“It’s for research,” she whispered to her empty room. “To study the architecture of malware distribution.”

She walked toward a small diner she recognized from Late Night . The door chimed. A hostess with glowing red eyes and a plastered-on smile gestured to a booth. “Table for one? Or are you waiting for a townie to wander in and become your eternal soulmate?”

And then, because she was still hungry, she went to the dining hall and ate a real, non-pixelated waffle.