The effect was instantaneous. His screen refreshed. An email from a venture partner he'd met once, three years ago, appeared in his inbox: "Jolan—strange timing. We're building a new probability engine. Your name came up. Are you free to talk?"

He didn't force anything. He simply relaxed his fingers, allowed the next breath to come a third of a second later than instinct demanded, and tilted his head one degree left.

Jolan's heart thudded. He turned to page 11 of the PDF on his e-reader. It was black. Pure, unrendered black. No text, no image. He frowned, switched to his laptop, and opened the file there. Still black. Then his tablet. Black.