Elias finally looked at the window to his left. The glass was dark, reflecting only his pale face and the monitors behind him. But as he watched, a small, glowing cursor appeared on the glass itself. It began to type, etching letters into the condensation of his breath.
The figure in the photo wasn't a person. It was a shimmering distortion, a glitch in the reality of the lens.
He opened the text file first. It contained one line: “If you are reading this, the silence has already begun. Look at the window, not the screen.”