Maurizio blinked when the screen went dark, sure that it all had to be one big confusion, a mistake by the computer. Yet, as the minutes passed and the screen remained dark, he started to get nervous, slowly getting the unnerving feeling that he had screwed up in a big way this time. He tried to turn on his computer, checked the plug and even tried to turn on his laptop, but it was no use. In fact, it seemed like all electricity and electronic devices in his house had suddenly stopped working without as much as a warning. He was at a complete loss as to how that was even possible.

Unless…surely it couldn’t be related to the website he had been browsing? He had heard the rumours, read the warnings of impending doom, but it had to be all lies, everyone knew it to be an urban legend, a tale design to scare naïve people from the east. Could that be related to what was happening now?

He nearly jumped from his seat when he heard a knock on his door. At first he tried to ignore it, remaining still, in an effort to convince whoever was knocking that there was nobody home, but it obviously failed when the knocking insisted, with renewed strength. Then he heard a voice call out, saying six words that instantly froze him:

“Maurizio Tomalini, sapiamo che sei qui.” (Maurizio Tomalini, we know you are here.)

They had called out his name. His name. While knocking on his door. He swore, damning the hour he accessed that website, because now he was certain it was about that. The knocking kept going, each time more insistent, until he heard knocking on the ground floor windows too. It was all so much, so loud, he stood from his seat and retreated from his desk. The knocking stopped.

Then that voice spoke again. “That’s good, now walk slowly towards the door, and open it. There is much to talk about.”

He stood still for what seemed like ages, then the voice called out again. “You don’t want us to start knocking again now, don’t you?” He figured it was all the same, since he was probably surrounded, by the sound of all the previous knocking, and he walked towards the front door. Behind it he found a completely ordinary man, without any distinctive features or anything that would make him stand out in a crowd, yet there was something in him that made Maurizio stand back, as the stranger entered his house, quickly signalling someone else to wait outside.

They both sat in the living room, not before the stranger asked Maurizio for permission to do so, and waiting for him to do the same.

“You know, this is the third time I come to this neighbourhood on official business. It’s quite a record, to have three different people living so close access that website.”

Maurizio said nothing, sitting uncomfortably, finally sure that this was about the website he had foolishly visited. The stranger had obviously noticed, because he briefly chuckled, before continuing the one-sided conversation.

“Alright, let’s go back for a bit. I know this is confusing, often overwhelming, so I’ll take it slow. You accessed a website, one that we constantly monitor, and this means I have to talk with you to know why you did that, and how much you know about the website.”

“Come now, Mr Tomalini.” Said the stranger after a short pause. “I have to ask you these questions, so the less time you take to answer, the sooner we can all wrap this up. First things first: why did you access the website?”

He was going to stay quiet, but there was something in the man’s eyes, something that hadn’t been there earlier, that told Maurizio that his participation in the conversation was not optional, that the result of not answering was something he wouldn’t want to know; so he mustered what little strength he had and answered the question the stranger had posed to him.

“A friend sent it to me.”

“Ah! See, there wasn’t so bad, was it? I obviously already know the name of that friend –we’ll talk to him later today-, but did he tell you anything specific about the nature or contents of the website, before you had a chance to access it?”

“He said he had found it the other day, that I would find it fun.”

He seemed very interested in that, almost to the point of amusement, leaning forward. “Fascinating. And did you?”

“It was a cult website, full of superstitions and revisionism. There was nothing fun about it.” That much was true, even if it downplayed his true feelings about the website. He had found it in terrible taste, glorifying the genocides from decades before and calling for a return to religious extremism in government and society. It was a disgusting ideal, and he had closed the tab as soon as he understood what it was about. It was minutes after that that his power went out.

The stranger nodded. “You obviously know that accessing the kind of website you did is a criminal offence per Royal Order 18193.” He continued, without waiting for a response. “Do you sympathise with the Order of the Bloody Hand, the Cult of Sacur or the Pale Skin Society, Mr Tomalini?”

“What?” That question had disturbed him beyond measure. “I’m not one of the Sacuri, if that’s what you’re asking. I’ve never sympathised with their views, and I know enough history to know that they were insane savages. I have nothing to do with them.”

There was an odd expression in the stranger’s face. It went as quickly as it came, but Maurizio had seen it, and he was struggling to detect what it had been. It wasn’t surprise or happiness, nor was it relief or calmness. Was it…disappointment? Why would the stranger be disappointed that he was not a Sacuri? He had little time to think about it, because the stranger suddenly rose, adjusting his coat and turning towards the door.

“That’ll be all, Mr Tomalini. I strongly advise you to keep the contents of our conversation to yourself. In fact, it would be best if you forgot everything about our visit tonight. As far as the world should be concerned, you forgot to check that website, and that’s the end of the story.”

An uncomfortable silence, before the stranger broke it again. “Does that sound acceptable?”

Maurizio slowly nodded, remaining seated, relieved that he was finally being left alone. The stranger reached the door, opened it and walked through it, turning left and disappearing into the night. In the distance, Maurizio could distinguish the sound of a vehicle of some kind starting, and soon the night was again as quiet as it had been before this whole affair started. It had been insane, but so many questions still remained. Who had been that man? Who did he work for? He was obviously from the government –only they could possibly have such technology and manpower to get to him minutes after accessing the website-, but for which agency did he even work? Was he in any kind of danger or surveillance now?

He had remained still this whole time, sitting on his couch in the living room, in the same position that he had been during the conversation with the stranger, submerged in his thoughts until an incessant knocking brought him back to reality. There was someone at the door, knocking for nature knows how long, and there he was, concerned that it was the stranger, somehow having decided to take him. Eventually the knocking stopped, he heard his door unlock, and he saw another completely regular looking person, a woman this time, stepping inside, followed by three men.

“Mr Maurizio Tomalini?”

Internally, he wanted to scream, run away, anything but stay still as this happened all over again. Instead, he opened his mouth, found it too dry, and closed it again, staring intently at the woman instead. Her demeanour projected a no-nonsense style, but her facial expression, especially her eyes, made her seem like a rather pleasant person. He had the impression that both were conscious decisions on her part.

“I will take that as a yes.” She said, approaching the couch, and standing right in front of it. One man was next to her, the other two were at the door. “My name is Roberta Gentiloni. I work at the Royal Eastern Security Service, and I would like to ask you some questions about the man who just left your house.”