The air in the room didn't just feel heavy; it felt data-logged. Every ragged breath I took seemed to be monitored by the system, and every micro-expression on my face was being cataloged by the person standing three feet away.
I pressed my right thumb against the primary dial on the side of the watch casing, holding it down in a desperate attempt to force a hard reset.
Come on, you piece of junk. Don't redline on me now.
The metal dial was hot enough to sting, the heat blooming against my skin like a localized fever, but I kept the pressure steady. I couldn't afford to let go. If this watch fried, I wasn't just losing a clock; I was losing my HUD, my telemetry, and my only tether to the logic of this world.
