Sentient Typewriter

--IT'S THE THIRTEENTH DAY OF JANUARY, EXACTLY ONE IN THE AFTERNOON. AND WHEN THE CLOCK STRIKES 1:40 TODAY, DERRICK'S WHOLE APARTMENT WILL EXPLODE.--

Derrick was eating ramen when he heard the tapping sound from his typewriter. And no, no one was using it, it was pressing its keys on its own. One might assume it's haunted but be careful, it doesn't like being called haunted, ever. Rather, it prefers sentient — a sentient typewriter.

It claims it knows the future and that it was once human too. But who knows? It could be a devil in disguise trying to lure Derrick into its lair, enticing him with the promises of tomorrow. And when the poor guy has his guards down, that is when it shows its true color. But who knows, really?

There is no way for Derrick to ever know that if that was indeed the case. How could he?

And so, putting down the half-eaten cup of ramen, Derrick stood from the floor and headed to the barely standing table where he put the typewriter. A typing paper was loaded to it, something that wasn't there before, or something that he ever bought. It spits out typing papers whenever it wants to say something. It never runs out of ribbon inks either — something that Derrick finds fascinating every single time.

But he froze when he finally read what was on the paper. He was horrified. He checked the time on his watch, it said 1:02.

"Fuck you, you stupid… aaargh! Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Derrick yelled at the typewriter. Then…

*tap! tap! tap!

It began typing again—timidly.

--ARE YOU ANGRY?--

"HA?! And you have the nerve to ask me that?"

*tap! tap!

--SORRY--

"Well, you should be!" Derrick wasn't really angry, rather, he was panicking and the gears in his head were all grinding to their maximum capacities.

He started to pace in his room, biting his nails — a habit he has whenever he's uncomfortable.

For reference, it wasn't more than a week ago since he started living in this apartment. He already paid the three months in advance and now the typewriter was telling him it will explode in less than an hour? 'Why didn't it tell me a week ago then?' He started to feel irate.

"Is it just our room or the whole building included?"

*tap! tap!

--BUILDING--

"Then what about the people? Will they—Will they die?"

*tap!

--MAYBE--

"Effin' donkey!"

After that, Derrick packed all of his things faster than a speeding bullet. His clothes, his camera and his laptop, then his phone and the suitcase with the typewriter inside. He finished at 1:19.

His chest was threatening to explode and his back was drenched with sweat.

He rushed out of his room and immediately headed to his neighbor. Then he knocked on the door as hard and as fast as he could. There were no doorbells in this apartment building so he had no choice but to knock.

"Hello? Anyone there? Billy, sir? Can you please open the door?"

Ten seconds, fifteen, then twenty. And the door finally opened halfway. Yes, only halfway.

"Don't you know that if you knock on somebody else's door and nobody answers or opens it means nobody was there? Why don't you take the hint?" It was Billy. A grumpy shut-in who only goes outside for groceries twice a month. The reason why Derrick chose to go to him first was because he was certain this dude was always home but this seemed to be a wrong decision.

"Forgive me, Billy, sir. But it's an emergency and I am here to tell you to pack your things and get away from this building pronto because a bomb is about to go off and that you might die." Derrick said in one breath.

However…

Billy just stared at him as if he was looking at someone crazy.

"Look, I don't know what you're going through at the moment but please leave me alone, mister. And if you really want, you can knock on other people's doors, just not mine. There are eight other rooms in this building to go knocking on. Bye!" And with that, Billy slammed the door shut.

"Hey! Open it! You gotta believe me! I'm not making this up!" Derrick tried to knock again but on his third or fourth try something, the door opened a slit and Billy's eyes peeked out from the opening.

"Also, if you're going to do it, please do it silently. I was trying to do mukbang but you're banging on the damn door so loud it ruined a twenty-minute long video and now I have to start over again. So please do it silently. Hmm?" Then he attempted to close the door again but Derrick blocked it with his foot.

"Ow! That hurts. But sir, can you like… just edit it out? But really, you gotta believe me! I'm not making this up. Pack all your things now because this whole apartment will explode."

"Take out your foot." Billy told him. He was starting to get irritated.

"No, wait, sir. Please—"

"I'm calling the police." And like a magic word, Derrick pulled his foot back in an instant. Actually he couldn't have cared less if the police came or not because he was sure the apartment was going to explode anyway. The typewriter had never been wrong before. If it said something was going to happen then it is going to happen.

But it was like an instinct, you know? You threaten calling the police and any normal person would react the same way as Derrick's.

Billy slammed the door shut and Derrick tried to knock again but the dude never opened nor answered him anymore.

"This is so inefficient." He tried to think of another way—a more efficient one to get people out of the building without knocking on their doors one by one. And then an idea hit him.

He hurriedly went down to the second floor, his room was on the third floor by the way.

There was a law in their country that apartments, boarding houses, hotels, and the like must have fire alarms and other safety measures like fire extinguishers, proper wirings, and appropriate window grids... You can't have your business permit if you don't follow the protocol. As a result, the rent becomes higher but it might just save everyone's lives in this apartment building.

Then Derrick finally saw it, the red box on the wall that said 'FIRE'. He didn't hesitate to pull it down as indicated on the instructions. Then the alarm went off.

The first four seconds or so were silent except for the alarm, then followed by people panicking. They rushed out of their doors with their kids, husbands, and rice cookers as they ran towards the open.

And then… nothing. There was no fire.

They waited for around two minutes but still, nothing happened. Then murmurs started to erupt from the crowd. It started from Rita, a mother of four and was one of the women who likes to gossip early in the morning in the hallways, craning their necks spying on their neighbors all day long. It's like her full time job, really.

"Who pulled it?" Was the only thing she said but it started it all.

"You! It was you, wasn't it? First, you tell me there's a bomb in the apartment and when I didn't believe you you started the alarm. Is it a prank, huh? Well it's not funny!" It was Billy. Actually, it was surprising he was able to bring his PC down in that short amount of time but he's not really someone you would call nice and mature. He was like this really big dude that throws tantrums like an effin' three-year-old.

"No, you're—"

"A BOMB?! There is a bomb in the apartment?" Lauren gasped. She was the person living right below Derrick. A scrawny college student taking up BS Psychology in the University of Raguna.

"Who said there is a bomb?" It was the landlady this time. "There is no bomb! Who said it?" She asked, fuming, not even trying to lift her head anymore in an attempt to hide her double chin like she always does.

And by the way, nobody likes her. She's an obnoxious, angry, entitled, and racist middle aged woman. Tenants only rented her apartment because hers was the cheapest at the cost of cardboard-thin walls and crappy furniture. "I said who said it?!" She screamed, her saliva spitting out, her face reddening.

"It was him, madam!" Billy pointed to Derrick, an annoying smirk plastered on his face.

"So it was youuuu! Youuuuuu! You dirty lying bird," she said as she marched towards Derrick and pulled his shirt to lower him so she could look down on him. She was 4 '3 and was very insecure about her height and she didn't like looking up at people.

"There. Is. No. Bomb. In my apartment!" She screamed at his face, spitting saliva everywhere. Derrick feared he was gonna suffocate from her sour breath for a second.

And it was at that moment. While everyone was bickering and pointing fingers at him, the whole apartment exploded with a deafening sound, so strong the ground shook a little.

Derrick looked at his watch, it was exactly 1:40pm.