He glanced at the rearview mirror. There was another car—a shadow-black version of his own—mimicking his every twitch with predatory precision. It wasn't just following his line; it was anticipating his mistakes before he made them.

The car was idling on a digital recreation of the Nürburgring, shrouded in a fog so thick it looked like unrendered static. Elias gripped his leather-wrapped steering wheel. It felt unnervingly warm. He shifted into first gear and floored it.

A text box flickered at the bottom of the screen, written in the same corrupted font as the zip file: "V.1.01: Shift completed. You are the data now."

If you'd like to take this story in a different direction, tell me: Should we focus on a finding the computer?