Weird. But not a crisis. He had spreadsheets to drown in.

He had a choice. He could unplug the machine. He could walk away from the texture.

And from the speaker grilles of every PC on the floor, a warm, dusty breeze began to blow.

His first click was on the Chrome icon. As his finger pressed the left mouse button, he felt it. A tiny, precise vibration, like plucking a taut rubber band. And the response was immediate: a satisfying, hollow thock . The browser window didn't just appear; it landed , settling onto the desktop with the gentle finality of a chess piece.