Sai, Veer, and Rhea sat at a faded wooden table outside a small roadside eatery, the dimming light of dusk filtering through the fading chatter of Ramkatha Marg. The weight of the hospital visit–the reality of Mrs. Mishra's injury and the chilling possibility of the app's role–pressed heavily upon them.
Sai stared at the half-empty glass in his hand, fingers curled tightly around it. "The app… it doesn't touch us directly, right? No visible force. But it pushes, manipulates somehow. Somehow, it makes these things happen anyway."
Veer rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Yeah. That feeling is sneaky. It gets under your skin. But is it the app's code programming people's actions, or are people behind the scenes using the app as a puppet? Making things happen in real life?"
Rhea frowned, crossing her arms. "Could be a mix of both. At the end of the day, technology's just a tool. But who's pulling the strings? It's easier than you think to spread fear through an app–especially in a small town like Vishrampur."
Sai clenched his jaw. "And no one can prove a thing. It's just a string of coincidences, but those coincidences have real consequences."
Veer added sharply, "We need to find out more. If it's people pulling strings, we need names. If it's the app's algorithms acting… well, then maybe we can find patterns."
"We start with Rameshwar ji," Sai said. "Mrs. Mishra told us he's been using the app for a while and might know something."
Agreeing, they headed to Rameshwar's modest home on the edge of a quiet lane. Rameshwar greeted them cautiously, his weathered face shadowed by fatigue and worry.
"You want to talk about Starcode AI?" he asked, voice low and steady. "I've had my share of strange messages."
Sai leaned forward, voice earnest. "We want to know everything. What's your experience?"
Rameshwar ji sighed, pulling out his phone. "Not as bad as with Mrs. Mishra, but enough to feel it."
He showed them a saved screenshot: "Your secrets will unravel soon." His eyes flickered with unease. "That one made me watch my back even with people I trust."
Veer nodded. "More?"
He scrolled and displayed another: "Trust no one near you after sunset." The words hung heavy in the fading light.
"It messes with your mind," he admitted. "Makes friends seem like enemies."
Before they could ask more, Rameshwar's expression darkened. "There's another person. An early app adopter. Not deep in its effects but caught enough. Arvind, a schoolteacher."
Rhea tilted her head. "What's his take?"
Rameshwar ji shrugged. "He doesn't buy into the paranoia. Thinks it's a coincidence, fear playing tricks. But he admits the app can get personal."
Sai pressed for details, and Rameshwar ji promised to arrange a meeting.
Later that same day, the trio found Arvind in Shanti Nagar, the quiet, leafy residential quarter northeast of Ramkatha Marg. His modest, timeworn bungalow stood amid narrow lanes shaded by towering banyan trees, its peeling paint and stacks of old books on the porch telling the story of a life lived in calm, reflective solitude.
Arvind was a middle-aged widower, a solitary schoolteacher long known in Vishrampur for his gentle demeanor and skeptical mind. He greeted Sai, Veer, and Rhea warily but invited them inside his cluttered living room lined with faded photographs of his late wife and former students.
Sitting on a worn sofa, he listened attentively as the three avoided mentioning Starcode AI by name. Instead, they introduced themselves as college students researching the effects of social media and apps on small towns. "We're gathering stories about how people react to technology and its role in shaping behavior," Sai explained carefully.
Arvind smiled faintly, clearly amused by their acting but willing to engage. "Well, I don't believe this app controls us," he said with measured skepticism. "But it preys on our fears, that's for sure. I've gotten cryptic messages–once it told me, 'Watch your steps; shadows lurk nearby.' It rattled me, made me glance over my shoulder when there was nothing there."
Rhea frowned. "Has it caused any real trouble? People acting weird, accidents?"
Arvind shook his head. "Nothing concrete. Mostly a psychological game. People's minds playing tricks on them, heightened by fear and coincidence. The danger isn't in the messages themselves but in how people respond."
Sai pressed, "So, no proof the app is more than coincidence and paranoia?"
Arvind shrugged, the skepticism clear. "Exactly. But in Vishrampur, fear spreads fast. And the app's little nudges? They're enough to keep people spooked."
As the sun dipped low, casting long shadows through the windows, Arvind's expression flickered with fleeting unease despite his words. He quietly agreed to continue talking and possibly helping with their research the following morning.
After they left, the three friends walked through the rustling quiet of Shanti Nagar's lanes, exchanging thoughts.
"Arvind's doubtful but honest," Veer said. "We have no proof, just feelings and timing."
Rhea added, "Still, the fear's real, and that can make people slip into danger."
Sai nodded slowly. "Tomorrow, we come back. We need all the pieces if we're going to figure this out."
The night folded over Vishrampur, calm yet charged, as their resolve deepened.
Sai entered his home quietly, the evening shadows stretching across the narrow rooms. The weight of the day hung heavy on his shoulders, swirling with thoughts from their conversations with Rameshwar ji and Arvind. He found his mother sitting alone near the window, her face pale in the fading light.
"Ma," Sai began carefully, "about earlier—I'm sorry for the way I spoke."
She looked up with a tired smile, a softness beneath the weariness. "It's okay, beta. These days wear on us all. I'm scared too... but I keep it inside."
Her hands trembled slightly as she set down a cup of tea and said casually, almost offhand, "by the way, I got a strange message on Facebook today, from a new account. Didn't pay much attention initially, but it told me to tell my son something."
Sai looked up, curious. "What was it?"
She leaned forward, voice low and casual, as if mentioning the weather. "Just this–'Beware, don't pry too much, the watcher knows more than you think.'"
Sai's heart quickened, but she continued as if it was no big deal, "Maybe it's one of those scams I'm hearing about recently. Tell me if you get messages like this as well. These people can really access your money in a heartbeat. We need to be really careful–hm? Sai? What happened?"
"Ah, it's nothing. I was thinking of something else."
Sai motioned with his hand but his head hung low.
He sank back, his mind racing. Outside, the night settled quietly over Vishrampur, but inside the room, an uneasy pulse beat–the watcher's gaze felt closer than ever.