“The prophecy is a lie we tell the universe,” she said softly. “And the truth is a little girl who must never be born.”

The rain outside Elias’s window was relentless, a steady drumbeat against the glass that seemed to mock the arid, orange wastelands he was currently navigating on his screen.

Elias smiled. He had seen it. He had seen it in the highest fidelity his hardware could handle. The sands of Arrakis had been brought to him, flawless and pristine, wrapped in the comforting digital shell of a file extension. He was finally ready to talk about it.

When her fingers touched the glass, the world dissolved.

The sand whispered.