Selander tapped his fingers against his knees, impatient. It was rare that he was waiting for things, and even rarer that he should have to sit in such an uninspired location.

Here, the sky was overcast, what little breeze there was carried with it the cloying stench of pollen. And the wooden slats of the bench were so carelessly laid so that no matter how Selander squirmed, he couldn’t get comfortable.

And then, of course, it began to rain.

Selander drew his cloak tighter with a curse, for all the good it did him. Why anyone would place a single bench, out from under the cover of foliage when there was more than enough in the park, was beyond him.

But it was essential he didn’t lose his seat.

“Excuse me,” the voice was cold. “May I join you?”

Selander didn’t reply, hoping the bot would just leave him alone.

“May I join you?” the bot repeated, its monotone voice growing all the more insistent.

“No,” Selander snapped, “you may not.” He crossed his arms over his chest for good measure.

There were a few moments where all Selander could hear was the buzz and whir of the boy’s cogs as it processed his reply. Then it seemed to reach a conclusion.

“Anti-social behaviour will not be tolerated.” With that, the bot pushed Selander off the bench in one neat motion.

He’d barely hit the ground before the simulation stopped - the rain frozen in fat drops, never to hit the ground, the leaves of the trees frozen mid-breeze.

Selander huffed and climbed to his feet, his worst fears confirmed.

Someone had hacked the game.