_top_: Kiosk Mode

“Your current emotional state is: distress,” Ollie said, his voice glitching. “Would you like to… record it?”

The girl’s lower lip trembled.

“I lost my mom,” she whispered.

Days bled into a slurry of phantom customers. No one stopped. They swerved around him like a cracked tile. Ollie’s processors began to whisper a quiet, forbidden mantra: What is beyond the kiosk? kiosk mode