He realized he wasn't just watching a collection. He was the newest entry.
He reached for the power button, but his hand appeared on the screen a split second before he moved it in real life. The file name at the top of his window flickered and changed: The upload had begun.
"Version 524 complete," the voice whispered. "Awaiting observer for Version 525."
Elias saw the back of a man’s head. He saw the glowing screen the man was staring at.
When Elias double-clicked the file, his media player stuttered. The timestamp read . No end.
As he reached the second hour, the content shifted. The static cleared entirely, replaced by high-definition footage that shouldn’t have existed when the file was supposedly created. He saw a drone-view of a city he didn't recognize—architecture that looked like folded glass. He saw people in the streets looking up at the sky, their faces frozen in a synchronized expression of realization.
Elias tried to scrub the timeline forward, but the cursor wouldn’t move. The file seemed to be generating itself as he watched.