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This book was rated Mature Content. Not because of violence, not because of inappropriate scenes. Because, sensitive topics are mentioned. Different languages are used too according to the language in South Africa — a lot of slang.

South Africa, Cape Town; it was night. The darkness surrounded the place those individuals had gathered up in. The weather was ever so slowly becoming something out of a horror movie: pouring, cold and thundering. The sky roared and cried to no ends. And when it had stopped, it had already been late in the night. The neighbor's dog began barking non-stop.

"And... I'm going to murder someone." The voice was eerily low — dangerous. Anger laced in every word said. With that, a knife was in hand and an irked expression plastered on the pale-faced individual.

She slammed the fridge closed, "Who ate my chocolate cake!"

Malieka. Nineteen. Female.

Date of birth: 30 January 2001

"Wasn't me," responded an individual. The young female snapped her head towards this person with a face distorted with pure rage. Her eyes landed on another female's gray-green eyes. Despite being glared at, she was quite calm and smiled just as easily as she denied the sin of eating someone else's chocolate cake.

Fayola. Nineteen. Female.

Date of birth: 7 April 2001

"Wasn't me either." It was a male voice this time; she looked at the young man with narrowed eyes. He put his hands up in defense, "Can you put the knife down now? Asablief, tog." [1]

Aidan. Twenty. Male.

Date of birth: 17 April 2000

"I won't put this down until I figure out who stole my cake and stab them to death!" Malieka exclaimed. Her cake was very important to her heart.

A nonchalant voice was heard, surprising everyone: "I ate it. Please, kill me."

They stared at the brunette with dark and deep bags. With that, she had a cup of coffee in her hands and sat in a corner for who knows what reasons. "Mood."

Mimi. Nineteen. Female.

Date of birth: 24 November 2001

Malieka tore her gaze off her, seemingly much calmer. "Okay, it was definitely not her either." She shook her head and put the sharp tool on the counter. "How long has she been there?" Aidan whispered, pointing at the girl in the corner. The two responded with a shrug. "Ek weet nie." [2]

Fayola, a young lady with a dark complexion and gray-green eyes, caught purple in the corner of her eyes. The dark-brown haired female knew who it was by those colors and the sound of slippers hitting the floor. As she turned around, she found her guess right.

A person with short, black, unruly hair — not as unruly as Mimi's — and blue eyes. The appearance could easily lead someone to believe the person was male. Albeit, once the voice was heard, it was clear as day.

Ezra. Twenty. Female.

Date if birth: 2 January 2000

"Hey, Ezra," Fayola greeted with a wave. A small smile — sloppy or forced, she didn't know — had been plastered on her lips. "Hey." The blue-eyed female placed her cup into the sink, but not before rinsing it. "You didn't happen to eat Malieka's cake?" Aidan questioned, crossing his arms.

His little enquiry earned him a look from the black-haired female. "Malieka's cake? I saw an empty plate in the fridge this morning, so I put it in the sink — almost wiped clean. So it wasn't me mos." [3]

There was a short amount of silence. A silence none of them liked; the tension growing every second no-one spoke.

There could only be one culprit. Fayola shook her head — not in the least surprised, but disappointed simultaneously.

"Sibo!" A scream was heard throughout the neighborhood.

In this house, a group of friends — mostly — had lived for the past few months through lockdown. Everything was always lively and a lively happening had already unfolded. Though, like every other story, it wasn't like the other chaotic days. This was that day they would find everything more abnormal than usual and not just because of the disease that was going around.

[-]

Somewhere far away, somewhere one couldn't possibly comprehend, there were two watching. One of the two scoffed, "What a stupid bunch."

Next to her, a young teen identical — in fact, an exact replica — to her, stacked papers together neatly. "There we go. That was the last of it," she mumbled. "Oh, come on. I think they are just having fun down there."

"Yeah, whatever." She looked away stubbornly. "Why do we even need to sort out these profiles on them?" The surly teen grabbed a page, "I mean, look at this! Sibo. Sixteen. Male. Date of birth and all this nonsense!"

"You know very well. We're here to make sure the universes and their inhabitants are all in order. The machine can't do it all the time without a bit of supervision. It'll make a mistake," she explained that which she should already know. "Oh, but we can't," the other remarked.

"Rere, let's just get some coffee for you. You need it."

"Ika, you can't change my mind with coffee."

The latter chuckled. 'Rere' was following her into the kitchen, nonetheless. Once they left, subtly — as if it never happened — the 'machine' sparked with a small sizzle.

A mistake can always happen. Who knows, it could be bad or good.

"Put the knife down, Malieka!" They tried to hold the short-tempered young lady back. "Fine, I won't."

Their grip loosened on the girl.

"I'll choke him instead!" She took the opportunity to reach out for the tanned sixteen-year-old. "Wait, no!" He rebuked, holding his hands out.

"Give me one reason to hold back from choke-slamming you!"

"Social distancing!"

Most likely bad.

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[1]
"Asablief, tog."

↪ This is an Afrikaans phrase basically saying: "Please, man."

[2]
"Ek weet nie."

↪ It's Afrikaans for: "I don't know."

[3]
"... mos."

↪It's an informal speech, Afrikaans, for saying 'it is like that' or 'that's right'. On the lines of that, but it's used in variety of ways.