The catchers are still out there. They are still after us. One of these days, one of these arms in the crowd will flash a red ribbon and we will run like hell. 2011 ff

When we have rested as much as we can allow us, we leave the last safe zone. My hand that nervously clinges to the blue ribbon is sweating. We knew this was just the training. From now on, in this year and the many that will follow, there will be no safe zones. 02:15

It is a volatile atmosphere in the common space where the awards are handed out. There are thirty of us left, fourteen teams. From a hundred and fifty faces that we barely saw more than once, the greatest part has been eliminated, brainwashed, made catcher. The catchers are the ones cheering and laughing, celebrating the transient victory we aren't able to appreciate. 23:30



we made it, and one team after us. we do not know what happened to the others.

The door opens, and stumbling into the dark corridor behind, we realize that we made it. But at what price? The image of Rubin being assaulted by the dark shadow is burning in the back of my head. Lyx half carries me up the last flight of stairs, to where the others are gathering. Runners and catchers alike. 23:10

I hiss: Run! Now! Straight on! - I barely saw the dark shadow on the other side of the street, a movement, a flash of red, and a figure struggling to get away. It is just one more block until we reach the safe zone. I want to avert my eyes from the scene, but I have to look. I have to make sure we won't be the next. And the face of the victim is so... familiar. 22:55



The dark protects you - the dark hunts you down.

We know we are getting late. Too late, maybe. The last checkpoint has been almost deserted. But the city is getting more dangerous, now that we are so close to the goal. They are getting more and more. We cannot risk it like that. Our legs are hurting, and I know lyx' nerves are on edge when she tells me she won't run. That she would hold them up, just so that one of us can make it. 22:45

The couch is the checkpoint. The guardians are about to leave, to desert the safe zone just as we arrive. But they give us a last chance, and their signature. The others meet a friend that has been waiting for them, but now she is one of them. We sneak away in the other direction while she is talking. Each time we get away like that, the rush of success becomes less strong, and the bitter aftertaste of repetition stronger. Our luck won't last forever. 22:30

Now we know why the chaser didn't follow us out of the safe zone. We took the wrong way around the castle. At least we got rid of her, and we have already scouted the yards and gates of the old building earlier today. So we can cut right through it, and through the museum quarter as well. We end up in an alley half way to the safe zone. Again, we are slow, but silent, and most importantly alone. A bus stops near us, and we ride it for a few stations. We cross the other bridge, where they wouldn't wait for us. A street doesn't go through, and we improvise, but we reach the next zone. 22:10

(copyrighted picture)

The upper class. Just a station to pass.

The checkpoint is on an exposed platform, up a flight of stairs. They taunt us latecomers by acting their part extra slow. They are snobbish. They ask us how to dress. As if that was of any importance for the hunted class. The place is swarming with chasers, to gobble up those who remain, those who carelessly step out of the safe zone. 22:00

A moment ago we were smirking, laughing about their blunder to wait at a public tram station in plain sight. If we had been chasers, not runners, hiding here in the shadow, all five of them would be down before they realized what happened. A moment later, we realize how little better we are. There are two of them in the tram. There is no way we could escape them. It is just sheer luck that they are as new to the game as we are, and trying to stay out of our sight while we are safe in the vehicle. So we stay out of theirs. A third chaser boarding the tram distracts them for a moment, and while the doors are closing, we are out - early. And again we are on foot, on the run. 21:40

After a walk that feels like an eternity, we reach the third zone. -But wait- the zone starts on the other side of the plaza. Nobody is acting suspicious, and everybody is acting like they are not. We do cross the place safely, and still no one in sight, red ribbon or blue. Where is the checkpoint? After a while, we find a runner. Once again, we have to ask for help. But it feels good as long as you have someone to ask for help. At the checkpoint, they ask if we want to be heroes. Do we? Maybe that is what it feels like. Are they chasing us, because we are stronger, deadlier, more silent? Aren't we running because we know better? 21:20

We run out of the second safe zone. Nobody. We circle a corner, *tag-boom*. If my ribbon was a hint more reddish, these three would be dead. If theirs were red, we would be. We nod, and smile, and both sides decide that it is a good idea to leave the others as a beacon, to trail off in the direction they wanted to go anyway. It is a long journey to zone three. 21:00

What good is a teleporter without destination?

We leave the safe zone on a remoter side. Just outside the safe zone, we come across a teleporter. We know we aren't supposed to use the teleporters. Lyx tries to make sense of the controls, and we end up in another empty street. Not much closer to zone two. We keep running. My evidencer breaks, just as I am trying to take a picture of a Gödel memorial. He has got a sense of humour, this breaker of systems. We again try to stay safe, and take the back alleys to the safe zones. There won't be chasers in the back alleys, not this early in the game. Hopefully. 20:50

At the first checkpoint, we have to create a tool to save the world. Most of us still believe in that. The guardians inspect our work, and put their sign of approval on our piece of paper. Then they collect the tools, and melt them down. They send us on our way and ask the next person to do the same task again. We - we run. 20:40

Do they want these tools, or is this a test?

They tell us, they didn't see anyone with a ribbon. We think they are just passers-by. But we put our trust in their eyes and memory and dive into the small passageway between the houses. A wary look behind each column, each of the small yards we pass. The safe zone is the road on the other side. 20:30

The chase begins. The road we are on is safe. The safe zones are safe. We are not. So we try to get away from the others. Further away, we enter a network of alleys, all alike. Each intersection brings us closer to the first checkpoint, each distant figure instils another drop into the fragile phial that contains our paranoia. A few minutes ago we were joking, cheering, looking forward to the rush that awaits us. To fame? 20:05

They are smiling at us like a dog at a flock of birds.

The announcer raises the megaphone. He reads the rules. He introduces us to some of our chasers. Our chasers. We applaud. Everyone gets two ribbons. One is blue, to wear on your arm, to surrender when you are tagged, at which point you become one of them. A red ribbon. We get a map, barely a sketch, and a hint. Are we ready? 19:30

This is it. The Journey. We have been preparing for almost a year. We have been talking about this ever since Leif told us about the event. We have travelled in cheap buses just to be here, part of the selected few that dare to be runners today. The others have done the same, and everyone is laughing, cheering. Joking with the chasers that surround us, smiling as the chasers do. A careless smile on our side. A calculated one on their faces. We will be part of this. 19:00

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