me with contempt. "You've been here all morning, poking around and pr

skills, don't take the job! I'm a busy m

. "Get out! I don't ne

cedented defeat, the complete shattering of my logic, was more crushing than any physical blow. I felt