React: Remark

He tried to call his supervisor. Voicemail.

Leo’s blood turned to slurry. He refreshed. The video was gone. No record. No flag. Nothing. He sat there for an hour, staring at the gray void of his empty queue. remark react

Not a normal blink. A slow, deliberate one-two-three pattern. S.O.S. Leo’s coffee cup stopped halfway to his lips. He leaned in. The man did it again. Blink. Blink-blink. Blink. S.O.S. He tried to call his supervisor

The next night, he searched for the user profile: @last_remark. It was still active. The only post was a single line of text, timestamped 2:18 AM—one minute after his decision. He refreshed

He was moderating his own existence.

Leo’s finger hovered. He glanced at the protocol manual taped to his monitor: Do not engage. Do not interpret. Classify and move.

The last one Leo saw before his shift ended read: “Don’t worry. When you press REMARK on me again, I’ll finally have company.”