Hager’s hands trembled—not from fear, but from the electric thrill of possibility. He pulled out his toolbox.
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In the cluttered, dimly lit corner of a basement gaming den, eighteen-year-old Hager slammed his fist on the desk. His current PC, a relic from the Obama administration, had just blue-screened for the third time that hour. Hager’s hands trembled—not from fear, but from the
“Okay,” he said, grinning. “Let’s download this reality.” Hager’s hands trembled—not from fear