The relentless hum of the digital alarm clock, that unexciting melody that had been his wake-up call for years, settled in Liam's brain like a dull throb. In the last few days, his repulsion for that familiar sound had escalated to unimaginable levels—a soundtrack to his growing misery. His eyes opened slowly, his gaze still lost on the pristine white ceiling of his new bedroom, an empty canvas of broken dreams. Without needing to look, his right hand extended, a muscular memory coreography that executed the "dismiss alarm" with the precision of an automaton.
Liam's body protested with a barely audible groan as he sat up. Every muscle fiber cried out for more rest, a residue from the previous day, an exhausting marathon of boxes and packaging that sealed the goodbye to his old life. The back pain, a constant companion since the move, reminded him of the magnitude of what he had left behind. The temptation to succumb to the blanket for "just 5 more minutes" was a seductive siren, but he knew that indulgence would drag him back into the abyss of sleep, an escape he couldn't afford. Jet lag, a persistent ghost after two weeks, enveloped him in perpetual drowsiness.
His feet touched the floor, and an electric shock of cold ran up his spine. It was like stepping on ice. Quickly, he slipped his feet into soft slippers, a small comfort in the assault of winter. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand, he dragged himself towards the kitchen.
As he crossed the threshold of his room, the glacial air embraced him, a dry chill that seeped into his bones. He hated this climate with every fiber of his being. California, with its eternal sunshine and warm breezes, was now a distant memory, a lost paradise that the relentless cold of this new city rubbed in his face. A city so cold, so... boring.
He approached the counter, the morning ritual of coffee, his only anchor. But when he saw the coffee maker, a knot formed in his stomach. It wasn't his, the familiar, luxurious machine he had bought two years ago. This was a piece of modern design, small, with clean lines and an almost alien look. He inspected it, searching for buttons, switches, any indication of operation. Nothing. It seemed designed to respond to voice.
He scanned the kitchen for his old coffee maker, but upon not finding it, a sigh of resignation escaped him. He would have to deal with this technological marvel.
—Turn on —his voice came out rough, raspy, the cold tightening his throat like an invisible collar. The coffee maker remained impassive, a silent monument to his ineptitude.
He cleared his throat.
—Make coffee —This time, his voice returned to a normal pitch. The machine remained silent, unperturbed.
Liam had already woken up in a foul mood—a constant since the move—and the coffee maker's insolence pushed him over the edge.
—Do something, you stupid machine! —he yelled, his voice echoing in the silence of the house, and he slammed his hand against its sleek plastic side.
His head snapped abruptly toward the bedroom. Amelia. Still sleeping.
He froze, holding his breath, ears strained, waiting for any sign that his outburst had woken her. Silence was his only answer. Great, that's all I needed.
He slumped into one of the dining chairs, seeking to calm himself. His gaze drifted to the windows overlooking the backyard. A vibrant canvas of green, majestic trees, a blue sky dotted with fluffy clouds, and the first, shy rays of sun peeking through. It was almost a postcard. If the reason for their move had been to find peace and harmony with nature, it would be perfect. But it wasn't.
—Good morning —Amelia's voice caught him by surprise. He hadn't heard her leave the room, her light steps almost inaudible.
—Good morning —Liam replied, forcing a calm tone, striving to hide his irritation. He prayed Amelia hadn't heard his little altercation with the coffee maker.
Amelia approached the machine with an indulgent smile, like someone approaching a mischievous child. She observed it, and with a casual movement, grabbed the limp power cord and plugged it into the socket. Instantly, a crystal-clear screen unfolded, glowing with a futuristic interface and several options.
Liam felt stupid. An idiot. In his rage, he hadn't even considered the most basic thing. Amelia chose an option, and the machine whirred to life, pouring a frothy cappuccino in a matter of seconds.
Liam was astonished by the speed. His old coffee maker was a noisy, slow clunker in comparison. But still, for a machine from the year 2055, he expected something more. His coffee maker was from 2025, "retro" by current standards. Sure, there had been great advances in the world, especially in the automotive industry and, terrifyingly, in the armaments sector, with weapons capable of erasing entire cities and planes that made his father's old army jets seem archaic.
But this wasn't the future his childhood movies had promised: robots doing everything, flying cars filling city skies, or scientific and medical breakthroughs that could cure all deadly diseases, or even make people immortal. The reality was far more... mundane.
—Do you want one? —Amelia's voice pulled him out of his thoughts again.
—Yes, please —Liam replied, nodding.
Amelia selected the black coffee option, just the way Liam liked it. The coffee maker prepared it with the same efficiency. Amelia took both mugs and approached the table.
—I guess you didn't see it was unplugged, did you? —she said as she sat down beside him.
Liam's suspicions that Amelia had heard him dissolved.
—I'm sorry if I woke you up. I woke up very tired today, I think I haven't been sleeping well —Liam excused himself, feeling a pang of guilt.
Amelia took his hand, her eyes meeting his. —It will only be for a couple of months, until production is over. Then we'll go back to California, to our life before.
Liam returned the smile, squeezing her hand. He wanted to tell her about all the problems surrounding the film's production—the pressure, the delays—but he didn't want to worry her. After all, moving to this city had been his idea.
—What happened to my coffee maker? —Liam limited himself to asking. —It's in the garage. Susie gave me this one yesterday when I visited her —Amelia replied. Liam just nodded, the bitter taste of the coffee and guilt filling his mouth.
After his shower, at seven-thirty, Liam sat in front of his screen, the weight of the final script crushing him. He was missing the third act, the climax, the definitive closure of his trilogy. Three weeks. He had been stuck for three weeks, unable to find an ending that satisfied him, that lived up to what he imagined for his character. Production of the third film was looming, and as the writer and director, the pressure was immense.
Amelia came into the room, dressed and holding the car keys. —I'm going to see Susie, I'll be back in a few hours —Seeing that Liam didn't answer, she jangled the keys, the chime echoing in the silence.
—Uh-huh —Liam muttered, without looking up from the screen. —Did you hear what I just said? —Yes, Susie's house, back in a few hours.
He hadn't really paid attention, but it was the same routine as the last few days. Going to see her friend Susie. He heard the click of the front door closing and submerged himself back into his universe, into the script.
Three hours later, and with the third glass of the cheap whisky he had bought the day before, he was still at the same dead end. Desperation clawed at his throat. The production of the third film was right around the corner, and he, the creative brain, the pillar, was running dry.
He kept trying, but another hour later, he gave up. Inspiration was a ghost that refused to appear. He got up and headed to the living room, seeking a break. He collapsed onto the sofa, closing his eyes.
A couple of hours later, he woke up.
Even after the nap, fatigue enveloped him. He looked toward the study, but knew it was useless. The script wouldn't be finished today, a pattern of recent times. He really wanted a vacation, to clear his head, but he knew it was too late. He grabbed the TV remote, turned it on, and began scrolling through the endless options of series and movies on the various streaming services. Nothing appealed to him.
He put on the news. The screen filled with the serious faces of anchors, talking about the recent conflicts between the United States, Russia, and North Korea. The assassination of the UK Prime Minister. An assassination attempt against the Pope. All in a matter of days. Experts debated, some attributing it to known terrorist groups, others to a new faction that had emerged a month ago—the same one that had claimed responsibility for the devastating attack in Germany: two bombs, resulting in over two hundred dead and five hundred injured. Horrible. Liam tried to avoid the news; it was always bad, and the last few weeks had been especially grim.
The phone rang.
He stood up, looking for his cell phone, but couldn't find it anywhere. He followed the sound of the ringtone, which led him to the entrance hallway, next to the boxes they had unpacked the day before.
It was Amelia. —Hello —he said, holding the phone to his ear.
—Hey, I called you an hour ago and you didn't answer.
—Yeah... sorry, I was so focused on the script, I most likely didn't hear it.
It had been during Liam's nap, but he was supposed to be working on the script. That was why he hadn't accompanied Amelia the last few days, but the truth was he preferred it. It wasn't that he disliked Susie, but her incessant chatter exhausted him. She was one of those people who could talk for hours without a break. So, he decided to maintain his small lie. He knew Amelia would force him to go with her if she knew the truth, and he owed her. She hadn't wanted to move to the city either, but he had convinced her that it would be for the best, something he now bitterly regretted.
—Well, I'm at Susie's house, but Travis is coming over. I was thinking if we could go eat at that restaurant we went to last week with James and Caitlin, just the two of us. I really liked it.
James, his friend. He had arrived a week ago, but Liam hadn't seen him since that one outing—a "warm welcome to the Antarctic," as he called it. He was the only one he truly connected with, but between the move and the script revisions, he hadn't had time for him. James had messaged him to meet up, but Liam had been postponing it. He couldn't afford a free night, not yet, especially not with James. He knew that with him, the nights would drag on, not because James forced it, but because Liam genuinely enjoyed himself, though sometimes they went to excess.
—Sure, I'll change quickly, and I'll meet you there —Liam replied.
—Okay, I'll be... —Amelia didn't finish her sentence.
—Amelia, hello? —The call had been cut off abruptly.
He checked the phone and tried to dial again, but there was no dial tone. He hung up and returned to the living room. He didn't notice when he entered, but the television was off. Liam didn't remember turning it off, but he didn't give it importance and headed to the study to put away the whisky. It wasn't that he had a drinking problem, or so he convinced himself, but in the last two weeks, he had finished five bottles. The script block had caused Liam to drink more than usual. While it wasn't a problem for him, Amelia was starting to criticize it, especially after he had to vomit four nights ago. Liam was convinced it was the Chinese food, but Amelia didn't buy it and scolded him strongly, even suggesting he go to a place for alcoholics. To Liam, it was a complete exaggeration since he barely had a couple of glasses a day, and some days none, but he understood Amelia. Her father had been an alcoholic, and although he never verbally or physically abused her or her mother, it had caused them many problems. So, he decided not to drink in front of Amelia, nor tell her that he was still doing it.
He entered the room and noticed that the light and his computer were off. He tried to turn on the light, but it wouldn't work. He grabbed the bottle and put it in the cabinet next to the lamp. He tried to turn the lamp on, but it didn't work either. Damn it, everything is going from bad to worse.
He waited a moment to see if the power would return, but after five minutes, he went to check the circuit breaker in the garage. When he opened the door, the cold air hit him, making him shiver for the second time that day. He approached the box and opened it, flipping the lever down and up, but nothing happened. He went back inside the house, headed to his room, and grabbed a sweater from the closet. He went to the front door and stepped outside, but since it was daytime, he couldn't tell if the outage had happened to the whole block or just his house.
This reminded him of the real estate agent's words, telling him how good the house was, the neighbors, the entire area, and how the utilities never failed. You can never trust those salespeople; they'll invent anything just to sell you.
He went back inside and took out his phone, but the screen just stayed black, completely inert. How strange, did it run out of battery? The power was out, but the fact that the cell phone wasn't working made him a little suspicious. He remembered they had an extra cell phone stored in a desk drawer in the study, so he went to look for it.
Then he felt it.
It was light at first, small vibrations in the table and the chairs next to him that made him stop and pay attention. But in a moment, in a matter of seconds, the entire house shook with unleashed fury.
In up and down movements, the earthquake violently shook everything inside the house. The intensity increased every second. Liam yielded to the brute force, his body and head slamming against the floor with a dry impact that momentarily knocked him unconscious, but the continued shaking, as intensely furious as before, dragged him back to the harsh reality.
The house began to split apart with a chilling sound, like the lament of a wounded beast. Liam couldn't do anything. The movements pinned him to the floor, unable to stand. He could only watch, terrified, as his home collapsed around him. The table and chairs that were next to him were now several meters away, dragged by the seismic rage. Entire sections of his house began to crumble. The roof over his bedroom collapsed with a deafening roar, crushing his bed and other belongings. The study where he had been working moments ago disintegrated into a cloud of dust and debris, and the ceiling above him began to give way.
A huge piece of the ceiling crashed down beside him, so close that the rubble from the impact struck his body with brutal force. Liam was engulfed in sharp pain, and the constant shaking of his entire body seemed endless, even though only a few seconds had passed since the earthquake began.
Another piece of the ceiling fell, now on his other side, throwing more debris.
At that exact moment, the shaking ceased.
Liam couldn't move; he was too sore. He tried to catch his breath and regain strength, but it was useless. His mind, overwhelmed by terror and pain, yielded to the darkness, the silence descending upon the chaos.
[[4 Years before]]
That day, Liam woke up engulfed in a mix of euphoria and anxiety. It was the night of the premiere of his first film as a director, based on the book he had written two years prior. He had never dressed with such care. He wore an immaculate white shirt and a black tuxedo, very expensive and elegant, from a designer whose name he couldn't even pronounce. He had met the designer just two weeks earlier—a truly kind person, but so extravagant and out of the ordinary that it made Liam completely rethink his concept of eccentricity. If he previously thought actors were strange, this man was in a league of his own.
Everything about that day was perfect, starting with the hotel suite. He had never stayed in such lavish accommodation: a private studio, three bathrooms, a comfortable double King size bed that seemed to swallow him whole, and a host of luxuries he never imagined seeing in a hotel room. He didn't come from a humble family, but neither was he wealthy enough to afford a room like this.
He hadn't finished dressing when he heard a knock on the door. He buttoned his shirt and went to see who was bothering him. Liam had given strict orders: no interviews, no calls. He peeped through the peephole and recognized James, who was wearing a white tuxedo and white shoes. Liam opened the door.
—One word: "Elegance" —James declared with a wide smile, visibly as excited as Liam.
—I know, I've never looked so good —Liam replied.
—I was talking about myself, but you don't look... so bad, I guess —James teased.
Liam made a dry gesture for him to come in. He turned and headed back to his room. James entered and slumped onto the living room sofa.
They had met during filming. Liam, as the writer with previous experience in independent films, had been entrusted with the directing; James was in charge of the camera department. The intense collaboration during the shoot had turned them into great friends.
—Who the hell stays here? A director or the King of Arabia? —James shouted from the other room.
—I know. A bit excessive, right? —Liam replied.
—A bit. I feel like even the air here must cost millions —James joked.
Liam finished dressing and entered the living room.
—Well, everyone gets what they deserve —Liam said with a feigned tone of arrogance.
—Then what are you doing here, asshole? —James retorted, laughing.
—Don't worry, buddy. You keep working hard and doing a good job behind the cameras, and that way, I can continue staying in suites like this —Liam replied, savoring his comment.
—Ouch. That was a low blow, even for you —James said with a mock offended expression.
—The King of Comedy can't handle a little teasing?
—Yeah, but what you just said, even joking, is the truth. Some people take advantage of the hard work of others. My dad died ten years ago working construction, he was the best in the county, and the company owner didn't even cover the funeral expenses. Just one of the many things rich people take advantage of over the needy —James said, his tone turning serious.
—Don't mess with me, James. Your dad is alive, you introduced him to me three months ago. Plus, he owns a construction company —Liam said.
James burst into loud laughter. —Shit, I forgot. And here I was trying to make you feel like garbage.
—On a day like this, I doubt you could succeed.
—Anyway. Next time I'm staying in the room with you. It would do me good to feel like a king, even for a few minutes.
—I don't think so. You know how the media is. One day you're a successful director, and the next you're the guy having an affair with his camera director.
James laughed again. —Are you ashamed of our relationship, Liam?
—Well, we're both single, and we're always seen together. I swear the production people were starting to talk about us being a couple.
—You wouldn't be that lucky. It takes more than being the director to get this beautiful piece of candy —James said with arrogance.
—Yeah, and that's why you're doing so well in love —Liam retorted.
James placed a hand over his chest, feigning a gesture of pain. —Right in the feels.
—No, seriously. What happened with Caitlin? It seemed like you two were getting along great —Liam said, making a suggestive gesture. —If you know what I mean.
—I don't know, it's just…
—Is it that she didn't deserve your beautiful piece of candy? —Liam commented while James was still talking.
—It's just that lately she's been indifferent to me —James continued as if he hadn't heard Liam's last comment. —Sometimes she doesn't even answer my texts or takes hours to do it, and she acts differently, almost angry, you could say.
—I didn't know your precociousness issues ever caused you problems with girls —Liam joked.
—Haha, idiot. That's enough, I'm supposed to be the one making the jokes —James said.
—I have to take advantage while I can. I know your time to tease me will come later —Liam responded.
—Well, are you ready, or do you need a little more makeup? —James said sarcastically.
—I don't think I'll look good even with the final touch —Liam replied, returning the sarcasm.
—Then let's go; they can't start the party without us —James said, standing up.
—You mean they will start the party without us.
—Let me feel important for once —James said as he walked out, closing the door behind him.
The actors had already arrived and were doing the typical photo shoot along the red carpet. In the distance, Liam spotted Amelia, Danielle, and Michael, posing for the cameras, almost at the end of the carpet. They were the main actors of the film, so they had all the attention.
Amelia had always attracted him. She was beautiful, with auburn hair, and had a personality that Liam found irresistible. After all, it was he who decided that she would be in charge of playing Rachel, the wife of the main character in his book, who had such an important role that, at times, she stole the spotlight from the lead.
—Ready? —James asked as he approached.
—Ready to see my great masterpiece on the big screen? Of course, I am —Liam replied.
—You're humble for a writer —James said, answering in the same sarcastic way.
They started walking down the red carpet.
Afterward, there was a party at the house of David, one of the film's producers, where most of the people who had participated in the shoot were invited. James and he arrived early and began sampling all the appetizers and drinking the champagne being served. It was truly a moment to celebrate; the film had received excellent initial reviews and seemed to be a huge hit with the audience.
—If I keep this up, I think my shirt buttons are going to explode —James commented while taking his sixth glass of champagne.
—So, you're not done eating? —Liam asked, knowing the answer.
—I'm just getting started, buddy. They still have to serve the delicious dinner.
—Well, I guess now you really can feel like royalty, at least for a few moments —Liam joked.
—I believe it —James said.
Liam truly couldn't believe how much James had eaten without feeling the need to throw up. He himself had stopped eating half an hour ago and still felt full. Moreover, he had been distracted ever since Amelia arrived. She came an hour after them and had sat three tables away from theirs with all the actors. He couldn't take his eyes off her; that night, in his eyes, she looked even more stunning.
—You know, if you're not going to go talk to her, there's no point in stalking her like that —James commented with a cheeky smile.
—What are you talking about? —Liam knew James was about to unleash a long list of teasing comments.
—The victim of your lustful desires —James said in a mocking tone.
—It took you long enough to start teasing me back —Liam said.
—You know me, I save them for the right moment —James said, laughing.
Liam smiled back, laughing. James had noticed the glances between him and Amelia and knew he wouldn't be left alone all night.
—I think you've had enough champagne; it's making you see things that aren't there —Liam said sarcastically.
—Ahem... I'm just saying what I see, buddy, and when I see two people attracted to each other, I can't help but try to intervene to get them together —James said seriously, but with an attitude that betrayed he was still joking. —I'm your Cupid.
—What the hell are you talking about? Shut up and just focus on eating —Liam said, irritated this time.
—Oh, please, you practically undressed her with your eyes. At least try to be subtle; you look like a pervert —James continued with the teasing.
—What? —Liam said, angrily.
—I think everyone at the party noticed you staring at her.
—Seriously? —Liam asked, a worried look on his face.
James burst into laughter.
—Son of a bitch —Liam said, irritated.
—Your face went so pale you could have been mistaken for a snowman —James said, still laughing.
—I don't want to look like a stalker or like I'm coming on too strong —Liam said, still worried.
—Don't worry, we all know you want to sleep with her —James commented.
Liam shot James a furious look, and James laughed again.
—You have no limits, do you? —Liam said, now more irritated.
James cupped his hands, pretending to kiss someone, and began making kissing gestures and noises. —Mmm, Amelia, I love you. —He descended further into ridiculousness, making passionate kissing sounds. —You took too long, Liam, now take me.
Liam couldn't help but laugh, until he saw two gentlemen walking past the table who gave them a strange look. James must have noticed Liam's gaze because he stopped and looked at the men.
—Don't worry, friends, I'm just giving him a preview of how we'll end the night —James said, giving an exaggerated wink.
The gentlemen continued walking without saying anything.
—Idiot, they already think we're a couple —Liam said, scolding James.
—Are you afraid of people thinking you're gay? —James asked.
—No, that's not it, but if they think we're a couple, my opportunities with someone else would be shut down.
—Someone else? Are you referring to Amelia? —James asked.
—I didn't say that, I don't know what you're talking about —Liam said sarcastically.
—Please, are you thirteen years old? Why don't you just admit you like her?
—She's an actress who will soon be famous, and besides, she's very beautiful. She'll end up dating someone, I don't know... like another famous actor or some millionaire businessman.
—Ahem, so you think she's a gold-digger? —James said.
—No, I didn't mean that. It's just that you know I tend to be very serious, and let's just say I tend to be too boring…
—You're absolutely right about that —James said while Liam was still talking.
—...And besides, I have idiotic friends —he said, pointing his head at James. —I don't think there's any real attraction.
—Excuse me, drama queen, it looks like the champagne is affecting someone else now.
—I just don't think there can be a relationship between us. Plus, I'm going to continue directing the next films. It wouldn't be well-seen.
James started laughing. —Well-seen? What are you talking about? You make it sound like forbidden love. I didn't know she was royalty and you were just a commoner.
—I meant that people might think I chose her just because I like her or because I wanted to get involved with her. I don't know, they might even think I asked her to be my girlfriend in exchange for the leading role in the films.
—And who would say all those things? —James asked in a serious tone.
—I have no idea, I just think it could be misinterpreted —Liam replied.
—In this industry we work in, there are always love affairs, and people fall in love on set. You know, actors falling for each other while shooting a series or movie, or people behind the production. It wouldn't be anything new, and it shouldn't be frowned upon as long as you both want something to happen. After all, you did choose her because you were attracted to her, but don't worry, I know you didn't do it with the intention of dating her. You're somewhat... lacking in courage to scheme something like that.
—What do you mean, lacking in courage? —Liam asked.
—Well, like I said, you've been talking to her since production started, and even though it's obvious she's attracted to you too, you've never dared to tell her how you feel —James replied.
—Are you calling me a coward?
—Your words, not mine —James said.
—I already told you I don't think there's any real attraction, at least not from her side. She's just being kind. I wouldn't want to say anything out of line, like admitting I like her, and make things awkward for both of us for the rest of the filming.
—Or maybe she likes you too, which is most obvious, and you end up having a relationship. Maybe you're closing yourself off from that opportunity.
—But what if not? —Liam said.
—But what if so? —James said.
—Let's just change the subject. Don't mind me, I think you're right and the champagne is affecting me —Liam said seriously.
—Come on, it's obvious there's a lot of chemistry between you two. At least from everyone else's perspective, it's always been thought you were lovers or something similar —James commented, insisting on the topic.
Liam knew that was really the case. They occasionally shared those kinds of glances, like tonight, and there had always been a certain tension between them. Most days during filming, they talked for hours on set.
—Besides, we're not starting filming again for another year. Right now, I don't think it would be badly seen —James told him, smiling and making the same suggestive gesture Liam had made in the hotel. —"If you know what I mean."
Liam looked back at Amelia. She looked at him too. This time, their eyes met for longer, and she smiled.