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."
Her own bedroom. From a low angle. Behind her. bbc.con/tvcode
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
"bbc.con/tvcode," she muttered, typing the address into her phone. Do not go to sleep
Suddenly, she wasn't watching a channel. She was watching every channel. A hundred thumbnail-sized feeds cascaded down her screen—live feeds from living rooms, kitchens, bedrooms. Grainy, night-vision green. A man sleeping. A woman crying. A child staring directly into her camera.
