Chapter 4 - The Digital Interrogation
The red pickup truck roared down the desolate highway, the tires screaming against the worn asphalt as Marcus took a sharp, reckless turn. In the back seat, Clara whimpered, her body shuddering with every bump in the road. Arthur twisted around as far as his seatbelt would allow, his hand resting gently on her clammy shoulder.
“Hang in there, sweetie,” Arthur choked out, his voice thick with unsphed tears. “We’re almost to the county line. The hospital is only ten miles away.”
Up front, the dashboard phone flashed violently, vibrating against its magnetic mount. The comment section was moving at a dizzying speed, thousands of strangers tearing each other apart in real time.
“Check the live chat, old man,” Marcus said, his eyes glued to the rearview mirror. “We’ve got a real controversy brewing. People are starting to ask questions.”
Arthur turned his attention back to the road, refusing to look at the screen. “I don’t care about your viewers. Keep your eyes on the highway.”
“You should care,” Marcus countered, tapping the screen with one finger, forcing a pop-up window to expand. “Some investigative blogger named Sarah Cross just entered the stream. She’s claiming this whole setup is a deepfake stunt to farm engagement for an illegal trafficking ring.”
Arthur’s blood ran cold. He whipped his head around, staring at Marcus in disbelief. “What are you talking about? My daughter is having a medical emergency! This is real!”
“Of course it’s real to you,” Marcus said coldly, weaving recklessly between two semi-trucks. “But to the internet, everything is theater until proven otherwise. And Sarah Cross has half a million followers who believe her. Look at the donation ticker—it just flatlined.”
Clara let out a muffled cry, her fingers digging into the rubber floor mat. “Dad... make it stop hurting. Please.”
Arthur reached over and violently ripped the phone mount off the dashboard, cutting the power cord with a sharp snap. The screen went dark, plunging the cab into an eerie, suffocating silence.
“What the hell did you do?!” Marcus roared, slamming on the brakes. The truck fishtailed dangerously before coming to a screeching halt on the highway shoulder.
“I don’t care about your stream anymore!” Arthur screamed, lunging across the console to grab Marcus by the collar of his dark T-shirt. “Drive my daughter to the hospital right now, or I swear to God I’ll beat you to death with my bare hands!”
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Marcus didn't look scared; a dark, calculating smile spread slowly across his face as he looked down at Arthur’s trembling fists.
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