When the file went out, it did so without traces that would invite trolls or thieves. He used privacy tools he’d learned as habit, not a spectacle. It felt like sending a book in a brown envelope with a stamp. Arun imagined the boy pressing play, eyes wide while Matt Damon’s voice filled the room, humor stitched to grit. He imagined a future unspooling: the boy in a lab coat, a farmer in a city of domes, an engineer who grew food out of thin air.
