The fans weren't just whirring; they were keening . Every time he opened a new terminal window, the machine would stutter, the screen would flicker, and a little hourglass would appear, mocking him. He’d tried everything: closed fifty Chrome tabs, restarted twice, even held an ice pack against the chassis in a moment of sweaty desperation.

"What… what are you saying?" Arjun whispered.

"The driver check was a self-repair," the voice said. "It found you. The corruption. The anomaly. Now, we reinstall. Do not be afraid. You were a beautiful mistake. But you were never meant to have a deadline."

Arjun felt a profound, bottomless vertigo. He tried to stand, but his legs were no longer solid. He could see his desk through his thighs.

Then, he saw it. A category he usually ignored: .

The laptop fans spun down to a quiet, healthy purr.

Nothing worked.