AI WHISPERS
I can almost feel the phantom breath on my neck.
My finger starts to move. Small, tight circles.
"We need to ensure the assets are scalable," a coworker, Greg, says. "Mia, did you upload the vector files?"
Panic flares in my chest. I have to speak.
I keep my finger moving. I can't stop. The friction is grounding, electric.
"Yes," I say, my voice a little higher than usual. "Uploaded them... this morning."
"Good girl," Echo says. "Keep going. Faster."