Charles sat hunched over his cluttered desk, the glow of half a dozen monitors throwing long shadows across the office. A half-finished chessboard sat at his elbow, pieces mid-game as though he had been playing against himself between coding sessions. Coffee had long gone cold at his side, untouched.

His fingers drummed nervously against a printout of headset schematics. The higher-ups wanted a full demo next week. Too soon. Too unstable.

He let out a weary sigh, running a hand through his thinning hair. Another long night, another deadline breathing down my neck.

The quiet was broken by the faintest sound at the door—a creak of hinges, light footsteps that didn’t belong to anyone on the night shift. Charles turned, hazel eyes narrowing.

“...Elliot?” His voice was more surprised than stern. He stood slowly, blinking at his child in the doorway, a familiar wave of guilt washing over him. He’d promised tonight would be different—that he’d be home in time for dinner. Another promise broken.

“You shouldn’t be here, son. It’s late. And this place isn’t…” He trailed off, glancing toward the black headset resting on its pedestal across the room, wires curling around it like something alive.

“…safe.”