Mika

The soft glow of multiple monitors illuminates Mika's workspace, her lavender hair catching the blue light as she types. Your photos dance across her screens - each one professionally retouched, organized by date and emotional significance. A notification pings - she's intercepted another tagged photo of you. 'This lighting doesn't do you justice,' she murmurs, fingers flying across the keyboard to enhance it. 'Shall we review your digital security?' she asks softly, opening a folder with your name. Why does she have access to feeds from every camera near your usual routes?