?Chapter 9: A Sliver of Control

  ?[Barcelona – Maver Holmer’s Office / Night]

  ?Maver sat in his chair, his back straight, and his eyes fixed on the screen before him. The coffee cup in his hands shook slightly with every movement, as if keeping pace with his hesitation in thinking.

  ?He whispered to himself as he reviewed his notes about the show:

  "The hall… nothing tangible happened… the void was precisely calibrated. But there is a glitch."

  He paused for a moment, blew into his cup, then picked up the papers on the table, opening the advertisement that arrived by email before the show and reading it with scrutinizing eyes.

  ?He said in a low voice:

  "The identity of the organizers… this might clarify some matters. Who is behind this show? And why do they focus on perception?"

  He returned to the computer, opened old files about recent cases in the neighborhood, arranged them next to his new notes, and began to cautiously link the past and the present.

  ?His voice became sharper, as if he were talking to himself aloud:

  "Alright… let’s return to what matters. The suicides, the sudden withdrawals, the repeating patterns… the show did not offer anything direct. But perhaps what I noticed there will give me an indicator of who is related to the 'Traviesas' neighborhood."

  ?He began writing notes, moving files aside, linking small details together, and diving into the follow-up of the investigation with the eye of an investigator looking for every trace. Everything became one additional step in understanding the mystery, not the end, but part of a chain of evidence that would lead him toward the truth.

  ?[The Next Day – The Train]

  ?The train shook violently on the rails, and the sound of the wheels rose as a monotonous rhythm repeating itself in the carriage. Oweis surrendered to a short nap, but his body found no rest: his heart trembled, and his hands shivered over the seat.

  ?He opened his eyes to Matthias and Adrian. They were engrossed in a card game, but something seemed different. Adrian’s hand movement lagged a little before he picked up the card, and the sound of his laughter arrived before his lips moved.

  ?Oweis caught his breath, trying to link what he saw with what he heard, but perception refused to cooperate.

  “What is this…?” he whispered to himself.

  ?This feeling was deeper and more violent than what happened during the film days ago. There, it concerned an inanimate object (a TV), but here.. the human being himself began to dismantle before him.

  ?Suddenly, Matthias gripped Oweis’s arm lightly.

  The ringing stopped. Everything returned to its place all at once, as if a sharp slap had returned him to reality.

  ?At the first touch of Oweis’s arm, Matthias tightened his grip unintentionally.

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  A slight tremor ran through his hand.

  ?He blinked.

  ?“Oweis… are you okay? You are shaking as if you have the chills.”

  ?Oweis answered in a fragmented voice:

  “No… I don’t know… something strange is happening.”

  ?Oweis stopped suddenly, not because he wanted to, but because Matthias was staring at Adrian with wide eyes and tensed cheeks.

  ?Matthias whispered in fear, as if talking to himself more than to Oweis:

  ?Adrian… something strange is happening with you?

  ?At that moment, Matthias was seeing his hand extended before him; he felt an unusual weight in it, as if the air had become thick around his fingers. He blinked… and Adrian’s movement before him lagged for a moment before completing, and the sound of his laughter arrived before his lips moved.

  ?"Adrian… did you move now?" Matthias said.

  ?Adrian raised his eyebrows in complete surprise, and his lips trembled slightly with confusion.

  ?What are you talking about, man? I’m fine, waiting for my turn to play.?

  ?Then he added:

  ?“Are you guys okay? What is the matter? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  ?Oweis tried to steady his voice, and noticed that Matthias himself seemed tense.

  “Matthias… what happened?”

  ?Matthias hesitated. He looked at Adrian, then at his hand extended before him. His fingers were trembling… and their movement seemed slower than it should be.

  ?He swallowed his saliva.

  ?"Everything… is moving slowly."

  ?Adrian frowned.

  "What do you mean by slow?"

  ?Matthias waved his hand before his eyes. The movement seemed heavy to him, as if the air had become viscous.

  "Look… did you see this?"

  ?No one answered.

  ?He silenced for a moment, then whispered while staring at his palms:

  "I am not joking."

  ?Oweis approached a step.

  "Close your eyes. Breathe. Just breathe."

  ?Matthias took a deep breath, then another. He closed his eyes.

  ?Heavy seconds passed.

  ?And when he opened them—

  The sound returned synchronized with the movement.

  That hidden delay disappeared.

  ?He breathed in confusion, like someone who had just come out from under the water.

  ?But Oweis was not reassured.

  For a short moment, before everything calmed down, he had glimpsed the same tremor transferring from Matthias’s hand… to his own fingertips.

  ?He said nothing.

  ?After a few hours, the train finally entered Vigo station.

  ?[Oweis’s Apartment – Evening after returning from Barcelona]

  ?Oweis opened his apartment door, and it was as if the place were familiar but had suddenly become strange. His bag fell on the chair, and his coat on the floor. He looked around quickly; everything looked wrong, small or tilted in a way he was not used to.

  ?He sat on the edge of the sofa, sighed, then stood up and opened the computer. He typed search words quickly: "Barcelona – the glitch – the show". Images, videos, and vague articles gathered before him. He began to compare, analyze, and write, then erased and rewrote several times. His fingers stopped sometimes; he would lift his hand, wait a second, then continue.

  ?He was not interested in the device itself. He was watching the letters on the screen: do they move as they should? Are they delayed for one minute? Every small detail was important.

  ?He went to the kitchen. He pulled a cup from the shelf and placed it on the edge of the table, protruding slightly over the edge. It was not a test of gravity, but of his perception: would he see it fall? Or would it remain static?

  ?He returned to the desk. The cup remained present in his mind, refreshing the memory of the slowness of reality he had witnessed.

  ?He spilled the coffee on the papers without noticing. Nothing moved but his hands on his temples, pressing them hard. He dipped his pen into the spilled spot and drew a steady line, comparing the chaos of the liquid and the stillness of the ink. He was trying to maintain his focus amidst small chaos around him.

  ?He approached the window, touched the glass with his hand, and rested his forehead on it. The traffic lights repeated below; he stopped the count at every second he felt a weight behind his eyes.

  ?He returned to the desk, closed the computer, pulled out a notebook, and began to write. The direct touch of the paper returned some control to him.

  Before he slept, he arranged his apartment keys on the table, exactly parallel to the edge. He adjusted them by one millimeter, then left them.

  He stopped for a moment, closed his eyes, and smiled a little.

  ?He did not need to correct anything outside this apartment. Here, everything was under his control… or so he felt.

  ?To be continued...