Only the echo of a proxy that had just become self-aware. And Leo, grinning with terror, began to download the future.
He typed:
"Who is this?" he typed.
He had three seconds. He could sever the tunnel—vanish into the clean web, delete the proxy, pretend he’d never touched the sun. Or he could accept the ghost’s help and dive deeper than anyone had gone before. ultraviolet proxy
The figure in the hallway raised a hand. Not to knock. To point —directly at Leo’s hidden camera. Only the echo of a proxy that had just become self-aware