He went to delete the folder, but the 7z file was gone. In its place was a new file, growing in size by the second: RealTime_Observation_Log.txt .
The puppet didn't stop. It began to pace the grid of the 3D space, its movements becoming frantic, searching. It tapped on the virtual walls of the viewport, and for a second, Elias could swear he heard a faint, rhythmic thumping coming from his own speakers.
The "RealTime" in the file name wasn't a technical spec—it was a warning. The archive contained an AI-driven animation layer that mapped the user's own physical presence through the screen. When Elias leaned left, the digital puppet mirrored him with uncanny, fluid precision, its joints rotating with a grace no human animator could ever keyframe by hand. But then, Elias sat perfectly still.
He loaded the first asset into his viewport. It was a humanoid figure, but it didn't wait for a "Play" command. The moment the software initialized, the figure’s head snapped toward the camera. Elias froze. His webcam’s green light flickered on. The animation wasn't a loop; it was a response.
