Leo wasn’t a pirate by nature, but nostalgia is a powerful drug. He remembered the summer of 2007—the smell of chalk dust in his uncle’s garage and the digital clack of virtual balls on his old console. He wanted that feeling back, and he wanted it tonight.

He looked back at the screen. The cue ball hadn't hit a rail. It was simply rolling toward the edge of the screen, farther than the table should have allowed. It kept rolling until it vanished into the black border of the window.

As the file finished, Leo’s antivirus flared up like a frantic guard dog. Threat detected. He ignored it, his finger hovering over the ‘Run’ command. He told himself it was just a false positive—common for old software. He hit Enter. The screen went black.

A text box appeared at the bottom of the screen, the font jagged and white: