Without any real reason to return to his apartment, Paulo decided to head to the bar where he had been the previous night, near the beach. They used to stay open 24 hours, and strangely, he had found some loose change in one of his pants pockets, as if it were a relic from a time when money still flowed, unburdened by catastrophe. Honestly, he couldn’t even remember where he might have gotten this cash, as he always paid by card or phone.

Chaos seemed to have its own rules. While the world appeared to be crumbling, the bar remained open, a beacon amidst the darkness. Even the city's blackout hadn't affected it; the place was lit by candles, casting a shadowy and almost medieval aura. Paulo couldn't help but notice that the bar was holding some kind of "liquidation," pouring out the last of the cold beer kegs before they went bad, like everything else in a world without power.

He sat at a table with a view of the sea, watching what had been violent waves the night before now transformed into a serene calm. The waters were so still that he could see fish swimming between the deck planks—completely out of context, considering the fury with which the sea had raged during the meteorites fall.

There, in the candlelight, surrounded by the eerie silence enveloping the city, Paulo began to overhear rumors. The conversations of the few patrons who had braved the darkness for a drink were, in reality, a collection of grim reports. They spoke of hospitals in disarray, patients who had died when life support systems failed during the night. The power hadn’t just disappeared; it was as if the world itself had stopped working.

"This isn’t real," Paulo thought, trying to keep his sanity. It was a nightmare, but the kind of nightmare you can’t wake up from. Disaster movies always showed this sort of thing—the total collapse of systems, panic in the streets—but in real life, people always found a way. There was always someone to fix things. But not now. The chaos seemed final, a line no one knew how to cross back over.

The bartender appeared beside him, looking worried, asking if he wanted something to eat. Paulo said yes, but the man was blunt: “Cash only, no cards or Pix. The system’s down. We're back to old-school, my friend.”

Luckily, the money Paulo had found was enough to get three rounds of cold beer, along with fries and fish bites, which were on sale while supplies lasted.

Paulo drank as if it were his last pleasure in a dying world, each cold sip a temporary relief amidst the darkness. The tension was palpable, but he tried to ignore it, enjoying the moment before stepping back into the warped reality waiting for him outside. By the time he finished, the day—or what was left of it behind the dense clouds of ash and fog—was nearly over, the dim, almost no existent, light slowly giving way to a full night once more.

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He walked back to his apartment, the feeling of being watched growing with every step. The city was becoming increasingly deserted. When he reached his building, he noticed something strange: the doorman wasn’t there. Instead, a man he recognized as Davi, one of the residents, was sitting in the guard booth. Davi had a serious, almost grim expression, and only then did Paulo realize the building was in some sort of emergency mode.

“Where’s André?” Paulo asked, referring to the usual doorman. Davi shook his head, his face a mix of concern and exhaustion. “He hasn’t come back since last night. We had a meeting this morning and decided to take turns here to keep the building secure. You should join in, you know? It’s not safe without someone watching.”

Paulo dodged the suggestion quickly. “I... can’t. I’m moving at the end of the week. Not sure how that’ll work now, but... I don’t think it makes sense to join the rotation.”

Davi just shrugged and turned his attention back to the candle burning near the booth. “Well, if you change your mind, my shift will last as long as these candles, almost an hour each” he said, pointing to the half-melted stubs beside him.

Paulo felt a chill as he entered the building and his apartment. There was no longer any sense of safety. Without electronics, without cameras, without automatic locks—anyone could get in. An invisible fragility permeated everything, as if the darkness was always lurking, waiting to take over completely. He decided to take precautions: he dragged the heaviest dresser in his room to the front door, creating an improvised barrier. Any intruder would have to deal with brute force, and Paulo wasn’t willing to take any risks, locking the door as best as he could.

Since there was no light in his apartment, Paulo didn’t bother blocking his windows, especially since he lived on the fourth floor and the building’s façade was completely smooth, making it impossible for anyone to climb. And even if someone tried, the previous tenant must have had a small child or a pet; all the windows had safety bars, providing a bit more peace of mind.

Still without electricity, he took a cold shower, which, ironically, felt comforting amid the oppressive heat of that strange day. He dressed for bed, but the silence in the apartment was unbearable. Without the constant hum of the modern world, the darkness seemed alive, dense, as if something was moving in it.

Just before he drifted off, he heard the church bells again, marking 6 p.m. He forced himself to relax, to let his thoughts fade away. There wasn’t much else he could do. Sleep came quickly.

But rest didn’t last long.

Minutes, maybe hours later, Paulo was jolted awake by a disturbing sound. Screams. Distant screams, filled with pain and fear, as if coming from all directions at once. He woke with his heart racing, trying to discern the source of the noise. The voices seemed to be coming from the street, echoing between the buildings, mixed with a sort of dry, repetitive sound, like something—or someone—being struck.

Panic seized him. He ran to the window and looked out into the street but saw only shadows and distant figures running toward parallel streets. The screams continued, sporadic, growing louder and more desperate, coming closer and closer to his building. Something was happening, something terrible. Survival instincts kicked in, and he backed away from the window, pressing himself against the wall, breathing heavily.

The world was collapsing for real now, and Paulo no longer knew if he’d have a place in it when the chaos finally ended—if it ever would.