Marek was at the café earlier than Akira was supposed to meet him. He sat at a table by the window, placed his bag on the chair beside him, and opened the photos of symbols he collected in the past few days on his phone. Cautiously, he went through the photos, scanning for something he had never seen before. Questions swirled in his mind.
He was holding a paper cup of coffee in his hand, breathing slowly.
Akira arrived right on time. She sat and only ordered tea initially. She gazed at his phone, showing one of Marek's photos. She glanced across at him and spoke:
"I have seen this in three places in the city. On a wall near the park, on the entrance of an old home, and on the facade of a shop. The hue and the line thickness were different, but the underpinning was the same."
Marek nodded. "I saw that too. Right where I live. At first, I thought it was graffiti. Then I saw the same in a client's design bid."
Akira sighed. "That isn't coincidence. If it shows up in formal documents too, someone is sharing it more widely, or there's a wider distribution."
Marek also sighed. "I don't care for that. I usually have logical answers. Now I only have logical questions."
Akira leaned forward. "What do you think about it?
"I don't know," said Marek. "I feel… something's happening with my answers. The lights, the telephone, the cigarette. I explain it as tiredness, as coincidence. But it happens too often."
Akira placed her hand on the table. "Give me concrete examples. Exactly."
Marek spoke slowly, word by word. He told her of the cigarette that lit without a lighter. Of the flickering lights in his apartment. The doors that opened when he was nearby. The phone that played the recordings by itself. Akira listened. When he finished, she asked:
"Do you think you called it forth?"
Marek frowned. "I don't know. I don't wish to admit that I may be doing something intentionally. Most of the time, it's split seconds I cannot help."
Akira nodded. "There is a difference between what you do intentionally and what happens when something is awakening. If you allow that, we can watch it systematically. If you refuse it, you'll suppress it, and the condition will become more resistant."
Marek looked out the window. The street was fairly populated. Passersby went by, no one knew them. His mind revisited old news articles that seemed to suggest something, and the photocopies he had made at home. Written down were names of guilds, descriptions of meetings, short notes attached to the symbols. Only him and Akira had caught on. Maybe someone else.
"What do you think?" he asked.
We go there, Akira indicated. "There are some of the symbols still left. If we research them on the walls themselves, we can tell if they were newly painted or not. We can take notes and cross materials. I want to see the symbols myself."
Marek stopped. "I will not do something I am unable to manipulate. And I don't want other people to think I am lying.".
Akira smiled slightly. "I'm not concerned with performances. I'm concerned with facts. If they're facts, they'll hold true in front of others too."
After a moment of silence, Marek nodded. "All right. Tell me where we start."
Akira pulled out a printed map of the city from her backpack, which had been downloaded from the internet. She pointed to several locations where the symbols had drawn her eye in particular. "We start here. There are a few older houses whose plaster is good at retaining marks. We can look at the first three locations. If we're fortunate, we might find variations. If not, then we have the archive as the next possibility."
Marek grabbed a pen and scribbled it down in his notebook. "I don't want this getting out. If someone is following these symbols and sees that we're copying them, they may alter their patterns. I want us to go slow."
Akira nodded. "Okay. We'll start quietly and systematically. I have some acquaintances in the library. I'll take a survey. You'll cross-compare photographs and dates. Then we'll evaluate."
As they left the café, Marek relaxed. The talk brought the matter closer. His panic thoughts were slower. While walking home, he carefully surveyed the streets.
He saw a mark on the door of an apartment complex. He stopped, leaned forward, ran his finger over the roughness of the plaster. He could sense the paint was old. The pores of the plaster were weathered. This was not recently done. He jotted that down and moved on.
At night, small changes came back in his apartment. The kitchen lamp switched off when he sat at the table. It switched back on after two seconds. He had no clue why. Akira's soothing voice when she talked about proof flashed in his mind. Questions emerged in his mind, unresolved.
The following days were slow. Each morning brought new little inconsistencies. Some he could just brush off, others he was not prepared for. There had been one incident at a bus stop when a disconnected call resurfaced on its own and played a small portion of an uninitiated voice.
That video was nothing more than a faint echo and the same geometric pattern etched into his brain. Other, older photographs of the symbol surfaced online from other urban centers. Marek bookmarked them.
Akira reached out to people in the library and talked to some archives online. They exchanged emails in encrypted messages. Their conversation became filled with more questions.
The more questions, the more method. Records, dates, note cards, sources. Marek worked on comparing the graphics. Akira searched for names.
Akira showed up one afternoon with results. They sat on a park bench. People walked by them. Akira spread a map over her lap and placed photocopies from the archive on it.
We found traces of groups which formed in the 19th century. They were small guilds, not a single organization. They used symbols to identify members. The extant records are few. Predominantly they are records of meetings, lists, and rituals described very superficially. Most intriguing is that the symbols vary, but have a basic structural coherence. At times it's a circle, at other times transverse lines. They are not random graffiti.
Marek scanned one of the minutes. The wording was simple-names, dates, places. In one of the records, a name caught his eye that was referenced in others.
"A name?" he asked.
"There is a name. They used it to call the individual who maintained the spots where they conducted their meetings. It's not a name of a god. It's a name of a human being. In the previous documents, it's observable that someone maintained those spots and marks. As if memory was kept alive."
Marek nodded. "So there were people maintaining the symbols. In some way connected to the sites."
Akira went on: "Yes. So that means that the symbols may be older than we thought, or someone's been maintaining them on a regular basis.".
Marek fell silent for a moment. "One other thing. While I was researching this, I had. other reactions. A few days ago, someone called me. Spoke about this symbolism, intimated that someone was following the marks. Left no number.".
Akira frowned. "It sounds like there's a group of people dealing with these signs. Either they want to reach more people, or protect someone. The question is whether we're passive observers or active participants."
Marek asked another question. "And what about me in all this?"
Akira looked at his face closely. "You're tied to the changes. I don't know if you're chosen, or a tool, or if it's coming from you or through you. But we can't deny the connection. I don't want it to kill you."
Marek grew suspicious. "I don't need protection. I need us to understand this.".
Akira agreed. "Let's set boundaries. Public tests only if they're safe. Internal experiments behind closed doors. We'll document every phenomenon. And if necessary, we'll find experts we can trust."
Marek appeared determined. "We'll take it a step at a time. No exaggeration. I'll learn to recognize when something happens beyond my will and when I can control it."
Akira stood. "That's how it will be. We'll take another week to map the sites and archives. Then decide on the next steps."
Marek stood too. "And if things worsen?"
"We tell each other. And we'll do whatever it takes to keep it from spreading further," Akira said.
They left slowly, step by step. Marek felt the pace had slowed. The dialogue had given them the same map.
He thought ahead in his mind what to do next. Between the papers, he noticed his anomalies were real. Some responded to his presence. He did not know if they were responding to emotion, thought, or something deep.
At home that night, he sorted the pictures out. Compared symbols side by side. Made files by place, date, and type of surface. Then he noticed something he had not seen before.
In others, it was left intact. That implied someone was taking care of them, or that their construction took place at various times.
Marek understood another chapter in his life had started. It wasn't a chapter that came with golden signs or clean answers.
It was a chapter with questions that he would dedicate himself to. He decided he would be cautious. He decided he would keep records. He decided he wouldn't leap into things.
When bedtime came, he glanced over his phone for the last time. No secret numbers, no calls. Only Akira's messages with archive data and locations.
He sent her a comparison file of the photographs. She replied: "10:00 tomorrow at the gate to the old bakery. Bring your notes."
Marek lay back and stared into the darkness. He had a mental checklist. Number one: map locations, compare the glyphs, find names in the archive, note abnormalities, maintain boundaries.
He was aware that he would need to have stronger evidence than he could present to anyone else. He realized that he would need to learn to dominate the small influences. And he knew he would not advance hurriedly.
He wrapped up with the sense of things occurring, but gradually and precisely. He was to learn step by step—not just about the symbols, but how to respond to the change within himself.
The first step was simple: collect facts and keep conversation flowing. The second was possible: go see the places. The third step remained a mystery.