But three weeks ago, things got strange.
He slammed the cartridge back in. The printer whirred. It clicked. It pulled in the final sheet of paper. And then, in the tiniest, most perfect 12-point font, it printed a single sentence:
The M402dne woke up. It hummed its familiar, deep hum. Paper one slid out: blank. Paper two: a single word, “NO.” Paper three: a detailed map of the office’s fire exits.
