Leo took a breath. He thought of the original crash. He thought of all the sad songs he’d ever mixed, and how the best sets always had a moment of silence before the bass dropped.

Leo stared. The left deck controlled his past. The right deck, his future. A simple crossfader sat between life and death.

The screech of tires met the first kick drum of his new life. The taste of copper harmonized with the synth pad. The world pixelated, then reformed.

Leo smiled. He wasn’t a passenger anymore. He was the DJ. And for the first time, he was ready to play the set live.

Each correction created feedback. A high-pitched whine would build if two timelines clashed. Once, when he tried to erase a fight with his best friend entirely, the screen went red and the voice snapped, “Silence is not a mix. You need the tension. Without the minor chord, the major one means nothing.”