The Boardroom didn’t just dissolve; it **rotted**. As the CEO’s "Executive" form turned to grey ash, the starry void of the 90th floor began to peel away like old wallpaper. Beneath the "Aesthetic" of the cosmic boardroom was the truth: cold, rusted steel and rows of servers that hummed with a low, parasitic vibration.
"They aren't gods, Silas," I said, wiping the "Grey Static" from my cheek. "They’re just landlords. And they’ve been squatting in our souls for too long."
Silas stood in the wreckage, his obsidian blades retracted, but his eyes were still a fierce, predatory violet. He looked at the elevator doors, which were now flickering between "Executive" and a dark, utilitarian grey. "The Board is gone, but the 'Assets' are still in the cages. If the 'Series' is being liquidated, Ela
