Behind the TV-Elara, in the reflection of the mirror on her wall, there was a shape. Taller than a person should be, its head brushing the ceiling, its limbs too long, its edges bleeding into the shadows. It was standing exactly where the real wardrobe stood.
The ticker changed.
She stared at the dead black glass of the M6, waiting for it to come back, to tell her what to do next. But it stayed dark. She was alone now. Direct had been cut. And the thing in the wardrobe was learning to move in real time. Tv M6 Direct
The TV-Elara's lips moved, but no sound came from the set. Instead, a single line of white text scrolled across the bottom, like a news ticker. Behind the TV-Elara, in the reflection of the