The cop didn't fight. He didn't have to. He simply pointed his walkie-talkie at the Aggregate and keyed the mic. The feedback wasn't sound—it was a DMCA takedown notice, a copyright claim, a cease-and-desist letter all screaming at once.

Not blood—pixelated red spray, like a low-res texture glitch. From the digital carnage, a figure stepped out. He was a collage: the torso of a Spartan, the gauntlets of a Viking, the shins of a Zande warrior, and the haunted, pixelated eyes of a man who had been simulated to death.

The Aggregate smiled. A katana materialized in its hand, but the blade was a loading bar, stuck at 87%. "Reality is just the highest-resolution simulation. Your bandwidth was sufficient. Now, you must choose."

He should have deleted it. But the completionist in him, the part that had scoured eBay for Blood-Soaked Brawl on VHS, clicked "Download."