Marcos had been extremely busy all night, and it wasn't until the sun started rising on the horizon that he realized none of those diagrams made any sense. In fact, it was a bit worse; none of the diagrams could make any sense. The issue with seeking nothing is typically finding little to nothing, aside from the time squandered on a fruitless task.

The diagrams couldn't be correct because, if they were, the situation would be much worse than any pessimistic forecast. Before his eyes, hundreds of thousands of numbers twinkled, shifted positions, recalculated, turned red, and were transferred to dialogue boxes in some corner showing that there was a problem. After the third code review, considering certain statistic measurement algorithms, he sadly realized that there was probably nothing wrong with his simulation.

The Escape of Piety was one of the most prominent in terms of growth and development. Due to its incredible rise on the national scene, it was the focus of several news stories and already had a contingent of more than 50.000 people, whereas ten years ago, it was just a small housing complex with around 3.000 inhabitants. 

Much of this astounding success was credited to the leadership of Antonio do Nascimento, affectionately known as Father. Initially deemed radical and reckless, his strategies weren't the most cautious, yet through a blend of luck, boldness, and bravery, he steered his community towards exponential growth, elevating him to a near-deified status among the locals. He was undeniably revered. Had there been something akin to "approval ratings" in Escapes, his would be impressively high.

The despair born within Marcos came precisely from the fact that his data, in which he had great confidence, predicted that the Escape would collapse in a very short time, and it was not as if the Father's advisors were doing anything to change things. If Piety kept on its current trajectory, it was doomed to ruin within a year. How could this be happening? 

A wave of helplessness washed over him; he urgently needed to warn someone, yet there was no one he could think of who would listen. He couldn't just go around the streets of the Escape announcing the end of the world; they would immediately accuse him of insanity. 

If he went directly to the council, they would never listen to him. He decided to do what any sensible person would do: he returned to his computers to reexamine the codes, resembling a child who opens the refrigerator several times in a row, hoping, even if deep down, to find some tasty food inside. The difference is that he had an almost uncomfortable certainty that he would find nothing wrong with his simulator.

An idea! That had to work, not because it was a great idea, but because it was the only one he had.

He rushed to his messy room, searching for the object among some wires and sheets lying on his bed. He found a small  storage device amidst some underwear, not sure if they were clean at that moment, but that was beside the point. 

He picked it up, connected it to the computer, and began transferring crucial files. The volume was so vast that analyzing it without his program was unthinkable.

He selected everything he thought necessary and desperately dashed to a friend's house nearby. On the way, he bumped into two idiots running towards somewhere in the northern zone of the Escape. He recognized one of them; it was Crazy Leopard, he had heard of him around, they said he was simply insane.

"Please, forgive me..." Leonardo exclaimed while running, attempting to secure a bag that was nearly slipping away due to the recent collision.

Recently, really strange events had unfolded, and deep down, the young man felt that if he didn't hurry, everything would go terribly wrong. It didn't take long to reach his friend's house,  he rang the doorbell, but got no response. Persisting for a couple more minutes, a kind yet weary-faced woman eventually answered; it was Marcelo's mother.

Marcos had many virtues, but a love for exercise was certainly not among them. Sweat droplets trickled down his black skin, soaking his white t-shirt as well. His curly hair, too, was a home to numerous droplets, many of which cascaded abundantly down to his forehead. The young man was slim, but not really the type inclined towards engaging in many sports. He favored spending his days in front of a computer or immersed in a book, with the only muscle he cared to exercise being his brain. However, his body was now demanding payment for the evident lack of physical exercise throughout his years.

"Good morning, I'm sorry to bother you so early, is Marcelo home?" Marcos asked in a rush, his breath short and panting, having completely forgotten that it was still practically dawn.

"What? He left last night, saying he'd stay at your place. Didn't he show up there?"

"Indeed, he did. He left my house about 15 minutes ago, I assumed he had reached here by now. I rushed over here to say that I won't be able to make our later appointment; some unexpected things have come up," Lied the boy, clueless about what was going on, he didn’t see his friend for more than a week, the last thing he wanted was to cause panic to the woman. "he must have stopped somewhere before coming here. Anyway, I'm sorry again for waking you up so early, I must hurry."

Marcos turned away and hastened in the opposite direction, resolving to search for his friend as soon as he completed his task.