Elias didn't sleep.
He was lying on his bed with his eyes open and counting the cracks in the ceiling and listening to the city breathing the walls. Any tiny sound was amplified beyond its due. Each of the shadows seemed as though it was waiting him to blink.
"Observation phase extended."
The words were repeating on his head slow and deliberate.
Observation of what?
Of him?
And when morning came it came without pity.
The light was sliding through the blinds, and came like an accusation on his face. It was only one buzz on his phone with no message, a warning that the battery was low. Elias sat up, rubbing his eyes.
"Okay," he whispered. "Okay."
He needed proof.
Not belief. Not fear. Proof.
Then he was ready early in the morning and got out of the apartment before skepticism could persuade him against action. It was the time of the day when the city was not so excited and was waking up. Street cleaners laboured without speaking. Some of the first commuters gazed into their phones as though there were no other objects in existence.
Elias was wandering hither and hither, and by his instincts directed.
That was new too--instincts. She was sharper, heavier, they thought. As though it were within him bent forward at the times when he was not listening.
At a crosswalk he suddenly stopped.
Don't cross yet.
The thought came uninvited.
A second after, a bicycle rider rushed over the red light, and he narrowly escaped him.
The heart of Elias dropped against his ribs.
He withdrew with difficult breathing.
Again this was no coincidence.
He kept walking.
Towards the end of the morning, he was close to the financial district. Tall buildings. Clean sidewalks. Authority wearing costly cloth. This was a section of the city that he was never comfortable with. It brought him back to reality that stability was quite far away.
When he walked past a cafe with glass-fronts, that same trick came on him.
Behind the eyes.
Quiet. Focused.
The world thinned again.
"Instruction available."
Elias stopped walking.
The crowd went round him, irritated, unknowingly.
"Instruction?" he whispered.
The pressure deepened.
"Do not intervene."
His pulse jumped. "Intervene in what?"
No answer.
It was a feeling he had at the moment--a pressure of the mind to the cafe.
Two men sat opposite each other in a place inside, close to the window. One was a well-cut suit, self-confident, easy-going. The other was looking nervous with his fingers too tight around a cup of coffee.
Elias did not know how he knew but he did.
The suspect was nearly going to commit an error.
A big one.
Elias came a step nearer to the window.
Do not intervene.
His jaw tightened.
The gentleman in the suit leaned forward smiling. The man with the strained nod shook his head.
Papers slid across the table.
Elias's chest tightened.
If he signs that, he's ruined.
The conviction got down like a ton weight, indisputable.
Elias's hand twitched.
All it would take was a word. A warning. A small disruption.
Do not intervene.
"Why?" Elias muttered.
The stress became very acute, nearly impatient.
Intrusion changes evaluation.
Assessment.
Elias swallowed.
You are trying me, he said meekly.
No confirmation came. No denial either.
Within the cafe, the pen and paper were in contact.
The tense man signed.
Elias felt something settle. Final. Unchangeable.
The man in the suit smiled more broadly and shook hands. The deal was done.
The feeling of nausea swept Elias.
He turned away, heart racing.
What this was, it did not regard fairness. It was not concerned about saving people. It cared about watching.
About measuring.
He strode on with an attempt to flee the sensation climbing up his spine.
By afternoon, his head ached. In little puffs and stops it came and went the pressure, as though it was a signal in the distance asking whether he was still there.
He ignored it.
On this particular evening, it rained unannounced. Cold and heavy. Elias cowered beneath an awning, where the water swept the Streetlights down to bands of gold.
One of them was talking in a loud voice on his phone.
I said I would do it, when I said that of you, the man flung back at me. "Just give me time."
Elias felt it again.
Strong this time.
Urgent.
The man is lying.
Elias frowned.
The pressure intensified.
"Final instruction."
His breath caught.
"Speak."
Elias stiffened. "You said not to intervene."
"Context changed."
The man terminated his call and turned around, almost bumping into Elias.
"What are you staring at?" he demanded.
Elias hesitated.
Fear surged first. Then something more sure down below it.
You won't make it better lying, Elias said to himself. "And you won't get more time."
The man froze.
Rain pattered around them.
"What did you say?" the man asked slowly.
Elias met his eyes. You have missed your opportunity already. Only truth can possibly work.
Silence stretched.
The features of the man changed--anger, confusion, and there was almost panic.
"...How would you know?" he asked.
Elias didn't answer.
A long moment passed. Then the man swore to himself, took out his phone and made one more call.
His voice was different now. Lower. Honest.
As he walked off his shoulders appeared lighter. Not fixed--but less trapped.
The tension at the back of the eyes of Elias reduced.
"New evaluation, the voice said.
"Eligibility... pending."
Then it was gone.
The rain slowed.
Elias was standing there wet and trembling.
It was real.
Not a dream. Not stress. Not imagination.
Something had rules.
And he was being taught when to be silent...
and when to speak.
Elias exhaled slowly.
In a test, he felt that it had just started.
And the result of failing would cost him more than his job.