Leo turned off the TV. The screen went black. But the reflection staring back at him was not his own.
The Blu-ray box glinted on the coffee table. He noticed something new. On the spine, in tiny, laser-etched text that he’d missed before: Leo turned off the TV
He hadn’t slept in three days.
“Leo. The scorpions aren’t real. They’re silicone. The hunger is a calorie deficit we engineered. The only real thing in that jungle is the camera on you. Always on you.” Leo turned off the TV