We walked briskly down the street, though I kept a few steps behind, taking another bite of the burrito I had scrounged from my apartment earlier. Between bites, I took occasional sips of the now slightly stale white mocha, the artificial sweetness still overpowering, though the warmth had long since faded. The vanilla undertones barely masked the bitterness of the coffee beneath, but at least it gave me something to do while she pretended I didn’t exist.

She didn’t seem thrilled about my presence, occasionally glancing back at me like she was debating whether I was worth acknowledging. I could practically hear the judgment radiating off her, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying my meal.

“So,” I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, “you gonna tell me where we’re going, or am I just supposed to keep following you like some lost puppy?”

She didn’t answer.

I took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. "You know, from an outside perspective, this looks an awful lot like stalking. If you keep ignoring me, I might have to start whispering your name dramatically just to complete the effect."

At that, she exhaled sharply through her nose. "And if you keep talking, I might actually have to report you."

“Well, at least we’re on the same page.”

She didn’t slow down, she just kept moving with the same rigid determination. I rolled my eyes but kept walking, taking another bite of the burrito. It wasn’t just stubbornness keeping me on her trail—somewhere between the stale white mocha and the frozen world around me, I’d realized something. She was the only person I had seen moving, the only thing that broke the rules of this broken reality. If there was a way out of this, she knew it. And that meant, for better or worse, she was my only chance of escaping this mess.

Then, suddenly, she veered off course and ducked into an alleyway between two abandoned buildings. At first, I thought she was finally trying to ditch me, but then I saw what she was running toward.

A woman stood frozen mid-motion, one arm outstretched as a man loomed over her, caught in the act of yanking a purse from her grasp. The entire scene was suspended like a diorama of a crime-in-progress, the woman’s expression locked in startled terror, the thief’s grip unyielding on the bag’s strap.

The girl didn’t hesitate. Reaching into the frozen woman’s purse, she rifled through its contents before pulling out a small black object.

I raised an eyebrow. “Robbing the robbed? That’s bold.”

She shot me a look of electrified annoyance. "Some people get sent to harrassment training after they cross a line. Me? I prefer a more hands-on approach."

I opened my mouth to retort, but before I could, she turned on me, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“Wait—”

Pain exploded through my body before I could finish my sentence. My muscles seized, and I collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut, convulsing as my vision flickered between the alley and a blank haze of white noise. Every nerve in my body screamed, my limbs paralyzed by the surge of electricity coursing through me.

I barely registered hitting the ground before everything faded to black. The last thing I saw was her bending at the knees, tilting her head as she peered down at me, her eyes filled with a mischievous glee.

----------------------------------------

I came to with a dull throbbing in my skull, my vision swallowed by an intense, blinding light—like stepping outside after spending all day in a dark room. The sharp contrast sent a lance of pain through my temples, forcing me to squint as I adjusted. The air smelled like dust and mildew, and something rough bit into my wrists. A chair. I was tied to a chair.

Well. This was new.

My fingers flexed experimentally, and I felt the brittle fibers of rope around my wrists. It wasn’t particularly well done—I could probably slip free with a little effort. I started working on loosening the bindings when movement in the room caught my attention. I froze, my focus shifting upward.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

She stood to the right of me, arms crossed, watching with thinly veiled disappointment. Behind her, rows of old monitors lined the walls, their dim glow flickering erratically. Screens displayed graphs, scrolling lines of code, and maps pulsing with strange red zones, each looking more ominous than the last.

I shifted in the chair, sitting up a bit straighter. "I didn’t know you were into the whole tying-people-up thing. You could've at least bought me dinner first."

She exhaled sharply through her nose, like she was debating whether I was worth the air to argue. “You followed me.”

“You didn’t tell me not to.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s why you got tased.”

I stretched, rolling my shoulders. “Right. So, are we gonna talk about that or pretend it didn’t happen?”

She ignored the question, instead leaning back against the desk and folding her arms. "Do you always deflect serious situations with bad jokes, or is that just a coping mechanism?"

I smirked. "Why not both?"

She rolled her eyes, but instead of answering, she tilted her head slightly. "Who are you? Where did you come from?"

My smirk grew. "Oh, we're doing introductions now? Thought we were past that point."

She didn’t react. Just waited.

I sighed dramatically. "Felix. Just a guy enjoying his breakfast until I got electrocuted and tied to a chair. You know, typical Tuesday."

She didn’t seem amused. "Before that. Where were you before all this? Before time stopped?"

I frowned. "Apartment. Sleeping. Living a boring, uneventful life. Then, boom—silent apocalypse." I raised a brow. "That answer your questions? Or do I need to fill out a form?"

She studied me for a moment before exhaling. "What do you know about what's happening to the world right now?"

I sighed. "Alright, here’s what I know. Plates and food don't rot, even when left in mid-air. Objects freeze the second I let go of them, but when I touch something, it 'thaws' and moves again—except for people and cars. I can move parts of them, but they don't reanimate. And then there’s time itself. I measured it—it's slowed down by a factor of around 96 million. Which means a second for us might as well be a geological era for everything else."

I leaned back in the chair, tipping it onto the back legs. "So yeah, I get that things are completely messed up. What I don’t get is why. And something tells me you’re about to explain it to me in annoyed tone."

She exhaled and pushed off the desk, beginning to pace slowly. "You ever heard of Schrödinger’s Cat?"

I raised a brow. "You mean the one where some guy decided to stress out a cat for science? Yeah, I know it."

She gave me a look. "That’s not exactly—never mind. The point is, it’s an experiment about quantum mechanics. If you put a cat in a box with something that could kill it—a radioactive atom, let’s say—you don’t actually know whether the cat is alive or dead until you open the box. Until it’s observed, it exists in both states at once."

I squinted at her. "And this relates to our current nightmare how?"

She stopped pacing and leaned against one of the desks, crossing her arms. "Because that’s how time works. The future isn’t set in stone until it’s observed. We—Timewalkers—move ahead while everything is frozen, making adjustments to ensure that when time resumes, it collapses into the right outcome."

I leaned back in the chair, rolling my shoulders against the ropes. "So, you’re saying the universe is one giant cat in a box, and you’re trying to make sure it doesn’t keel over?"

She sighed. "More or less."

I nodded, pretending to consider it seriously. "Got it. So… should I start meowing, or—"

Her deadpan stare could have frozen time all over again. "Think of time like building a house."

“You start with a blueprint—a structured plan that dictates the order of events. Foundation first, then framework, wiring, walls, all leading to a finished product. The process can shift slightly—maybe you put in the windows before the floors—but the house still ends up built. That’s how time works. There are variations in how events unfold, but the outcome remains inevitable.”

I would've rubbed my temples, but, fun fact, my hands were still tied behind my back. Real shame—I could’ve really sold the exasperation. "And right now, we’re stuck in the blueprint phase?"

“Exactly.” She turned toward one of the flickering monitors, typing something onto an old keyboard. “Normally, Timewalkers—people like me—move ahead in frozen time, making adjustments to ensure that when time resumes, it aligns with the best possible outcome. When we’re done, it's like a rubber band that snaps back, setting everything in place.”

I frowned, taking in the chaotic data sprawled across the monitors. “And that didn’t happen this time.”

She nodded. “Something broke. The snap never came. Time didn’t resume, and now reality is…” She gestured around us. “…stalled. Stuck mid-construction.”

I leaned against the table, my mind racing. “So, what? Some cosmic contractor went rogue and started ripping up the blueprints?”

She didn’t laugh. “Something is overriding the plans. And I think it’s watching.”

The way she said it sent an uncomfortable prickle down my spine. “Watching how?”

She hesitated before typing something onto the monitor. A still image appeared—a cityscape just like ours, only… distorted. The buildings curved in impossible ways, and shadows stretched toward a point that wasn’t there.

“We’re not the only ones moving,” she murmured.

I stared at the screen, my mouth dry. “And if we don’t stop it?”

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. “Then we’re already too late.”