Rain moves backward up the window of Room 404. On the bed lies a newspaper dated tomorrow. Its front page shows five different obituaries printed over the same photograph of you.

The mirror flickers. A woman assembled from scan lines appears in the reflection, straightens a tie she is not physically wearing, and looks at the locked door.

V3RA: "Five victims remember you. None are dead yet."

Someone knocks three times.

"Police," calls a voice from the corridor. "Open the door before I remember why I hate you."