Artyom paused, his pen hovering over the paper. He looked at the next page in the PDF. It was a photo of the "Photosynthesis" section, but the diagrams were wrong. Instead of sunlight hitting a leaf, the drawing showed a shadowy figure standing over a sleeping boy. The label didn't say Chloroplast . It said Witness .
Suddenly, a notification popped up at the bottom of the screen. It wasn't an ad. It was a chat box from a user named V.V. Pasechnik . "Is the homework finished, Artyom?" the message asked. Artyom paused, his pen hovering over the paper
A cold draft swept through the room. Artyom tried to close the PDF, but the mouse cursor wouldn't move. The screen flickered. The purple ink on the screen began to bleed, dripping down the digital page like fresh juice. Instead of sunlight hitting a leaf, the drawing
The next morning, Artyom’s mother found the room empty. The computer was off. On the desk sat the biology workbook, completed in beautiful, slanted handwriting. Suddenly, a notification popped up at the bottom
The monitor flared with a blinding white light. Artyom tried to scream, but his throat was filled with the sudden, rapid growth of moss. On the desk, the blank workbook began to fill itself in. Purple ink blossomed across the pages, describing in perfect detail the cellular structure of the boy who had tried to find a shortcut.