It stayed seated, staring at the screen—staring at the empty chair where Leo had been.
The wallpaper version of him didn't.
Leo looked at his real hand. It felt heavy. Slow. Like he was the one running on 2.1.8, and the wallpaper was now on 2.1.9.
Leo waved. The wallpaper version waved back, delayed.
He tried everything. Rollbacks, driver wipes, even a whispered prayer to the RGB gods. Nothing worked.
He clicked.
But when he double-clicked it, his monitor didn't blue-screen. It flickered. The nebula vanished. For a moment, there was nothing—just a pure, deep black.
For three years, WallPaper Engine had been the soul of his rig. His screen had breathed, rippled with rain, and pulsed to his music. But two weeks ago, an automatic update dropped like a stone. Version 2.1.8.