Arthur woke up to a soft hum. He looked at the free TV and saw not a show, but a perfect, high-definition reflection of his living room. He saw his sofa, his coffee table, and the first TV playing its silent fish movie.
The neon sign in the window of "Bernie’s Bargain Bin" screamed in a flickering electric blue:
He scrambled out of bed and sprinted to the lounge. The room was empty. The first TV was off. But when he looked at the screen, he saw his own reflection—except his reflection was sitting on the sofa he had just walked past, waving a remote. Arthur turned around. The sofa was empty.
He set the first one up in the living room. It was perfect. Crystal clear. But when he unboxed the "free" unit for the bedroom, he realized something was off. It had no power cord. No remote port. Just a smooth, black glass face that looked less like a screen and more like a pool of ink.
Arthur felt a cold breeze. He looked down at his hands. They were starting to flicker into pixels. Behind him, the "free" Arthur stepped out from behind the bedroom door, holding a remote, and pressed .
Then, on the bedroom screen, he watched a shadowy figure walk across his living room.