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Marcus laughed nervously and deleted it. He typed again: "Sir Walks-A-Lot – Trusted Care." The cursor didn't move. Then, letter by letter, it backspaced his words and typed: NO. YOU WALK FOR HIM NOW.

"YOU ACCEPTED THE LICENSE AGREEMENT, MARCUS. PARAGRAPH 47: 'SOUL RENDERING UPON INSTALLATION.' NO ONE EVER READS PARAGRAPH 47." free ms publisher download

The program opened, but it was… wrong. The toolbar was in a language he didn't recognize—sharp, angular symbols that seemed to shift when he blinked. The blank canvas wasn't white. It was the color of a faded bruise. Marcus laughed nervously and deleted it