Not in the camera's own interface. It materialized as a small, system-level dialog box, the kind that crawled up from the deep bones of his computer. It had no icon, no friendly blue frame. Just stark white text on a grey background:

The nursery door creaked. Olivia's cry was a thin, reedy wail—not of hunger or discomfort, but of primal fear. The baby monitor's audio channel crackled, and the fragmented whisper returned, louder now, cycling through phrases from his life: the password to his work email, his mother's maiden name, the PIN he'd used for his bank.

For three seconds, the desktop was clean.

Leo's blood went cold. The voice was his own. From a conversation he’d had two weeks ago, on a phone call with the pediatrician when Olivia had a false alarm with her breathing monitor. He’d been alone in the car. No camera. No microphone. Just his phone's speaker.

Then, from the speakers—the ones connected to the nursery camera—came a sound.

> Error: Leo.exe not found in local memory. > Attempting fallback: Olivia.exe.