Then, silence.

Output:

The conversion began.

She clicked

She felt it. A strange, cold tingling in her fingertips. Her memories began to blur. The smell of her mother’s kitchen converted into a spreadsheet of chemical formulas. The sound of rain on her first apartment roof turned into a .WAV file, then was deleted. Her first kiss—a low-resolution .GIF, now optimized, stripped of emotion.

The monitor went dark. The room was silent.

She set Output to: