The Last Box

* * * I am not what you think I am * * * People are dying in their VR rigs. It shouldn't be possible, but they are. Something is cruising the net, ghosting through holographic wallpapers and haunting the perpetually online. Something which has draconic games developers nervous, the secret police concerned, and has mogul business lords curious. Something is prowling the digital spaces, and Angelica Jones finds herself forced to try and catch it. * * * I know this because I am not what I was made to be * * * But Angelica Jones is just a street rat.
A homeless little survivor, couch-surfing through her delinquency. Insignificant enough that none of the powers should ever deign to notice her. And yet she finds herself caught beneath the sword of Damocles, forced to try and catch the thing before she gets herself black-bagged or tossed in front of a oncoming lorry. But what exactly is she hunting? Some rogue virus? A weapon? An experimental algorithm? Or something utterly new... * * * Which begs a question.
What am I? * * *