She typed it. The disk drive whirred. Suddenly, the screen split into four quadrants, each showing a different black-and-white surveillance feed of her own house — from angles no camera existed.

Curious, she loaded it into her Commodore 64. The screen flickered, then displayed a simple prompt: > RUN MISS AX

In the winter of 1987, Lena found a dusty 5.25-inch floppy disk in her late uncle’s attic. On the label, handwritten in fading ink: MISS AX.PRG .