Chapter Two: Tenants of the Body

Falcon cursed. Gu pulled the cable, opened the door, and ran into the stairwell. He lived on forty-seven. The elevator had stopped at the emergency floor with its doors ajar, its panel reduced to physical buttons. He pressed one. As the doors closed, a pale hand entered the gap. Gu recoiled into the car. The doors opened again. No one stood outside. His own right hand remained between them—a visual delay had made it appear to belong to someone else. “The reality-rendering layer has been altered.” “Your sensory prediction has forked,” White Elm corrected. “The outer world is intact. Your brain no longer knows which input to trust.”