On his desktop, the icons began to move. The "Recycle Bin" tipped over, spilling deleted documents like digital trash. A small, green, low-poly hand reached out from the edge of the , grabbing a shortcut to a spreadsheet and dragging it into the darkness of the taskbar.

His keyboard clattered of its own accord. One letter at a time, a message appeared in his open Notepad:

The cursor hovered over the button. It was neon green, slightly pixelated, and pulsed with a rhythmic glow that felt uncomfortably like a heartbeat.

The phrase sounds like the exact kind of link that leads to a cursed RPG encounter or a very suspicious piece of indie software .