A cold sweat broke out on his neck. He tried to move his mouse to close the window, but the cursor was gone. The top was spinning faster now, emitting a high-pitched whine that made his ears bleed.
On the screen, the "digital" version of Leo turned around. It wasn't a character model; it was a live feed. The digital Leo looked directly into the camera and mouthed three words: Don't let it stop.
At first, it was just a physics demo. The top hummed with a realistic, low-frequency vibration that Leo could feel in his desk. But as it spun, the background of the game began to change. The mahogany table stayed, but the room around it started to match Leo’s own bedroom. He saw his messy bookshelf, his posters, and eventually, the back of his own head sitting in his chair.
He launched it. His monitor flickered, then settled on a high-definition 3D render of a Victorian-era spinning top sitting on a mahogany table. There were no instructions, just a prompt: Click to spin. He clicked. The top began to whirl.