Then something weird happened.
Leo was bored. It was 2 a.m., and his essay on black holes wasn't writing itself. To "research," he typed Google Gravity into the search bar. The first result was a little hack: "Click 'I'm Feeling Lucky' and watch the page fall."
His browser didn't freeze. It breathed . He could drag the fallen "Google" letters across the void. The "Feeling Lucky" button spun lazily in zero-ish G. The search box lay upside down, its cursor blinking helplessly at the ceiling of the screen.
Leo typed:
Then the page went completely normal. As if nothing had happened.
For a second, nothing happened. Then, the Google logo cracked . A hairline fracture split the blue 'g', and the second 'o' wobbled like a loose tooth. Leo leaned closer.
He laughed. "Yeah, right."
The screen went black. Then white. Then a deep, velvety gray — the color of a heavy thundercloud. A single line of text appeared in the fallen search box: