9th November 2023
Kufri
Praanvi started to look for the Weekly Post frantically as she dropped her coffee mug. The mug spilled the coffee and started to smear in all her papers and magazines. As she was looking for the paper, her eyes fell on the blistered mug. It wasn't beautiful, nor it had any sentimental value. But for a moment, she reached out to touch the perfect machine-made form, coated in the same colour as her floor. Though it was now in pieces, she still couldn't distinguish the mug from the floor.
The meeting with Adam and his colleagues had just gotten over. She spoke to Riddhi immediately as the latter gave her the suggestion to look for the sender in the envelope. Since the call, she has been searching for the damned newspaper. She hated the word now.
After cleaning her shelf for three more times and searching the attic twice, she finally landed on the newspaper and the envelope to see only her address written.
"So, there's no address. Eff it." She threw the paper in a fit as she stepped down to shower for the first time since she landed in Kufri.
She stepped outside the shower as her feet landed on the marbled floors, which made an imprint of her wet legs as she advanced with each pace. She glanced at her almost empty wardrobe and took the same old pair of black joggers and a white tee, which was almost pale yellow now. She shrugged her shoulders as she massaged her scalp with the towel and made it into a bun when she noticed her doorbell ring continuously.
She cursed herself and stormed out of her room, and switched off the stove before opening the door, only to notice a package. She gasped slightly and took a step back.
Twelve minutes later, she was still looking at the package as she jolted a little, due to the cold. She sat in her little yard and kept her hands to her face, worrying whether to open it or not. Every time she moved an inch forward, she lifted herself back.
Half of the day passed and she noticed the dusk had already come. The last few rays of the day kissed her face as the greens in her yard started to feel colder than the morning. She got up slowly and took the package inside, her heart thumping out to look inside the package.
She went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water as she noticed her Kadi Chawal as cold as the greens in her yard. She kept it inside her refrigerator and took the bottle of orange juice she had got weeks back. A glass of the juice with the package and her palmtop by her side, she was ready for the night.
She opened the covers of the package to find out that it was from someone named Feckle. She furrowed her eyebrows to see a little screen blinking saying "Charge me."
She took the adaptor in the box and plugged it in to see the gadget switching on. She looked at herself on the screen as it started to play a graphic video, people thronging and fighting for lives. Her eyes widened to the maximum as she saw the video end with these words.
The dystopia of the average person is the utopia of the psychopath.
She scrolled to look if there were any other videos or messages as a new one popped up.
Feckle: Respond to this message if you can see it.
Praanvi's fingers trembled in fear as she typed a yes from the touchpad. She couldn't breathe as she felt like someone was choking her. Her heart was racing and all she wanted to do was to curl up and wait for someone to tell her that this was all a prank. A prank that she badly fell for. A choked cry for help forced itself up her throat as she felt a drop run down on her cheek. She felt like this was the end of the road for her.
___
9th November 2023
Triber Headquarters, CA
The air at Triber today was pretty much the same as yesterday, the same as the day before. Tiny improvement is the information about the messages being spread like wildfire, the social networking site promoting the news of the mystery places every single minute. The engagement may even run up to billions, yet no one came forward except for two ladies – one from India and the other from Australia. The company still is trying to pull its ends to meet their boss's expectations but every time they try, they fall hard.
Adam was looking at his subordinates sprinting to and fro to get all the information about the mysterious newspapers. He rubbed his palms and opened his Mac.
In a state of half organized clutter, mahogany desk with three drawers on the right-hand side, swivel chair, mac book pro, several stacks of paperwork, pens in a tin, floor to ceiling bookshelf, books leaning against one another different directions, a filing cabinet with paperwork stacked on top, water dispenser with no cups, his cabinet was shabby which is not likely about Hughes.
He had attended the conference call with the young ladies the previous day but nothing could be deciphered except for the weird addresses he gave in. He opened his mail to see all kinds of junk forwarded to him by his subordinates as he moved them to its right place- trash.
He clenched his wrists tight and closed his eyes, trying to meditate but the addresses wouldn't leave his mind. He immediately closed all the tabs to look at his young wife and him on the beaches of Laguna. He smiled invariably as he noticed someone knock the door. He instantly changed his window to a somber picture as he snapped his fingers to signal him in.
"Sir, there's a package for you," he stuttered as Adam lifted his brow. He got up from his chair and snatched the package, to open it like a little pup, only that his mentality was tensed.
"Uh, thanks, Dave. I'll take it from here," he nodded in understanding as the latter responded, "Sir, should I send someone to clean the cabinet?"
Adam glared at him and signaled in his eyes to get the heck out of the room as Dave hurried. As soon as he saw Dave's shadow leave his sight, he closed all the blinds of his cabinet and opened the package which read "Charge me" with an adaptor inbuilt. He took it inside to plug it in to notice a graphic video of people galloping for breath.
As soon as the little video ended, a message popped up.
___
Feckle: Respond to this message if you can see it.
Riddhi: Hello, may I know who this is?
Feckle: There are six of them in total.
Riddhi: Um, what?
Feckle: This gadget will help you meet your target.
Riddhi wiped the droplets of sweat that passed fell on her face as she grabbed the bottle nearby to hydrate herself. She couldn't believe what she was seeing.
The dystopia of the average person is the utopia of the psychopath.
She kept the gadget aside to text Adam and Praanvi as she waited for their response. Sometimes, it's hard to follow the time zones, she said to herself. She looked at the blinking screen as it popped up another message
"Stay tuned. A lot of dance rehearsals before the actual show."
"It should be a prank, right?" her mobile notification said. Riddhi heaved a sigh of relief that Praanvi replied.
"Let's see if Adam got the same message."
"I hope so. I cannot, my hands are shivering."
She found her home overwhelming. All of the tall shelves, the lamps, the floors, and the wardrobe - they all looked the same! With every step she took forward, Riddhi seemed to have moved nowhere. She would stop, start, take a short run to see if that got her anywhere to get a lead on this, but alas it did not, and she felt a sinking feeling of despair as she realized something she had been denying for the past hour: she was lost.
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YOU ARE READING
The Rubble
غموض / إثارةThis novella is a dystopian thriller. Set in 2023, this story will take you through a world where everything comes to a mere rubble. With only a few buildings standing out amidst all the mud and rock, how will things turn out for the protagonists?