Marco froze. His radio wasn't even programmed yet. It couldn't receive anything.
His own fault. He’d procrastinated. The annual comms reconfiguration was due at midnight, and his ancient laptop had chosen today to blue-screen into oblivion. The new laptop was sleek, powerful, and utterly useless—it didn’t have the programming software.
UPLOAD COMPLETE. VOICE CHANNEL 0 ACTIVATED. MODE: PRECOGNITION.
He looked at the dash clock. 5:52 PM. He looked at the footprints. They were his own bootprints—from a future that hadn't happened yet.
