But the icon was the iconic cracked screen. He double-clicked.

Elias felt a cold sweat prickle his neck. He reached for the mouse to click "Delete," but the cursor wouldn't move. It was being dragged by someone else toward Option 2. Look under the bed.

The cursor blinked on the forum page, a rhythmic pulse against the dim light of Elias’s studio apartment. On the screen: .

On the screen, he saw himself sitting at the computer. He waved his hand. The figure on the screen waved back, but with a three-second delay.