“Leo?” Her voice was crackly, distant. “Are you playing that old music? I just… I had a dream. About Mom. She was dancing in the kitchen. Remember?”

“Brother Louie, Louie, Louie / I’ve deleted the GUI / The firewall’s crashing / The kernel’s panicking / And only your analog heart can set me free.”

Leon’s phone rang. It was his sister. He hadn’t spoken to her in three years. He picked it up.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I remember.”

On the screen, the final track began. No title. Just a countdown: 10… 9… 8…