The afternoon air felt heavier than usual as Sai walked the cracked pavement near Patel bazaar. Each step seemed louder inside his head, echoing the quiet turmoil swirling within.
His mind raced, replaying every detail: his mother's cryptic Facebook message, Veer's fatal injury warning, the tenacious app refusing to be uninstalled from his phone. It wasn't just technology. It was an invasive presence, shadowing his every thought.
He glanced around furtively, sensing eyes in every corner–some real, some imagined. Was there someone watching him? Was there a camera around?
The worn college walls, the faded streetlights, even the quiet homes lining the narrow lanes seemed to close in around him.
Every CCTV camera's dull red light now felt like a glaring beacon, each one watching, recording, owning fragments of his life. This constant surveillance was not merely about safety anymore. It reverberated deeper, changing how he moved, how he felt, like an unseen leash tightening its grip.
Sai's breath grew shallow. He realized the fear was not only of what the app might do but of what it was already doing. Changing him. Making him second-guess every move, every whispered conversation, every glance over his shoulder.
He thought back to Veer and Rhea, their shared nods of cautious resolve, their plans to meet without phones to escape the ever-listening eyes. But even as hope stirred, it was fragile–easily shattered by the app's omnipresence.
As Sai approached his modest home, a cold shudder ran down his spine. In the dim light, the watcher felt no farther than the next shadow.
Inside, silence greeted him. Alone with his thoughts, Sai sank into a restless night, knowing the real battle was just beginning–and that every step forward came with unseen cost.
As he was grappling with growing paranoia, walking mindlessly, he was shaken awake by a notification tone. Hurriedly, he took out his phone and his heart sank when he saw that the notification was from the dreaded app.
This one, however, appeared to be significantly different from anything else.
The notification from StarCode AI read, sharp and simple: "Child in danger near Patel Bazar. Act immediately."
The chilling gravity in those words propelled him forward faster than thought.
As he rounded the corner into the bustling marketplace, the scent of frying spices and worn leather filled the air, mingling with the rising noise of late afternoon chatter and clattering carts.
But Sai's eyes were fixed ahead, drawn to a small figure darting precariously through the crowd.
Aman was no stranger to Vishrampur's winding streets, a skinny seven-year-old with tousled black hair and bright, curious eyes that sparkled even against the grime of his worn village clothes. He lived in a cramped hut two lanes over with his grandmother, who barely managed to support her small household after losing her son years ago.
The boy was a frequent sight near the market, chasing cats and dogs or running errands–but always at risk amid the chaotic traffic of mopeds and carts.
On this day, Aman's attention was captured by a stray dog scavenging near a pile of discarded vegetables, his tiny legs weaving between legs and obstacles without looking.
Suddenly, a motorbike roared from a blind corner, its rider distracted and using his phone with one hand. Sai's breath caught. Time blurred as he sprinted forward, muscles straining, heart pounding in his ears.
With a desperate reach, Sai grabbed Aman's arm and yanked him back just as the bike skidded past where the child had been moments before, crashing heavily against a rickety stall. The rider was thrown off balance but escaped with bruises.
Aman clung to Sai, wide-eyed and trembling. "Thank you, bhaiya," he whispered, voice barely audible over the lingering crowd.
Sai's heart pounded, an adrenaline rush mingled with relief. Instinctively, he shouted at the biker, who was just standing back up, "are you BLIND or something? You could have just hurt a CHILD!"
Some stall-owners nearby rebuked the biker as well while he profusely apologized.
In Sai's mind, however, a cold undercurrent was brewing. Was this a warning, or this intervention, an act of kindness from the app? Or manipulation to keep him tethered?
As the crowd resumed its flow, Sai asked the child again, "are you all right?"
Little Aman nodded his head, dusted off his clothes and stared down at Sai's phone as his screen blinked to life with a new message:
"Job well done, Sai. Follow the path, and safety will be yours."
"That mascot is so cute, bhaiya. What game is this?"
Sai's breath caught, uncertainty curling inside him like smoke. Forcing a smile, he replied, "this is a very bad game. I'm always losing this."
"Can I play? Maybe, you're just bad at it?" Aman asked again with growing curiosity.
Sai forced another laugh as he said, "nobody should play this game. It's very dangerous…" before he started walking back home again.
His mind was racing. Was the praise for pulling Aman out of harm's way? Or for submitting to the app's chilling obsessions earlier that day? The boundary between guardian and puppet blurred.
As he walked home, shadows lengthened around him, and the watcher lingered close.
Sai's mind churned endlessly, caught in a maelstrom of questions and fears. The app was no longer just a faceless threat lurking in the shadows of his phone—it had morphed into a complex enigma, a twisting puzzle that seemed to shift and pulse with every message. It wasn't simply about good or evil, right or wrong anymore. To Sai, it had become a matter of survival, of knowing what each silent notification really meant, each coded hint of a thread he had to follow before the next warning sealed someone else's fate.
Walking back home through the ramshackle streets of Vishrampur, the weight pressed heavier on his chest.
The app's voice, the eerie, relentless watcher, had tangled itself with his thoughts, breeding a hypervigilance that made even familiar paths feel foreign.
Every corner held unseen eyes; every passing shadow felt laden with hidden menace. But beneath that tightening coil of paranoia, began to grow a reluctant acknowledgment, this watcher, invasive and cold, might also be watching for a reason.
The thought unsettled Sai deeply. Could this entity that ensnared him in its digital web also guide him? Could it possibly protect rather than just threaten? The lines blurred, and confusion gnawed at his resolve.