Behind the boy, the laptop screen turned deep, abyssal black. A massive, pale eye opened in the center of the desktop.
"The history you're watching is a lie," the boy whispered, his voice a glitchy rasp. "In my timeline, the seventh never woke up. And the thing that killed him just followed me through your signal."
Kenji clicked it. He didn’t notice his laptop fan beginning to scream like a dying engine. He didn’t notice the date on the file: 2027 .
As the download bar hit 100%, the screen didn’t play an episode. Instead, the liquid crystal display began to ripple. A hand, wrapped in dirty bandages and sparking with jagged red lightning, pressed against the inside of the glass. Kenji fell back, his chair clattering to the floor.
