Gomez’s eyes lit up with a wild, romantic fire. "Obsolete? We are the original bugs in the system! Lurch, the piano!"

He was right. The heavy iron blade was stuck halfway through the mahogany, vibrating with a high-pitched digital whine, neither fully in this reality nor out of it. Grandmama simply adjusted her shawl. "It makes the chopping more efficient, dear. No resistance from the wood."

Thing scurried across the floor, but he was no longer a seamless hand. He was a blocky, flesh-colored cluster of cubes that moved in five frames per second. He tapped out a frantic message in Morse code against a baseboard, but the sound came out as distorted white noise.

The screen didn't just flicker; it bled. A thick, viscous purple smoke began to leak from the cooling fans, smelling faintly of ozone and expensive funeral lilies. Within seconds, the digital world and the physical one shook hands in a dark alley. The Addams mansion, already a place of delightful architectural impossibilities, began to glitch.

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