Inside the dark parking lot, the creepy mutter falls to the background.
“The old man is watching,” a voice whispers, sounding like a passing wind.
“Yes, yes, b-b-but he doesn’t see a-a-anything,” a second voice replies, stuttering.
“But he might.”
“Yes, y-y-yes, he might.”
“We must get rid of him.”
“Yes, w-we will, but not now, n-n-not now.”
“Yes, y-y-yes,” the first voice imitates the second.
There’s silence.
“He-he-he-he,” the first voice laughs at his own ass-holeness.
“Rashid, we are ch-ch-chosen, w-we have an important mission to accomplish, who-who are you to joke?”
“You know who I am!” Rashid thunderstorms.
“M-m-master!” the second voice cries.
“He-he-he-he,” Rashid laughs again.
Robert’s apartment is not the only one with the lights on this late. The skyscraper apartment complex, Ark Ville, has several other windows beaming light.
At 11:36 p.m., Robert is in his pyjamas and is brushing his teeth. At 11:40 p.m., he’s preparing his bed. And then at 11:43 p.m., he switches the lights off. The rest of the Ark Ville windows snap dark too in a space of seconds, and by 11:45 p.m. all the building’s lights are off.
The street lights, strobe lights, traffic lights and other lights in the city stay on for the next fifteen minutes. And then at midnight, everything shuts down.
The lights return at 4 a.m. but the official waking up time in the city is six, and anyone who’s caught awake when they shouldn’t be gets a warning. Three warnings is a kick out of Daylight City. And since the city’s conception, no one has received even one warning. Talk about obedience.
At 06:23 a.m. Robert opens his curtains and takes some time adoring the architecture of everything in his sight, including the parking lot.
“Oh, you beautiful devil,” he says.
Someone knocks on the door.
“Who is it?” Robert says as he goes to open.
There’s no response.
He opens and sees a smiling middle aged Indian guy wearing a black vest, blue Puma shorts and red chuck tailors.
“Good morning Mr Kitana,” the Indian guy says.
“Morning,” Robert says, confused.
“I like your beard, it’s dearly ugly,”
Robert says nothing.
“He-he-he-he-he,” the Indian laughs.
Robert shakes his head and tries to shut the door on the Indian’s face but he blocks it with both hands.
“Wait, wait, wait,” the Indian guy says. “I’m sorry for being rude my good sir, I’m a joking man. My name is Rashid Kamar Jamal Maharaj and I am here to deliver a message from Mayor Andy.”
“Speak,” Robert says.
“He said to tell you to stop looking out the window at night.”
Robert freezes.
“Thank you sir,” Rashid pulls Robert’s door shut.
***
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