Chapter 4
1298 Words
The door opened with a slow creak, as if the air itself resisted what was about to come.
On the other side, a face too young for that kind of life.
Sharp eyes. Thin body. Tense shoulders.
“Who…” he started, but the word died before it could form.
Alex did not wait for an invitation.
He pushed the door open hard, his body entering like a predator that had already decided the end of the hunt. In one sharp movement, he pulled the revolver from his waist and pressed it straight against the boy’s chest.
“Close the door.”
The young man froze for a second. Then he obeyed.
The click of the lock echoed louder than it should have.
Silence.
Alex studied the place without moving the gun. Small. Messy. An old computer on a makeshift table. Cables everywhere. A mattress on the floor. Leftover food.
But the detail that mattered was there.
Several screens open. Social media. Comments. Views.
“You posted it, right?” Alex said.
The boy swallowed.
“Y-yes…”
“Relax,” Alex said, without relaxing at all. “If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t be talking to you.”
A partial lie. And they both knew it.
Posto tried to stay composed, but his eyes gave him away. Fear mixed with curiosity.
“I… I didn’t do anything illegal,” he said.
Alex laughed. Short. Dry.
“No?” He tilted his head. “Then what you did today… what was that? Charity?”
Posto hesitated. Alex pressed the gun slightly harder against his chest.
“The photo,” Alex said. “Who gave it to you?”
“I… I took it,” he answered too fast.
Another mistake.
Alex stepped closer. Now they were face to face.
“You’re not good at lying,” he said quietly. “And that’s dangerous.”
Posto took a breath.
“I… wasn’t the only one. But I was the first to post it.”
Alex stayed silent for a few seconds.
Then… he lowered the gun.
But he did not put it away.
“Now we’re talking,” he said.
He walked around the space. He touched the computer. Looked at the data.
“How many followers?”
“Almost… 80 thousand,” Posto answered, still alert.
Alex raised an eyebrow.
“In how long?”
“Three years.”
“Wrong.”
Posto frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“It wasn’t three years,” Alex said, turning to him. “It was three years of playing around. The real growth happened in the last few months.”
Posto did not reply. Alex smiled.
“You’re not just a kid with a phone. You understand timing. Scandal. Reaction.”
He pointed at the screen.
“You know exactly what makes people stop scrolling.”
Posto swallowed.
“I… I just post what people want to see.”
Alex moved closer, slowly.
“No.” Pause. “You decide what they want to see.”
That line stayed in the air.
Posto looked away. Not from weakness… but because he realized he was being read.
And that bothered him.
Alex raised the gun again, but this time he did not aim it. He just spun the chamber with his thumb.
Click.
Click.
Click.
“Let’s be direct,” he said. “How much do you make from this?”
“It depends…”
“It doesn’t depend,” Alex cut him off. “Say a number.”
“About… 500 a month.”
Alex let out a small laugh.
“500?”
He walked to the broken window and looked outside.
“You have 80 thousand people consuming what you post… and you make 500?”
He turned back.
“That’s not a business. That’s exploitation… and you’re the i***t accepting it.”
Posto felt the hit. But he didn’t react. Because he knew… it was true.
“I’m still growing,” he said.
“No,” Alex replied. “You’re stuck. And you didn’t even notice.”
Alex moved closer, pulled a chair and sat on it backwards, resting his arms on the back.
The gun now rested in his hand, casual.
“Let’s do this differently,” he said.
Posto looked confused.
“Differently… how?”
Alex leaned slightly forward.
“Interview.”
“What?”
“I ask questions. You answer. No lies. No acting.”
“And if I don’t want to?”
Alex raised the gun again, but didn’t aim.
“Then we go back to the first version of this conversation.”
Posto nodded.
“Fine.”
Alex took a breath, like he was changing roles.
“First question. Why did you start?”
Posto took a moment and then answered.
“Because no one listened to me.”
Alex didn’t react.
“At home, at school… didn’t matter. I spoke, I was ignored. So I started posting… and suddenly… people listened.”
Alex nodded slowly.
“Wrong reason. But good result.”
Second question.
“Why did you continue?”
“Money… at first. Then… power.”
Alex smiled.
“Now you’re being honest.”
Third question.
“What was your biggest mistake?”
Posto hesitated. Looked at the floor. Then looked up.
“Thinking small.”
Alex stayed still. Then he smiled for real.
“Finally.”
He stood up.
Put the gun away.
For the first time since he entered.
“You’re not stupid,” he said. “You’re just badly positioned.”
Posto blinked, confused.
“What does that mean?”
Alex walked slowly around the space.
“You’re here… in this hole… making crumbs… while controlling attention.”
He turned sharply.
“Attention, Posto… is the most expensive currency in the world. More than money. More than drugs. More than political power.”
He pointed at the computer.
“And you have it… and you’re selling it cheap.”
Posto stayed silent, processing. Alex stepped closer again.
“I can multiply that,” he said. “Not by two. Not by ten.”
Pause.
“By a hundred.”
Posto’s eyes changed.
Right there ambition, but also doubt.
“And what do you get from it?” he asked.
Good question.
Alex smiled.
“Everything.”
Silence.
“You're the face,” he explained. “The creator. The ‘rebellious kid of the internet.’”
He made air quotes.
“But the content… gets direction.”
“Direction?”
“Yes.” Pause. “What to show. When to show. Who to destroy. Who to elevate.”
“That… that’s manipulation,” he said.
Alex tilted his head.
“Congratulations. You just figured out how the world works.”
The rain outside got stronger.
“I don’t want to… get involved in dangerous things,” Posto said.
Alex stepped closer again. Eye to eye.
“You already are.”
Alex paused and then continued.
“The difference… is that right now you’re unprotected.”
That line hit deep. Because it was true.
Alex took two steps back.
“I don’t need you,” he said. “But you… need someone like me.”
He pointed at the door.
“Because out there… there are people who won’t want to negotiate.”
Posto took a deep breath, his mind racing, heart beating fast.
Alex walked to the door.
Stopped.
Without turning back, he said:
“Last question.”
Pause.
“Do you want to be small… or do you want to learn how to control the game?”
Posto raised his eyes.
The answer was forming. But it hadn’t come out yet.
Alex opened the door.
The sound of rain flooded the room.
And he stayed there.
Waiting.
The moment… suspended.
And Posto… about to answer.
- Writer
