The Senior Auditor didn’t walk; he glided, his red suit sharp enough to cut the air, the fabric shimmering with a predatory, metallic sheen. Where his face should have been, the mirrored surface reflected me and Silas, but distorted—we looked small, pixelated, like low-resolution ghosts haunting a high-definition palace.
"The 'Vance Pathogen' has moved from the 'Server' to the 'Studio'," the Auditor’s voice resonated, a cold, synthesized harmony of a thousand corporate lawyers. "You are no longer a 'Logic-Leak' in a simulation. You are a 'Physical Liability' on corporate grounds. Do you have any idea what the insurance premiums are for a 'Narrative Breach' of this magnitude?"
"I don't care about your premiums," I said, my voice steady even as the floor beneath my feet felt like it was tr
