The cursor hovered over the file. It was buried in a folder titled Unsorted_Backup_2022 , sandwiched between a blurry photo of a receipt and a screenshot of a weather app. Elias clicked play.

Elias leaned back. Outside his window, it was a bright spring afternoon in 2026. He looked down at the ginger cat sleeping soundly across his keyboard—four years older, ten pounds heavier, and entirely unaware that his origin story was saved as a string of numbers in a forgotten folder.

The camera pans upward. Through the windshield, the world is a monochromatic wash of gray slush and dark brick. They are parked behind an old industrial bakery. Steam rises from a rooftop vent, swirling into the freezing night air like a phantom.