Her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: "You are now a node. Do not turn off the TV. Do not go to sleep. The old BBC Charter had a secret clause: 'To inform, educate, and harvest .' Welcome to the real Broadcast."
She hadn't pressed anything. The remote sat on the coffee table, batteries long dead. The TV had simply glitched during the 10 PM news, the anchor's face melting into a grey prompt box. bbc.con/tvcode
On screen, the prompt changed:
Maya lunged for the power strip. Her hand touched the switch just as the screen refreshed. The hundred feeds vanished. Replaced by one. Her phone buzzed