Free to go anywhere. Always followed.
A claustrophobic feeling looms underneath the night sky. Outside but unable to fly.
Eyes on my back. I can turn around but see nothing. Only to be seen myself. There is no escape, no choice but to continue. Go on, keep my mind off all else. When I stop, I will fall.

I can feel the breath of the lifeless cameras. They know me better than I do.
I might not be in the spotlight, but I am still dimly illuminated. Even if he is being tailed by more, there are still a few who trace me. Never alone. Always lonely.

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As César ran through the deserted alleyway he felt the familiar feeling of unease rise up in his stomach. It was a constant irritation for him, but this time he sensed it was more dangerous. Instead of watching them, they were now studying him. There was no escape, only avoidance. César jumped over a ledge and tripped. He had been inside the headquarters for so long, he was out of shape. César crashed hard to the smooth stones of the street. He did not scrape his elbow, for the ground was not rough enough… but a painful bruise immediately started to form. César was genuinely happy with it. Another thing to distract him from the situation.

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My name is César. I work at the Avalon Headquarters and I was sent to help Barthélémy Karas. Everyone and everything knows how I look and age is of no importance here. My mission is to reach Karas before something else does. No one knows of this. Karas was meant to work alone. Completely alone. I am his shadow.

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César was not armed. He had no weapons but his brain. As a scientist, he needed no defense or attack. He was the mid-way. What some called cowardice… what some called intelligence. César’s strength was to run for his life and let nothing block him.
The man swiftly got up and was on his feet again before fully falling. He smashed around the first street corner he saw, only to gain more bruises. He did not stop to breathe or to look back. César quickly ascended a pair of ladders hanging against a building and found himself on the glistening rooftop. He had no clue if he was being chased from behind or from the front, but he did not think about it. He knew how to confuse them. César broke into a sprint and flexibly jumped onto the roof of the next building. Were they watching him from below or above? He did not think about it. Living so closely together with technology was making time speed backwards instead of ahead. They were back to carrier pigeons. Hence César’s nickname. Pigeon A1. No transaction could be made from a distance now. Only a close ear-to-ear whisper would not be heard.

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My message? I am no fool. I am risking my life to deliver these precious words to Karas, so I shall certainly not tell you.

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César leaped to the following roof and the one behind it. He was not losing his pursuers, only hiding his motives. If the street stones had been smooth, the rooftops were slippery. It was hard for César to keep his feet steady, but he noticed he was already getting used to it again. Even if he had spent many months inside in a laboratory, running was something he would always be able to do. He had no permission to interact with anyone or to disrupt anything. Still, the next jump César made was trough a large window. He crashed into an empty office without cutting himself. César raced into the corridor, neatly avoiding the few people who were walking in it. If he was to break protocol, he better do it with respect. The Pigeon slowed down and calmly stepped into another room. There were at least twelve people, engaged in a business meeting. César ignored the group, they ignored him. César gently opened the window and let himself slip outside. He dropped two stories, since that was how high he had gotten, and ran back into the building through the front door. There were only elevators leading up, but there were stairs going down. The basement was obviously most important. The Pigeon flew down the stairs and entered a busy hall. Picking the first door on the side he saw, César found himself running down a narrow corridor. It abruptly ended at a heavy door. It did not take much effort to push the door open and soon César was in an underground passage way. It was steeply descending, and César let himself slide down over the polished floor. It was no primitive cave. It resembled a cleanly built tube, seeking its way underneath Paris. César was not traveling by lucky guesses. He had everything planned out, and knew exactly where he was going.

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I don’t know if I can outsmart systems that have more knowledge than I will ever have. As a scientist, this is the only question I can never answer. All I can do is try. Live forever or die trying. Run on or die trying. I often wonder if death will set me free. Still, how can I know without attempting to die first? The last answer of life lies beyond death, and I will reach it once life wants to get rid of me. I do not expect that to be soon, but once death comes to me, I will be ready. Maybe death is like the Paris nights. Dark and imprisoning. I am not afraid, because nothing can be worse.

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César spun out of the corridor and rolled over the glass of the sewers. Even though he was removed from the filthy water by layers upon layers of steady glass, César could smell the rotten air. Scrambling to his feet again, César dashed down the sewers, following the stream. He passed by seven ladders and choose the eight to climb up. He silently emerged in the middle of the square in front of the Eiffel tower. The Pigeon was not hired for dramatic effects. To look over the area and threateningly walk up to its goal. Instead, Ceaser did not let his feet rest and jumped the man standing in front of him.
“Pigeon A1 reporting.” He breathed into Karas’ ear.

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I never delivered my message. A cold grip spread through my body. As if a million eyes were penetrating my blood. Who ever said a look can not kill?

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Paris locked itself from the outside world. Paris turned its eyes inside on itself.
A pure look of darkness and enclosure, all concentrated on one person. It takes your breath away. Makes your heart stop.