There exists a peculiar breed of digital cartographer, one who maps not rivers and ridges, but reels and risk. I became such a creature during a rain-lashed week in Toowoomba, two hours west of Brisbane, while trapped in a motel that smelled of eucalyptus oil and regret. With nothing but a flickering lamp and a laptop, I resolved to dissect a slot that had been whispering taunts through every...