Chapter 8: Storm.

"Takahashi…"

"Takahashi, can you hear me?"

Ren was sitting in his chair, staring at his food, and his soda was still unopened.

Mr. Nomura gave his shoulder a tug, pulling him back to the present.

"Are you okay?"

Ren’s eyes scanned the whole room in confusion, until finally resting on his boss.

"Mr. Nomura…"

"Kid, you had me worried. You’ve been sitting there staring at your food for twenty minutes without moving."

Ren had to answer something, and fast.

"Yes, I just got caught thinking about some corrections. I didn’t realize."

Nomura put on his coat and gave him a few last words.

"Well, anyway. Don’t stay too late today, the weather service says the storm will get much worse."

"Yeah… yeah, alright. I’ll just finish compiling the last data and I’ll leave early." he replied nervously.

His boss looked at him one last time.

"Are you sure everything’s okay?"

Ren gave him a forced smile.

"Yes, don’t worry. Have a good weekend." he replied while watching him leave the office calmly.

He brought his nose closer to the food, as if trying to find that smell of ash that had been tormenting him.

"I’m sure one of them put something with a bitter taste in it."

Then he picked up the chopsticks and slowly took a portion of rice. His hand trembled as he slowly brought it to his mouth.

He chewed calmly, waiting for the taste to scrape his throat as it went down, while his face only showed uncertainty.

"It’s cold…" he murmured.

Then he ate a piece of meat.

"It needs salt…"

He opened his soda, the same one he drank every day. He took a small sip and the bubbles made his throat tingle and, yes, the taste was the same as every day.

He got up from his chair and walked to the bathroom. There he approached the trash bin and started searching through the papers, empty packages, and other waste, until he pulled a can out from inside.

He stared at it. It was the same kind he always drank.

But… was it the same one he had drunk?

He smelled it, searching for that ash scent that had him intrigued. But when he didn’t feel it, he turned the can around looking for some mark he might remember, something that could set it apart from the rest.

He even checked the expiration date, vaguely remembering the numbers, to see if they matched.

"What am I doing…?"

He crushed the can and threw it back into the trash.

"You’re just wasting your time, Ren…" he said to himself, looking at the mirror.

He returned to his workstation and looked at the office clock. No one was left anymore… only the relentless wind hitting the windows and the snow falling without rest.

His eyes returned to the monitor. A new mail icon was blinking nonstop.

When he opened it, his personal email loaded quickly. In his inbox, between promotions, discounts, and spam, there was a ticket pending review.

Pull Request #316 – Changes requested.

Ren frowned.

"Changes? That can’t be…"

Seventeen comments.
Three failed tests.
Build status: Error.

And below everything, one last message from Yadav:

"Check the comments when you can."

Without hesitation he opened the program, curious to see those supposed errors.

His heart began to race.

He checked the history, and there it was, there was no doubt.

Last entry – Takahashi Ren – 15:30

"Impossible…"

"I don’t make mistakes…"

He checked again, just to make sure what he was seeing wasn’t a bad joke. Then he opened his laptop, to compare it with the copy he always guarded carefully.

He compared the lines, while following the structure with his fingers.

Line by line.

Everything matched or almost everything.

His fingers stopped on one specific line.

An almost imperceptible error, an extra space.

Ren leaned back against the chair and took out his lighter, trying not to give in to his impulses.

The click of each movement helped him regain control.

He knew he never left unnecessary spaces… those errors seemed too absurd for someone like him.

He placed the cursor over that space and pressed the Delete key, with more force than necessary.

The line was clean and only sixteen observations remained on the counter.

Ren looked at the clock on the wall again. To his surprise, it was 18:30.

"I’d better talk to Mr. Río…"

He picked up the phone and called the security desk at the entrance.

There was no answer.

Slowly, Ren hung up the phone again while his eyes stopped on another error, this time, a repeated letter.

He looked at the counter… fifteen errors remaining.

He kept reading and correcting his coworker’s observations until the counter dropped to ten errors.

He was no longer sure if the exhaustion was playing tricks on him or if he had really been so absorbed in his work that he had never noticed them.

How could someone as obsessed with perfection as him make such absurd mistakes?

It almost seemed on purpose.

His hand began to feel numb, it was getting harder and harder to type.

Was it discomfort? Pain in the cartilage? It felt more like a kind of ache.

He looked at his improvised bandage. Maybe the cut was taking its toll.

He tried to drink from his energy drink can to focus better.

Not a single drop.

"Great… just what I needed." he thought, throwing the can into the bin.

His eyes returned to the lines, until one error felt familiar.

Again it was a blank space… but the most disturbing thing was the counter.

"Sixteen pending errors? Wasn’t I on the ninth?"

No matter how much he blinked or how much he wished the number would change… there they were… sixteen pending errors.

A loud crash was heard outside, as if something had slammed hard against the large front window.

The lights flickered slightly.

"Damn… the storm…"

He looked at the clock and this time it read 21:30.

Once again he lifted the phone trying to contact the guard.

For a few seconds he heard absolutely nothing.

Then only the sound of static came through.