# Close Call

*Pegged, Act IV*

By [Pegged: The Lifecycle of a Radical Idea](https://paragraph.com/@pegged) · 2026-07-08

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This new scene continues the story of a radical idea and the people willing to risk everything for it. Feedback and beta readers are warmly welcome.

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The impact was barely audible.

A dull tap.

More embarrassing than violent.

Alias stopped immediately.

The old woman's hatchback had rolled backwards at a pedestrian crossing as he was pulling away.

A cracked tail light.

Nothing more.

He stepped out.

"I'm terribly sorry."

She inspected the damage.

"You weren't paying attention."

"You're right."

"I've just bought this car."

Alias nodded.

"I'll pay for the repair."

She ignored the offer.

"No."

He looked at her.

"We'll call the police."

For the first time that morning, he felt his pulse quicken. Not because he feared the police. Because he understood procedure. The officers would ask for identification, insurance, registration.

They would fill in a report.

Nothing exceptional. Exactly the kind of banal interaction through which people in hiding eventually ceased to be anonymous.

The woman had already taken out her phone.

"They'll settle who's responsible."

Alias looked at the cracked light. She was right. He had been distracted. The accident had been his fault.

For a brief moment, a strange thought crossed his mind.

Perhaps this is how it ends.

Not with Interpol, the gendarmerie or MI5. Not through a technical mistake.

But with a cracked tail light.

There was something almost elegantly banal about it. Chance had no obligation to be dramatic.

The woman glanced at him.

"You don't seem very worried."

Alias smiled faintly.

"I've had worse mornings."

She frowned, unable to decide whether he was joking.

He looked across the street.

A patrol car would probably take ten minutes.

Perhaps less.

He imagined the report … Names … Addresses … Insurance numbers.

A routine database query.

Perhaps nothing would happen.

Perhaps everything would.

An uncharacteristic temptation surprised him. If he were identified, Pegged would return to the headlines.

People would ask why … They would read the White Paper … Perhaps the experiment would accelerate.

Just as quickly the thought disappeared.

No.

His arrest would become part of the experiment.

Every subsequent discussion would revolve around its inventor rather than the system.

Pegged would no longer stand alone.

He had spent years removing himself from it. He could not put himself back.

The old woman lowered her phone.

"I can't get through."

She tried again.

No signal.

She looked around impatiently.

"There's usually coverage here."

Alias reached into his wallet.

He took out several banknotes.

"They should cover the repair."

"I don't want your money."

"I know."

He placed the notes gently on the roof of her car.

"What if the repair costs more?"

"It won't."

"And if it does?"

Alias smiled.

"Then you'll know I misjudged the situation."

He turned and walked back to his car.

"Sir!"

He raised one hand in apology and drove away.

In the rear-view mirror he watched the old woman groping for her glasses and growing smaller.

Only when she finally disappeared from sight did he allow himself to breathe again.

Chance had offered him an exit.

For once, he had declined it.

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*Originally published on [Pegged: The Lifecycle of a Radical Idea](https://paragraph.com/@pegged/close-call)*