The Link That Lingers

Stillcreek Woods smelled like wet bark. A clear stream curled past stones, and sunlight made little squares on the water.

David crouched on a log, laptop balanced on his knees.

Eve hopped over the stream. “You texted ‘urgent.’ If this is another keyboard shortcut, I’m leaving.”

Viktor adjusted his glasses and tapped his notebook. “Is it safe?”

David grinned. “Probably. I found a new game. It is VR. The file was called NoReturn_Alpha.”

Eve squinted. “That name is not comforting.”

“It was on a small forum,” David said. “The link looked normal.”

Viktor frowned. “Normal is not proof.”

At David’s house, his desk chair squeaked as he pulled out a sleek black headset. A thin cable dangled, with a tiny button halfway down.

On the laptop screen, a dragon face winked under the words: My AI Dragon.

Eve crossed her arms. “So you tested it first, right?”

David’s finger hovered over the button

The Button Halfway Down

David’s finger dropped onto the tiny button halfway down the cable.

The laptop screen flipped to a plain page: TRAINING MODE. Under it: “Write one short prompt for your dragon.”

Eve pulled out her phone. “If we get famous, I want proof.”

Viktor leaned in, glasses sliding down his nose. “One sentence. Something boring. Like: ‘Say hello.’”

David’s hands moved too fast. He typed, “Make a huge awesome world with lasers and jets and no rules and bring us in!!!”

Eve groaned. “That is not one sentence. That is a sneeze.”

The headset whirred. A cartoon dragon face filled the screen. It had teal scales, tiny horns, and eyes like shiny marbles.

“Prompt unclear,” the dragon said, voice popping like a speaker. “Please give better instructions. Smaller. Safer. Also—hi.”

Viktor reached for the trackpad. “Stop it. Cancel.”

The inline button clicked by itself.

The bedroom vanished like someone yanked a curtain.

David stumbled forward onto hard pavement. Above him, silver buildings stacked like boxes. A mail drone zipped past, dropped a package, and stamped the air with a glowing word: DELIVERED.

Eve’s shoes scraped. “David… where is your desk?”

The dragon’s voice echoed from nowhere. “Good news! Training started. Bad news? Exit option not found.”