((top)) - Mms.mazadigital

He called the police. The line rang once, then clicked into a familiar whisper: “Lot #1004. You have three hours. Reply ‘YES’ to bid against your own extinction.”

The notification buzzed on Rohan’s phone like an angry hornet. mms.mazadigital

The figures lowered their paddles in unison. The pixelated shimmer over their faces dissolved, revealing—nothing. Just empty sockets where eyes should be, and in each socket, a tiny screen playing a different moment of his life. His first bike ride. His mother’s laugh. The time he’d cried alone in a parked car. He called the police

But sometimes, late at night, he’d hold his phone in the dark and whisper into the silent speaker: “What was the final bid?” and in each socket