He shrugged. As long as the rain moved again. He set it to "Audio Responsive" and blasted some synthwave.
His wallpapers froze. The audio-responsive waves became a flat line. The Matrix code rain stopped mid-fall, frozen pixels mocking him. His desktop felt like a morgue.
He lunged for the power strip. But the screen was already dark. The only light in the room came from the reflection in the dead monitor—a reflection that was no longer his.
