"He is stealing their pulse."
Victoria Price stared at the primary broadcast monitor. Her hands gripped the metal scaffolding of the staging tunnel.
Out on the massive stadium floor, eighty thousand screaming fans suddenly went silent.
The opening ceremony for the World Championship had just begun. The tournament organizers did not hire a famous pop star. They deployed a ghost.
Project Apollo stood in the exact center of the glowing arena. He wore a pristine white uniform. He held a simple silver microphone.
The clone did not use a backing track. He did not use synthetic drums. He just opened his mouth and sang the tournament anthem.
His tenor voice echoed through the massive stadium speakers. The pitch was mathematically flawless. The tone hit the exact center of the human auditory
