Note 11/19/2022 11:48:51 Am - Online Notepad Page
The AI attendance system provides numerous advantages that greatly improve conventional attendance tracking approaches.
Elias didn't turn around. He didn't have to. The chill on the back of his neck told him that the note was no longer online. It was in the room.
He turned back to the kitchen. The microwave was no longer reflecting the room. It was showing a live feed of the notepad. And on that digital screen, a new line appeared: “Turn around. I’m finished typing.” The microwave timer let out a sharp, piercing BEEP . Note 11/19/2022 11:48:51 AM - Online Notepad
He reached the counter. The microwave’s glass surface was polished, acting as a perfect, dark mirror of the room behind him. He could see the edge of his unmade bed, the pile of laundry in the corner, and the back of his own head. Then he noticed the discrepancy. In the reflection, the laptop on his desk was closed. Elias didn't turn around
Elias froze. He looked back over his shoulder. The laptop was definitely open, the bright white screen of the notepad illuminating the wall. He looked back at the microwave. It was in the room
Elias grabbed the laptop to slam it shut, but the screen stayed upright, locked by an invisible force. The timestamp on the notepad began to count upward, faster and faster, blurring into a strobe light of digits.
In the mirror-world of the kitchen, a figure was standing directly behind him. It wasn't Sarah. It was a tall, blurred shape with fingers like frayed rope, reaching out toward his reflected neck.
Elias didn't turn around. He didn't have to. The chill on the back of his neck told him that the note was no longer online. It was in the room.
He turned back to the kitchen. The microwave was no longer reflecting the room. It was showing a live feed of the notepad. And on that digital screen, a new line appeared: “Turn around. I’m finished typing.” The microwave timer let out a sharp, piercing BEEP .
He reached the counter. The microwave’s glass surface was polished, acting as a perfect, dark mirror of the room behind him. He could see the edge of his unmade bed, the pile of laundry in the corner, and the back of his own head. Then he noticed the discrepancy. In the reflection, the laptop on his desk was closed.
Elias froze. He looked back over his shoulder. The laptop was definitely open, the bright white screen of the notepad illuminating the wall. He looked back at the microwave.
Elias grabbed the laptop to slam it shut, but the screen stayed upright, locked by an invisible force. The timestamp on the notepad began to count upward, faster and faster, blurring into a strobe light of digits.
In the mirror-world of the kitchen, a figure was standing directly behind him. It wasn't Sarah. It was a tall, blurred shape with fingers like frayed rope, reaching out toward his reflected neck.
