The power in the café died instantly. In the sudden silence, Viktor heard the heavy hydraulic hiss of the front door locking. From the shadows of the back office, he saw the blue glow of a tablet—and the silhouette of a man who looked exactly like the anchor from the broadcast he was just watching.
"You missed the live show, Viktor," the silhouette said, its voice perfectly modulated. "But we’re happy to give you a private screening." The power in the café died instantly
12:14:03 PM. The news anchor was mid-sentence when the screen flickered. "You missed the live show, Viktor," the silhouette
Suddenly, the video player snapped into existence. The familiar theme music of the news program blared through his cheap headphones. Viktor leaned in, his eyes darting to the timestamp. Suddenly, the video player snapped into existence
The flickering neon sign of the 24-hour internet café was the only thing illuminating the deserted street. Inside, Viktor sat in a booth smelling of stale coffee and ozone. He wasn't there for games; he was looking for a ghost.