The man reached out, his hand growing larger as it approached the camera lens, until the screen went white.
At the four-minute mark, a man sat down. He didn't look at the camera. He looked at his watch—a vintage analog piece. He waited. At six minutes, he reached into his coat, pulled out a silver thumb drive exactly like the one Elias held, and placed it next to the coffee. Then, the man looked directly into the lens.
"Elias," he whispered. The audio was crisp, far too clear for the grainy video quality. "You’re late. The buffer is clearing."