"Elias?" Julian whispered. "You shouldn't be here. This is the incubator."

"Julian?" Elias rushed forward.

"Mr. Thorne," Vane said, stepping into the blue light. "Your brother is a pioneer. We used to hire writers to create. Now we hire writers to curate the output of the Engine. Julian has a high 'Empathy Score.' The machine can’t replicate genuine human pain, but it can simulate it if we give it the right... ingredients."

"It’s entertainment ," a new voice boomed.

"I'm taking him," Elias said, grabbing Julian’s arm to pull him from the chair.

Elias walked toward the parking garage, but he paused. He took the envelope, tore it open, and pulled out a small USB drive he had tucked inside—a backup of Julian’s old work, the raw, unpolished scripts Julian had written before PESP.