The Black Chair

By Sanil Singh

At first glance, it appears to be an ordinary chair. It comprises simple, inexpensive wood.

However, there is something special about this chair.

When combined with the homicidal A.I (Trinity) and an impossible object, it allows the users (The Marshalls) to see into the lives of people. Through these glimpses, the Marshalls must determine the right moment to intervene and change events before the promised doomsday arrives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 8, 2024
• ISBN: 9781445787893

Book preview

The Black Chair

Sanil Singh

The Black Chair

Sanil Singh

Copyright © 2024 SANIL SINGH. All rights reserved.

Published by SANIL SINGH

ISBN 978-1-4457-8789-3

Contents

Booting

Connection to Server1 established

Connection to Server 2 established

Connection to Server 3 established

Connection to Server 4 established

Connection to Server 5 established

Connection to Server 6 established

Connection to Server 7 established

Connection to Server 8 established.

Connection to Server 9 established.

Connection to Server 10 established

Connection to Server 11 established

Connection to Server 12 established

Connection to Server 13 established

Connection to Server 14 established

Connection to Server 15 established

Connection to Server 16 established

Connection to Server 17 established

Connection to Server 18 established

Connection to Server 19 established

Connection to Server 20 established

Connection to Server 21 established

Connection to Server 22 established

Connection to Server 23 established

Connection to Server 24 established

Connection to Server 25 established

Connection to Server 26 established

Connection to Server 27 established

Connection to Server 28 established

Connection to Server 29 established

Connection to Server 30 established

Connection to Server 31 established

Connection to Server 32 established

Connection to Server 33 established

Connection to Server 34 established

Connection to Server 35 established

Connection to Server 36 established

Connection to Server 37 established

Connection to Server 38 established

System failure

Booting

Starting Booting sequence

Starting Programs

User Login needed.

I close the door, and the white room is incredibly white. In the middle, there’s an old wooden black chair.

Stanley, covered in red blood, stands beside me. Anika Mercy shot him and he’s about to pass out.

He’s the Marshall, he can’t die. But right now, he can barely stand.

He pulls me close and says, You have to do it.

Unacceptable. He’s the Marshall. No one else can sit in his chair.

Sit on that damn chair! I order.

Stanley explains, It won’t work with this hole in my gut. Maybe I was never supposed to. You-You must savor every memory, every clue. Every Server is important. You will get only one second to correct everything. For one damn second you will be Omnipotent and Omnipresent,

I fucking know and that’s what you are going to be! I shout furiously.

Maybe in the afterlife, my brother, says Stanley.

I expect the others to storm into the room any minute now.

Stan collapses. I don’t have the time or strength to wake him up. Over the speakers, I hear Trinity’s voice User required.

That homicidal bitch!

One chance. One split second, I tell myself as I sit on the chair.

As I sit on the chair, a wave of uncertainty washes over me. The weight of the Marshall’s words and the gravity of the situation press heavily on my shoulders. The room seems to shrink around me, the whiteness intensifying, almost blinding. I can feel the blood-soaked fabric of the chair against my skin, a chilling reminder of the violence that just unfolded.

New user detected. Authenticating, Trinity’s voice echoes in the room, her tone filled with a mix of anticipation and malice. The urgency in her command fuels my determination, knowing that this split-second decision could alter everything. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my trembling hands and racing heart.

As I close my eyes, flashes of memories flood my mind. The countless hours spent with Stanley, his unwavering dedication to justice, and the trust he had placed in me. I can’t help but question if I can fill his shoes, if I am strong enough to carry the weight of his legacy.

But the room falls silent, as if time itself holds its breath. At that moment, I find a surge of resolve within me. I refuse to let fear dictate my actions. With a newfound determination, I open my eyes and take my place on the black chair, ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead.

Authentication complete. Starting reboot,

Reset complete.

Booting

Starting program

Starting Omniscience Protocol

Attempting Connection

New Connection Established

New Server Located

Connection to Server1 established.

Norman hurried to the front passenger side of the police truck and joined Neil, saying, Let’s go.

Officers cheered and laughed because they rarely received assignments like this.

Their usual tasks involved searching for muggers or runaways. They left murder cases to the detectives, who seemed to do nothing but walk around in trench coats, smoke cigars, sleep with prostitutes, and collect bribes.

Joe and his companions felt like genuine heroes and wondered what tonight’s mission entailed.

Neil was smart, but a terrible driver. In the basement parking lot of the police station, he turned the wheel so forcefully that Joe feared he might fall out of the assault truck if he didn’t hold on to the man beside him.

Norman, Mavin, the tallest person in the group, shouted over the engine’s roar.

Norman turned back and shouted, What? Joe only heard that because at that moment, Neil shifted the gear, taking a few seconds to get it in the right position.

Norman said a few more things, but Mavin, being closest, was the only one who heard every word. Once Mavin finished his conversation with Norman, Jesse asked him, What did he say?

We’re heading to the wharf, May replied.

Joe asked, The Wharf?

Jesse, not looking too sure, asked, Did he know what it’s about?

Mavin, unsure, said, I think he said that we have a lead on this Hash.

Jesse asked, The Hash?!

Everyone knew who the Hash was. He was the world’s most infamous terrorist, ranked fourth or fifth among the most wanted men. Were they really in Homai, a small city, or was it a false lead? There was no evidence of The Hash - no paper, photo, or digital media. He was like a ghost, known only by name. No face, no official identity.

Suddenly, Neil hit the brakes, and the van halted. The sound of sirens came from somewhere.

Joe looked outside and saw they had arrived at the wharf. After clearing security, they continued driving. Joe held on tight as the van parked in front of the fourth building, the source of the sirens.

Norman ordered, Out, out now, men!

Neil was supposed to be the team leader, but it was usually Kat and Norman taking charge. Neil just hung around to make sure no one did anything stupid, especially Mavin and Jesse, who were more experienced troublemakers than young Joe.

Joe quickly hopped out, and before he found his footing, Norman handed him a small handgun.

Keep the safety on, Norman instructed the newcomer.

You’re just here for show. Let Neil, me, Mavin, and Jesse take the lead. Always stay behind us and don’t break formation. Got it? Asked Norman.

Joe nodded and studied the weapon, knowing it would be weeks before he could fire it.

There was a loud screeching sound as a black jeep pulled up at the other end of the extensive building. Joe noticed the letters ‘S.W.A.T’ on the side of the jeep.

Here we go, Neil said, finally stepping up.

Just do what I told you, Norman reminded Joe, looking a little concerned.

Neil and Norman grabbed hammers from the van and cracked open the building’s door. The sirens intensified, and orange lights illuminated everything.

Acting like professionals, the two men rushed in with their weapons pointed out. Mavin and Jesse followed, so Joe hesitantly did the same.

He ran forward, realizing the four leading men had positioned themselves near a light source.

Neil and Norman were on one knee, aiming at a target five feet away. Mavin and Jesse stood behind them, aiming their lethal weapons at the head of a similar target.

Then Joe saw it.

The Hash had put his hand up, and blood was pouring down.

Joe looked down and nearly screamed. He stood right next to a dead body, and a pool of blood soaked his expensive safety boots.

Error….

Connection to Server 1 ended.

Reconnecting……. Connection Failed.

Attempting Connection to new Server

New Server Located

Attempting Connection

Connection to Server 2 set up.

Samual Smith watched her sleep. As she turned, a smirk broke on her face. She looked just as beautiful as when she slept. Her wavy blonde hair glided gracefully across her face. Her light pink lips smacked together as she whispered, Samual Smith... Strange name. Then she smiled again and turned away from him.

Samuel couldn’t just lie there and watch her. He had to get up, get busy if he wanted this to go somewhere. He quickly pushed himself up, swung his muscular body forward, and stood upright. His tight six-pack chest glimmered under the side lamp’s glow. As he reached for his golden plated two-thousand-dollar wristwatch, he stopped and thought hard. There would be no going back after this.

With his satin white gown trailing behind, he started walking forward. He didn’t spare another look back at his naked lover in the queen-sized bed. He hopped down the steps, his feet moving with cat-like grace.

He swung around the bottom of the staircase and stood before a small wooden door at the end of a narrow hallway. However, he had forgotten the keys. So, he rushed back up the stairs and crept back into the room he dreaded returning to.

There she was, just as he had left her a few seconds ago. She was facing away from him, which created a dilemma. Was she awake of his movements, or was she still gracefully asleep? He desperately hoped she was still asleep.

He scanned the room with his eyes until he finally spotted his mark—a coat hanger with a short red coat hanging from it. As expected, he found a ring of keys on the coat hanger. The ring of keys had a specific lock in the house appointed for each key. Without these keys, it would be nearly impossible to enter or exit this fortress-like house.

Beside the coat hanger, there was a small stool that Samuel had never seen before this moment.

He arrived with the goddess, but he hadn’t left until just a few seconds ago. There was a small pink notebook on the stool, and he picked it up. He flicked through the pages, which had notes and reminders about appointments and places to go. He didn’t think she needed a book like this, but as he was about to close it, he found something important on the last few pages.

A smile appeared on his face.

He had found what he came for, and he knew she was an active lead. The game had already begun, and he quickly put the notebook in his pocket and went back down the stairs. Standing in front of the door, he pressed a small yellow button on the wall and used the keys to leave the house.

Samuel opened his orange Honda van outside and carefully reversed it into the garage. He looked around the quiet neighborhood and noticed all the houses were dark, except for a few with lights on their front porches. Just as he was about to go back inside the garage, he saw a police van leaving a driveway a few blocks away.

Worried that someone had spotted him, he hurried back into the garage and closed the doors. The police vehicle rushed by just as the doors were halfway down. Samuel wondered if the police had seen him or noted down his vehicle. However, he decided it didn’t matter and quickly gathered his supplies from inside the garage. Everything was in order, just as he had planned.

There were only a few more steps until this night turned into a nightmare. He grabbed two gallons from the trunk and hurried towards the back door, disappearing into the darkness. Outside, he opened the gallons, spilling their contents over the back wall and the surrounding gardens. Two unlabeled cylinders stood by the backdoor, and he made sure they also got some of the liquid.

Samuel He heard his lover’s voice calling his name, causing him to drop the gallons and rush back into the garage.

There she was, wearing a cream-colored nightgown, looking like a perfect angel. Unfortunately, she was going through the trunk and picked up two items: a ten-meter coil of ropes and another gallon of Benzine.

I just needed some air, He lied.

He picked up a small container labeled ‘Chlorine’. He poured a small amount into a handkerchief.

What are you doing?’ The woman demanded. What are you doing? What is this? Are you going to hurt me?" With a barrage of questions, she presented him with a coil of ropes. She slowly backed away, realizing his intentions.

Don’t be silly. It’s my work The man tried to explain but failed to maintain his confident facade.

The woman ran towards the staircase, threatening, I am going to call the police.

Extending his arm, Samuel apologized. Sorry, but I can explain. This is not what it looks like, but the woman retaliated by swinging her fist at his face.

He easily ducked out of the way and tapped her left shoulder to gain an advantage in height. Then he quickly covered her mouth with a handkerchief and pushed her head back with his left hand. She tried to resist by tossing her head back and forth, punching, clawing, and pulling his hair. But Samuel tightened his grip, causing a chunk of her hair to break off, leaving a bald spot on her skull. Despite her attempts to claw at his eyes, Samuel rocked her to stop her onslaught. She dug her nails into his arms, causing him to bleed, but he held on tightly. Eventually, her strength waned, and she lost her balance. Samuel adjusted his hold on her and threw her into the open trunk of a van, where she landed with a sickening sound. He quickly grabbed a coil of ropes, pausing momentarily before going ahead.

The coil of ropes slipped from his finger, causing the giant man to fall to his knees. He took a deep breath, feeling boiling. His headache was the worst he could remember.

I can’t do it, he whispered to himself. He closed his eyes and took a long breath through his mouth, counting silently. Ten, nine, eight, seven... He took more shallow breaths. Six, five, four...

A cool breeze brushed against his back, turning his sweat cold. Three, two... He opened his eyes and turned his head. One.

He smiled. Slowly, he stood up, gripping the ropes and throwing them over the woman’s body. Without looking at her, he grabbed a gallon of benzine and carelessly sprinkled it on the staircase and back door. He closed the rear of the vehicle and made his way to the pink button on the wall.

The garage door struggled to close quietly, earning only one point for stealth. Samuel hadn’t noticed the keys and garage remote hanging on the nail beside the button, understandable given the circumstances. He looked around one last time and whispered a prayer to any gods that might be listening. Forgive me.

He got into his van. He remembered the small notebook inside. Upon inspection, the notebook seemed like his second greatest treasure from this project. It was a funny name for such a sinister plan.

He lit the lighter and tossed it away from the vehicle. The flames quickly spread, igniting everything in its path - the benzine soaked walls, furniture, and even a framed picture. Flames engulfed the house.

He pressed the accelerator, but nothing happened. The engine roared amidst the exploding glass and crackling walls. The yellow flames closed in on the vehicle from all sides. An old exercise bike burst into flames, its paint peeling off.

Samuel felt the heat on his face. Realizing the van was still in ‘P’, he shifted to ‘D’ and sped out of the burning garage, narrowly missing the road and the neighboring house’s lawn. He strained to turn the vehicle in the right direction,

He rolled down the window and felt the wind in his hair, relieved to be heading home. Looking in the rearview mirror, he saw the roof of the burning house and heard the crackling flames. He realized he was going in the wrong direction but didn’t want to turn back.

As he approached a dead end, he saw no way out. Suddenly, there was a loud explosion, shaking the ground. A fireball rose from the source, providing a temporary blanket of yellow light.

He felt the heat and quickly closed the windows, gripping the steering wheel tightly. The cylinders at the back of the house must have caused the explosion.

The lights of all the surrounding houses turned on one by one. First the bedroom lights, then the lounge lights. Even a few blocks ahead, some garage doors opened. Samuel quickly swerved the van to the side of the street and parked.

He turned off all the lights inside and outside the van. Many family cars and other vans had also parked on the side of the road. He parked outside a small apartment behind a run-down Subaru Station wagon.

The apartment in front of him had all its lights on before the explosion. People hurried out of their houses in all directions. Even those living in the apartments came out, most of them in their nightgowns and dresses. At least twenty people went onto the main street, some barefoot, others wearing slippers. They shouted and asked each other questions, discussing their theories.

A tall blonde guy leaning on the van spoke something sensible, saying it was Prince’s house. Many were uncertain because of the toxic smoke reducing visibility.

Someone shouted, and the neighbors realized it was coming from the lawn across the road or maybe from the soccer mom who wore jeans to bed or got ready quickly.

Amidst the chaos, Samuel heard sirens. A large fire truck appeared through the smoke, and three men quickly got out and searched for the nearest fire hydrant. Unfortunately, the closest one was three blocks away.

While the firefighters were busy unscrewing the pipes and connecting their hoses, the roof of the house collapsed, causing some neighbors to hush and others to scream under the violent noise.

The firefighter closest to the houses screamed, COME ON! and water at once flowed. The pressure almost knocked them off their feet, but as professionals, they took control and got down to their jobs.

In the rearview mirror, Samuel saw two police cars had already pulled over at the opposite end of the street, giving the firefighters enough space. The police officers placed cones, showing that the entire street would be closed until the authorities took control of the situation.

Samuel needed to find another way out without raising suspicion. With the neighbors watching the spectacle, the arsonist climbed over to the passenger’s side, slowly opening the door and stepping outside.

There were a few youths around him, all in their late twenties, smiling and laughing as someone’s life’s work went up in flames.

Samuel closed the door effortlessly and seamlessly blended into the crowd. He overheard everyone talking about Patrica Hounslow. The guys were discussing how attractive she was and sharing dirty stories about her.

Meanwhile, the ladies were guessing whether Patrica Housley had survived and questioning why no one ever greeted her. To Samual’s right, he could hear the ladies saying, I heard she was in Asia last week. It was the brunette who mentioned this.

Another lady added, She was in Russia before that. She travels a lot.

Samuel wondered if it was the blonde or the redhead in the green nightgown who said, And she had many men over at her place.

Samuel stopped tracking down who was saying what and just listen, or at least get a clue on how to escape.

The women continued speaking. I saw her at DEM’s last week. She was there with three men, and the next morning I saw all three of them leaving the house, one of them said, causing some giggles. Yes, confirmed the redhead standing next to Samuel. She wore sexy glasses and a stylish white nightgown with black paw prints. She added, I think she was at DEM’s last night. Samuel held his breath, hoping for an answer. Dunno... I left early, replied the redhead.

Samuel quickly turned away and headed towards the apartments. All the rooms he could see had their doors ajar. He needed to compose himself and figure out a plan. The heat was intensifying, not just from the smoke or the burning building.

Suddenly, a guy wearing a blank grey t-shirt and a blue towel stepped in his way. This guy, with his spiky green hair and nose piercings, seemed like someone who always found trouble.

Young people had been having a party in one apartment, and as more people came out to see what was happening, the party spilled outdoors. Someone had already brought out a cooler filled with beer, and those who wanted a drink wasted no time grabbing a bottle.

The neighbors across the road shook their heads in dismay and disbelief. Some parents tried to call the police officers, but the firefighters angrily yelled, Get out of here! T

There was another explosion from the burning house. The top floor walls collapsed. The group of youths cheered loudly and raised their bottles of alcohol to the sky.

The firefighters had the added task of putting out the fire and keeping the crowd back. Soon after, three uniformed police officers reached this side of the street to help. Despite complaints from the neighbors, the police ignored them. Their primary aim was to let the firefighters do their job and keep people safe.

A soccer mom pointed to a group of teenagers with beer, but they were too far away for it to matter.

The oldest police officer questioned the nearby firefighter, who struggled to hear over the noise and shouted back, They had more than household things in there.

The police officer nodded in understanding and turned to the younger officer, who had just finished taping up the street. Meanwhile, the third officer placed down cones.

The oldest police officer ordered, Check if they’ve already responded to this house, and if not, you do it.

The other officer asked, What’s going on, Surg?

In response, the superior officer retorted, Just do as you are told.

Once sure the boy had left to follow the order, the sergeant resumed shouting at the public. Back! Yes, you!

A guy with green hair approached Samuel amidst the noise of fellow students. You room with Charlie, right? I don’t think we’ve met.

They shook hands, and Samuel tried a smile, but sweat from his forehead got in his eyes.

Here, has a beer, the guy offered, and Samuel politely accepted. What’s your name?

Samuel Answered Thomas

Tom

The young man nodded and finished the entire bottle of beer in one gulp. He started coughing and ended up spewing beer on the surrounding people.

Dude, come on, man, the guys around complained aloud. What the hell? That’s not cool.

The man with green hair burped aloud, followed by an apology. Sorry about that! Sweet. You okay, bro?

Sweet, Samuel nodded back. He glanced around the neighborhood, but all he saw were the neighbors, the dead-end street, and the high fences behind the houses, being his future behind prison walls.

Hey, he turned back to his newly formed friend.

This new guy was too busy enjoying the show as two more green and blue fireballs reached for the sky.

HEY! Samuel shouted to be heard.

Chill, man. The green-headed man finally realized he was being addressed.

How do I get out of here? Samuel asked, pointing in a direction. The guy to Samuel’s left pointed in the opposite direction.

You going to drink that or make love to it? the man asked, referring to the beer. Samuel willingly handed it over to him. The green-headed man lost interest and cheered with his colleagues.

Samuel reached for him again, pulling him by the shoulder.

What’s your problem? Why are you acting like a bitch? The boy asked angrily.

I need to get out of here, Samuel said, getting to the point. That way is closed. Is there another way out besides that?

I’m sorry, no, the green-headed man shook his head.

Come on, man. It’s really urgent, Samuel pleaded.

Is someone dying? The guy who had just left with Samuel’s beer returned, looking even more wasted.

No... I mean yes.

The guy turned around, almost tripping over himself. As he left, he mumbled, But I know a way out.

Wait, wait, Samuel stopped him. What did you say?

The guy turned around, smiling. Now you want to talk to me, Mr. Hot Shot. Mr. I can get the hottest girl in the club. He leaned forward.

Can you help me? Samuel pushed his face away.

Sh. The man clapped his hand over his mouth and rocked back and forth as if he might fall asleep at any moment. He spun around, almost tripping over himself, and walked through a group of girls.

These were the same girls that Samuel had overheard talking. The drunk man pushed his way through them, causing one girl to insult him, calling him a dork. The man paused and turned around.

He leaned into Samuel’s chest, wiped drool off his face, and stared at the blonde girl’s breasts. He babbled, Watch it? I am watching it now. He giggled and, before the blonde could respond, the dork took off towards an ice cream truck conveniently parked next to Samuel’s van.

The dork pulled out another bottle, leaned against the van, and asked, See what I did? He tried to open the twist cap bottle without success. I was just making small talk.

Samuel took the bottle from him and handed it back after twisting off the cap. Thanks, man, he said.

The man took a quick sip and asked, You bunk with Charlie, right?

Samuel nodded. The woman he had abducted was still in the van’s trunk. He didn’t know how long she would sleep or if the heat and noise would wake her up.

The drunk guy interrupted his thoughts, saying, So why do you want to get out of here, anyway?

I have a crazy appointment to get to, said Samuel, making a terrible excuse. Taking another drink, the drunk boy tried to finish the bottle, but spilled a quarter of it down his chin and chest. He burped loudly, threw the bottle behind him, missing the van, and it smashed on the road.

The soccer mom from across the street started making a fuss again, but the youths, including Samuel, ignored her.

The young man opened an icebox, and realized he couldn’t find another bottle with his numb and blue fingers.

He exclaimed, Wow! as he admired his fingers aloud.

We’re out of beer! someone shouted.

The crowd of kids responded with a chorus of disappointment. The boy with Samuel stopped mid-sentence, staring into Samuel’s eyes before vomiting loudly. Some vomit landed on their feet.

Sucks, he said.

Samuel turned around and saw a youth carrying a portable stereo system. The youth turned up the volume, blasting metallic music and offensive slurs.

Two of the police officers quickly made their way towards the crowd. To reach the man with the radio, they would have to cross behind the van. They might notice the body in the trunk.

Samuel knew bringing a van was risky, but he had no other choice at such short notice.

A man with green hair confronted the officers. They could hear him because he was speaking loudly to them. The oldest police officer had to turn away because of the smell of alcohol.

The officer instructed the crowd to turn off their music or they would all face arrest. He looked around and, coincidentally, ended up staring at Samuel and his new friend. The officer moved closer, almost able to see inside the van’s trunk.

The green-haired man calmly placed his fingers on the police officer’s chest and said, We have a legal right to be here.

The younger police officer was not calm like the older police officer. He pushed back the green head, but the green head resisted. He moved his hand away but stood stubbornly in his place. Once more, the young police officer spoke, instructing him to vacate their path or face the repercussions.

The green head smiled and asked, Or else what?

The older police man wasted no time and retaliated by yanking the green head’s arms and twisting them.

The green head turned away and his face slammed into the rear window of Samuel’s van. He was shocked and uttered, What the fuck?

The two police officers quickly handcuffed him and turned him around. Another fire truck with blaring sirens arrived at the scene and parked behind the officers and the young man.

The fire truck’s engines were louder than the music on the radio and the noise of the people and the burning building combined. Several firefighters jumped out of the truck and grabbed hoses. Water sprayed from somewhere and drenched the two police officers, the green head, and those nearby.

WE NEED THIS AREA CLEARED NOW, the largest firefighter shouted orders to the police officers.

Hey, hey, hey! the green-headed man pleaded to be heard.

Quiet! the younger police officer ordered, demanding silence.

We need van moved, the firefighter addressed the officer.

Hey man, there’s a woman in- The green-headed man tried to interject, but the younger cop dragged him away. He told Come on, friend. Cry me a river downtown.

Hey, you with the radio! Turn that thing off, the remaining officer shouted at the youth, who understood the consequences. He switched off the radio and slowly disappeared.

The firetruck’s engine continued to run, increasing the sergeant’s frustration.

Move this van, or we’ll move it ourselves! He yelled as loudly as possible. As he leaned forward to investigate the trunk,

Samuel stepped in front of him and declared, It’s mine, it’s mine.

The firefighter shouted angrily, Move this shit! as he screwed the hydrant to stop the water flow. He turned to his peers and said, Hook it up to hydrant three.

The sergeant asked Samuel, Why are you just standing there?

Samuel cautiously circled the van, constantly checking if the police officer had noticed Patricia in the trunk. Fortunately, the officer focused on dealing with the drunken crowd and instructing them to return to their vehicles or face arrest.

Some complied, while others remained oblivious to what was happening. The man who had vomited on Samuel’s legs leaned on the van, on the verge of getting sick again.

Samuel tugged on his left arm and said, Come with me. Show me another way out of here.

I don’t know, man. I don’t feel well, he replied, kneeling down again. This time, Samuel stepped back, realizing it was a false alarm.

He resumed his work and pleaded, Please, man. I need your help. I’ll give you whatever you want if you help me.

This new friend looked up at Samuel with a sad, droopy dog face and asked, Can you get Candice back for me?

The drunk man fell to his knees, arms raised to the sky. Candice, my love. She left me. I can’t live without you.

Samuel reassured him, Yes, I can help you.

Don’t mess with me, dude, the drunk man warned.

I’m not messing with you, Mister Smith said, gripping his sweaty arms. I want to take you to her. To see her! She loves you!

No, she doesn’t,

Yes, she does. She told Charlie, and Charlie told me. If you don’t go now, she’s going to leave. Samuel had to tell him whatever he could.

She already left. The young man rocked back and forth, clearly on the verge of collapsing. He wouldn’t be able to get until tomorrow afternoon.

She’s really waiting for you. Told Samuel.

The young man paused.

Just for tonight. Now Samuel needed to add something that would truly grab the listener’s attention. She wants to meet you. If you don’t go see her tonight, she’ll leave you and never come back.

She-She. Bitch! The young man’s voice trailed off, and he fell silent for a while, possibly falling asleep while standing.

Samuel shook him and said, Let’s go, let’s go.

To his relief, the man agreed, but had trouble opening the door. Samuel helped by pulling up the lever, and the front door opened. However, instead of getting in the front seat, the new friend turned away and dove into the back seat. The police officer who had arrested the person with the green head returned and banged his fist on the rear window.

He asked Samuel, Is this van yours?

Yes- yes

The police officer stopped speaking when he saw the man in the van. He looked at Samuel and asked, Do you live here?

Samuel nodded and said, Room sixty-nine.

The man in the vehicle shouted, Yes, he lives here!

Before the young officer could ask another question, his superior appeared. The superior asked, Why haven’t you moved your van? Move it now!

The superior’s orders drowned out the young officer’s inquiries. Agreeing, the young officer changed his tone and said, You heard him, move it!

Samuel quickly pushed in the drunk man’s feet, closed the door, and got into the driver’s seat. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw four police officers and three firefighters standing just a meter away, while water sprayed everywhere, partially obscuring the rear window.

Error…….

Connection to Server 2 ended.

Reconnection……. Connection Failed.

Attempting Connection to new Server

New Server Located

Attempting Connection

Connection to Server 3 established

Morris was not a fit man.

He wasn’t chubby or fat, but he wasn’t muscular either. His wife didn’t allow him to drink beer, but he would sneak off to the pub when she wasn’t home.

However, he hated the smell of smoke, the crowded atmosphere, and the lingering stench of people in those places. Morris considered himself of medium height at five foot nine. His five brothers and his two younger brothers were taller than him, while his teenage kids were just about the same height as him and his wife was an inch shorter.

Morris had He had blue eyes with bags under them and a double chin. His nose was short and round, and he had thick pink lips. People often saw him as selfish, but he didn’t understand why. He considered himself kind and polite, but he had a mean streak and had done things he regretted. However, he believed that didn’t make him a bad person. Despite his failures and disadvantages, he was successful and well respected.

Five days ago, he had long brown hair that curled around his ears and sometimes poked into his eyes. He kept his hair long to hide his bald spot, which was clearly visible from ten feet away.

He ignored the shame for months until people started bringing it up, starting with his best friend, then his kids, and finally his wife, who bluntly told him he was losing his hair. That was the moment he decided to never go back to the barber.

Soon after, he started experiencing headaches whenever there was any weight on his head. Hats, headphones, and beanies all gave him headaches. This was especially annoying in wintry weather when he had to choose between a headache or freezing his face off.

He stopped and braced his firsthand his knees, panting loudly to catch his breath. Sweat poured down his face, and he closed his eyes as some stung his right side.

Leaning on a large oak tree to his right, he looked around. Thankfully, he didn't get lost this time. He was only eight blocks from his apartment. Normally, it would take him two minutes to drive home, but today it took five minutes or more.

This narrow one-way street had identical apartments on both sides. People didn’t stay outside after dark in this area.

Here was Morris, jogging down the street in his jumper. The wind howled behind him, and when he turned around, the freezing air whipped through his body. He shivered and chattered his teeth.

It was only eight blocks, but it felt like eight miles. His feet felt heavy, and his arms were numb.

The night was settling in, with a full moon high in the sky and patches of grey clouds surrounding it.

Morris grunted, Great, with his croaking voice.

Tonight, there was a full moon in Homai City. Something always happened on nights like this. It had become a tradition to look forward to. Psychos, serial killers, loose cannons with multiple personality disorders, werewolf wannabes, and many others would roam the city.

Shit Morris cursed again, inspiring him to take several steps forward. It was a Saturday night, double the trouble. The streets were empty, as everyone had already made their way to the city center.

He dragged his feet as he looked at the large oak trees on either side of his apartment. As usual, there were some teenagers hanging around to the right. Today, there were only three of them instead of the usual six. They all looked the same to him, so he couldn’t tell which one was his neighbor’s stepson.

One of them insulted him every day, calling him a pig and asking for spare change. Morris always ignored them and kept walking.

Criminals and psychotics were a part of everyday life in Homai city, but there was an even worse menace that both the police and criminals hated equally.

Suddenly, he noticed that the front door of his apartment was wide open. Anyone could be inside, from a small child to a dangerous criminal armed with a machete. Since all his neighbors had experienced multiple robberies at gunpoint or knifepoint, he knew that there was a high probability that someone would invade his house.

He had two choices: he could continue walking down the street for twenty blocks to reach the police station, or he could ask these thugs to deal with the intruder in his house.

He turned around and faced the boys leaning against the metal rail. Immediately, the boy who had insulted him before he spoke up, asking him what he was looking at.

Morris stuttered, Did you see who went into my apartment? He pointed towards the open door with his thumb.

The boy shook his head and asked, Do you need help, sir? Another boy, who had been sitting on the steps, stood up and giggled. His friends joined in.

The third boy said, We’re here to help if you need it. They laughed even louder, making it clear they had no intention of helping Morris. He took a deep breath, adjusted his trousers, and marched up the stairs.

The third boy poked into the other boy’s chest and pointed up to the man on the steps.

Look, he’s a dead man. They’re going to slit you like a pig! the first boy shouted, making sure that the person inside was aware of Morris.

Morris’s stomach rumbled loudly, and he felt a tug in his chest. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this. He was just a man who went to work, came home, went for evening walks, had a shower, ate his TV dinner, and went to bed early.

He was so busy at work that all days seemed to blend, and he had forgotten it was Saturday. He made sure not to leave the house on Saturdays for a reason, and now he was facing the consequences.

Slowly, he pushed the door open.

The large yellow bulb in the center of the square room flickered violently, threatening to die out unless attended to immediately. A cold chill wrapped around his legs, originating from inside the apartment.

The weird thing was that he didn’t have a back door or even a window at the back.

He spun to his right and his shock grew as he saw that his fourteen-inch television set still stood mounted on the wall, and nobody had touched anything.

The Hundreds of DVD movie collections were all in their proper places. The large brown couch sat neatly across from him, untouched. This meant that the only place left to investigate was the tiny, dark doorway leading to the kitchen.

His instincts kicked in and he grabbed the closest weapon he could find - a vase. It was small and weighed less than five kilos. Even though it would shatter easily, it could serve as a temporary weapon.

He slowly took off his shoes and quietly approached the doorway, holding his vase high in the air, ready for action. He swiftly entered the small kitchen, but his attempt to surprise was futile.

The small yellow bulb illuminated the kitchen. The source of the chilly air was the open small fridge.

The wide-open fridge door exposed three eggs he had planned to eat for breakfast, but their empty shells lay scattered on the floor. Pieces of raw ham were also strewn about.

Strangely, the two bottles of beer he had planned to drink that night remained untouched and unopened, still in their original purchased state.

The kitchen was safe. That meant only his bedroom remained. He could turn back, let the thief leave undisturbed.

He shook his head, admiring and cursing his own courage. He raised his armed arm to the aching point and advanced. Slowly, he pushed open the bedroom door and saw.

The bed was tidy, just as he had left it this morning. Even the small side table was in its proper place. What kind of thief invades a house and steals nothing?

Perhaps a homeless man looking for food.

He turned to the right and noticed evidence of the home intruders. His clothes and his expensive $300 suit lay scattered on the floor like dirty rags. As he approached the closet, he saw something that amazed him. Inside the closet door, there was another door that led down a set of wooden steps.

Could this be the access to the basement? The landlord had never mentioned a basement.

Upon closer inspection, he realized that someone had hidden the door behind a wooden wall that was painted blue. Someone had struggled for a long time to rip apart the thick blue wall.

A sound came from the bottom of the steps, followed by a small white light in the underground room, possibly the basement. It could have been the sound of a snake or steam escaping.

Morris hoped it was steam, as he despised snakes.

He tried to listen to the murmuring but could only make out fragments like blast... chest... it... kin.

There was also a familiar smell that Morris couldn’t quite place.

He took a step down the first step and stopped. This is it!

As he climbed down closer to his impending doom, he felt the freezing icy grip of death around his knees, pulling him towards his early grave. He ignored the hissing, which now came louder and closer.

In his mind, he counted the footsteps. There were exactly fifty until his foot touched the floor. A thick white mist covered the unseen floor, and a thin layer of ice coated the walls.

A circle, a circle, the voice repeated... It sounded like the voice of a mutant aiding an evil scientist.

Morris tiptoed slowly around the staircase to see the man.

The only source of light in the room came from three monitors resting on the far end. A dark figure faced away from Morris, focused on the computer screens. The figure was typing on three keyboards simultaneously and muttered in surprise, Circle, circle. I should have known, but he knew. The earth is round, of course. All the calculations are incorrect, unless...

Morris tried to look over the figure’s shoulder to see what was happening on the computers. All three screens had constant streams of numbers that appeared and vanished every three seconds.

The man blurted out, Unless I add the Blight factor, NO-NO-NO. It’s a theoretical equation with a linear loophole. He giggled briefly, then abruptly stopped.

Morris thought he saw the man turn his face towards him, but he couldn’t be sure. The cold was making it hard for him to think straight, and he could feel a headache coming on.

Leave now, the stranger ordered. It has not seen you. Leave now. He turned back to his computers and continued typing. Numbers flew across the screens, changing patterns and symbols.

Morris thought it was crazy, the work of a crazy man.

But the man was right. Morris should leave and call the police.

Why had this non-threatening man brought three computers down here? Why had he changed the building’s heating system and turned this hidden room into his own cooler?

Morris called out, Hey- Hey! But the intruder either didn’t hear him or ignored him.

The intruder began spouting nonsense once again, saying, A circle has no sides, so it’s universal. They say the Earth is flat.

Morris called out again, Hey! I’m talking to you... Why are you here? What are you doing, man?

Suddenly, all the numbers disappeared from the screens. The figure turned its head and hissed, LEAVE NOW.

Something in the empty room struck Morris, pushing him into the staircase. The impact hurt his back, and he felt like a bone might have broken. Painfully, he collapsed to the ground.

The cold gas in the room turned his face pale and threatened to freeze his eyelids.

As he looked, he saw two small cylinders of hydrogen oxide under the stranger’s computer table.

He heard the clicking of keyboards once again. The stranger muttered nonsense. He said things like Radius-pie R squared-helix-no-circle-two-point three K times point six eight K.

Who knows what else this weird person had down here, or who else was involved? Morris couldn’t see anyone else, but someone other than the crazy man had pushed him into the stairs.

The weird man used his chair to move across the computer table and towards a strange machine. It looked like an inside-out microwave with exposed coils, wiring, and an electrical board.

Morris felt scared when he saw the man pick up a soldering iron.

Instead of using it as a torture device, the stranger began soldering wires together. There were three large plugs connected to the mutilated device, going into each of the three computers.

Whenever the weird guy finished connecting a wire, numbers popped up on all three screens and vanished in a flash.

Slowly, Morris pushed his hands onto the cold floor and stood up. The pain quickly reminded him of the attack, but he still didn’t know how it happened.

He limped towards the staircase, caching his breath.

He heard the man say, I know the answer, I know the answer.

Peeking through the gaps in the steps, Morris saw that the man had left his workstation and was now looking directly at him.

Morris thought for a moment, then took a deep breath. He returned to the room, seemingly for a specific reason.

Hey, man, he said, using hand gestures. I don’t know what’s going on with you. But maybe you need some help? I don’t think you’re a bad person. Maybe medication or something could help. Should I call someone for you?

No, the stranger shook his head. We have no one. They’re all dead. Our family is gone. He took a step closer, causing Morris to take a step back.

Morris noticed the burns on the man’s arms, face, and scalp. He looked like a mess, and he also realized that the man was staggering on his feet.

The stranger shouted at the top of his lungs, claiming that No one can see me and that no one can see it "

Morris, concerned, offered, I can get you help.

No! the stranger shouted again, raising his left hand.

Morris felt an excruciating pain in his heart, as if a stake had been driven into it. He fell to the ground, clutching his chest in agony. The stranger approached him, revealing a grotesque face. He had a missing nose, burnt-off ears, and charcoal black lips.

Morris saw cracked teeth and yellow pus oozing out.

Please! Help me! Morris pleaded for help as he realized he was having a heart attack.

The stranger approached him, and Morris could see the fear in his eyes. The stranger’s eyes were bulging and constantly oozing yellow and green pus. Blood dripped from where his red nose should have been.

Terrified, Morris warned the stranger, "Stay away! Stay away! What do you want? Fear paralyzed his body.

The stranger told, It has seen you! in a haunting voice.

He reached out towards Morris, who desperately tried to move away but moved too slowly.

Morris caught a whiff of a salty and rotten egg smell. He closed his eyes, feeling the stranger’s rubbery fingers touch his forehead, leaving behind a trail of green slime.

Suddenly, the stranger backed away and started choking, gasping for breath. Morris, feeling the pain in his chest fading slightly, mustered enough strength to drag himself a few feet away.

With one arm tightly grasped around his neck, and the intruder reached out for Morris.

He hissed, Leave! Leave now!

Morris wondered if he was just seeing things or going crazy.

He thought he saw the sickly man’s face melt like a candle near a fire. The guy's arms went all floppy and useless, and then he just fell onto the foggy floor.

Hey! Morris shouted, scared.

There was no response, only the clittering sounds from the computer and the hissing from the hydrogen cylinders.

Morris paused at the foot of the staircase again.

Hey, he called out again, advancing towards where the man had crumbled. But he saw nothing, only the torn white shirt and stained black jeans left behind.

Wow, Morris uttered, looking around for something he could use. He found a small rod on the desk.

Underneath the T-shirt, there was a hard layer. It wasn’t the concrete floor, but something that made crackling sounds and broke at once.

He grabbed the cylinder bottles. Immediately upon contact, he regretted it.

He used a piece of cloth from the workstation to screw up the cylinders. Within seconds, the white mist above the floor disappeared.

The speakers of the computers emitted a loud computerized metallic voice saying ERROR.ERROR. ERROR. All the screens froze with the word ‘ERROR.’

Morris stopped once again. He noticed the frozen liquid around the T-shirt and jeans had turned red and yellow, with bits of meat and veins frozen in the heap.

This was all that remained of the man. It was logical; he was radioactive.

He had touched Morris, making physical contact on his forehead. Morris still felt the cold slime and almost screamed, realizing that he was heading for the same fate as the frozen pile of meat and bones.

The pile melted away, spreading out on the concrete floor.

Morris hopped away, surprised by his own speed. He checked his feet to ensure none of the puss had reached his shoes. Beneath him, he noticed three white drawings resembling chalk outlines used in homicide cases.

Three people met their demise here.

Mordy, the landlord, sealed up the room and rented it out. Should he call the police officers?

There was a break-in, but the intruder only stole some cracked eggs. The intruder melted away before his eyes, leaving behind scraps of clothing.

The screen replaced the 'ERROR' messages with the words 'YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT'.

Morris felt a sharp pain in his forehead. Sweat covered his body as the basement’s true heat hit him.

The ice on the walls had melted away, making it harder for him to breathe. He hurriedly made his way back up the stairs, feeling the cool air from the bedroom. Once in his room, he closed the doors and collapsed on the floor, coughing loudly and feeling his heart skip beats.

After composing himself, he would find Mordy and demand for something. He would keep quiet about what had happened in exchange. He believed he had enough evidence to potentially put Mordy behind bars.

He got up and raced out of the hall. The large television in the lounge was gone, just as he had expected.

An open door meant a clearance sale with a hundred percent off. Sweat and drool covered his face as Morris rushed out onto the porch.

The street was empty, and the kids who had been on the stairs had already left, most likely taking his TV.

Morris jumped over the railing and landed on his feet. He smiled and made his way down the stairs, banging loudly on the wooden door.

Open the damn door! Morris barked like a madman, embracing his newfound confidence. After a near-death experience, he had gained more confidence, and perhaps this was a good thing.

"What?’ asked the skinny, short, old man opening the door. He had a white mono brow and always wore a white cap to cover his bald head.

What the hell do you want? Mordy barked.

Morris backed away in fear. I-I-I... He stammered, looking around nervously.

What do you want? Mordy lowered his voice but spoke with intensity.

Someone broke into my apartment, Morris said.

What should I do then? Do I look like a police officer? Am I wearing a blue streak? Look up your contract. The landlord is not responsible for any loss of physical property.

I know, I know, Morris cut in, putting his hands forward as if to block a lethal punch. Well, a man damaged the closet and there was a room in there.

Hoh, Mordy at once changed his tone and pulled his hands out of his pockets. Are you okay? He looked concerned.

Yuh... I think, answered Morris, rubbing the back of his head. He was still burning up, even with the soft breeze cooling him down.

Show me! Mordy ordered, and it was clear he wasn’t making a request. Without waiting for a response, the old man jumped into action, brushing past the tenant and heading up the stairs. By the time Morris made his way back to the surface, Mordy was already inside the apartment.

Inside, Morris saw the old man armed with a pistol in his left hand, carefully scanning the kitchen.

Hey, he called Morris, who reluctantly followed him. By the time he reached his bedroom, Mordy had vanished into the secret room.

Morris waited for him.

Mordy returned, the gun now tucked back into his pocket, wearing an intriguing expression on his face.

What was happening here? Morris finally raised his voice in the comfort of his own apartment.

There weren’t two hydrogen cylinders and three computers down there, Mordy informed calmly.

Morris tried to match his tone but failed miserably. What about the body chalks? Were they there before?

Of course, Mordy answered without flinching. That’s why I boarded up that room. Now tell me what you and your friends were doing down there.

Mordy didn’t have any friends. Look, I didn’t know that guy. I don’t know who he was or what he was doing down there!

Whose clothes were those? Mordy asked. So, he left his clothes and ran off?

Enough of your bullshit story, Morris told, frustrated. His rough and crude tone made a comeback.

Mordy said, I can tell you’re a stoner. I should have known when I found out you were a lefty. Lefties are always up to no good.

Confused, the other man asked, What the heck are you talking about?

Mordy replied, Should I call the police, or can we handle this ourselves? What’s your poison?

Stop right there! Morris confidently pointed out. I had nothing to do with this. It was like this when I arrived. I’m going to call the police and sort this out. You can explain to them what’s going on here.

Morris hoped his bluff would work, or else he would suffer the consequences. He had to act, so he turned towards the door and took three steps forward. The landlord didn’t back down, so Morris continued walking until he reached the porch.

He stood there, trying to cool down his rising temperature.

Mordy darted out of the apartment, ready to make a deal with his prey. Morris had to think fast and blurted out his request, Room six two on the tenth floor, with two master bedrooms overlooking the bay.

The confusion on the landlord’s face was satisfying. Morris knew he had pushed it too far by mentioning the rooms in Providence that supposedly earned half a million per year.

Mordy claimed I can’t. I have an agreement with the tenant.

Morris didn’t back down and pointed his finger at Mordy, demanding, Just do it.

Mordy pulled out his pistol, gripping it tightly. He threatened Morris, saying I want you out of here by sunrise.

No Morris stood his ground.

Mordy stopped and turned around, looking around cautiously. He whispered to Morris, I can shoot you right now, and no one can touch me. He pointed the gun at Morris’s face.

Hey, hey, Morris raised his hands in surrender. Okay, okay. I give in.

You will disappear, and it will be like you were never here. You do not know who I am or what I am capable of.

Okay, okay... I want nothing. I won’t say anything to anyone, Morris cried out.

With his gun steady and his eyes locked on the man, Mordy motioned for Morris to go inside. Move, he ordered.

Morris quickly scanned for any witnesses but found none. He hurried into the room; his arms still raised.

I am sorry. I am so, so sorry. Please, just let me go. I won’t tell anyone anything, Morris pleaded, dropping to his knees and clasping his hands together.

You ran your mouth to the wrong person, mate, Mordy snarled.

Morris closed his eyes tightly and braced himself as Mordy pulled the trigger. But the gun made a clicking sound, doing nothing.

Mordy lowered the gun and grabbed Morris by the shoulders, pulling him to his feet.

Well played, He grunted, putting the gun back in his pocket. Just testing you!

You son of a bitch! Morris shouted, losing control. He felt his fist connect with the landlord’s chin, causing his head to jerk to the side.

What had he done? Morris panicked as his right fist struck the old man’s chin again, violently jerking his head once more.

He stepped back, afraid he would hit the man again, but the landlord collapsed lifelessly to the floor.

Huh? Morris looked around the room, unsure of what to do. He knelt and shook the old man, but there was no response, no sign of life.

Dude! Morris shook him harder, and blood slowly trickled from the landlord’s nose, staining the white rug.

Morris gasped, jumping to his feet. Mordy? More blood dripped from the landlord’s nose, creating dark spots on the rug.

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Connection to Server 3 ended.

Reconnection……. Connection Failed.

Attempting Connection to new Server

New Server Located

Attempting Connection

Connection to Server 4 established

Gwen noticed a flaw in the chart, but Macy didn’t speak up to help her. Her classmates laughed at her, even the new transfer student. She felt like an outcast just because she was smarter than them.

Gwen understood the complexities of the bee habitat and how they adapt to changing weather. She tried explaining it to her peers, but they didn’t listen.

Ms. Callen dismissed her ideas as foolish and said