Plain, two beds, two desks, windows overlooking the street. This is where it was all going to go down. I checked my cell for any texts or e-mails from Tunde or Painted Wolf. Nada. I re-sent the messages I’d sent earlier but this time in all caps just to be irritating.
Where were they?
I threw my stuff down on one of the beds and stretched.
All right, let’s do this.…
8. TUNDE
02 DAYS, 18 HOURS, 47 MINUTES UNTIL ZERO HOUR
Chei!
I walked into my dorm room at the Boston Collective to find a space of enormous size. Had it been in Akika Village, at least five people could have been housed in the same space.
But that was not the reason I shouted with surprise.
No, that was because the room was covered in handwritten numbers and letters. The windows and walls were filled with algorithms and coding, theorems and equations. It was as if the whole room was merely another workspace and not a place where two people would be sleeping.
The individual who had written all of these algorithms and formulas was, in fact, standing with his back to me at the other end of the room. I will admit that I was concerned enough that I backed up slightly. Historians tell us that there is a very fine dividing line between genius and insanity. I certainly knew which side of this line I preferred to have my new roommate on and hoped this guy no don mara.
I cleared my throat, but my new roommate did not turn around. Instead, standing on his tiptoes, with a large black marker in his hand, he continued to furiously scribble numbers almost at the top of a wall. In spite of his wowo handwriting, I could see he was working out differential equations.
“Excuse me,” I said, further attempting to get his attention.
My new roommate held up his free hand as if to silence me.
He was very tall, thin, and broad-shouldered, with a shock of dark hair. He wore a hoodie, jeans, and colorful, well-maintained sneakers.
“Sorry,” he said. “Don’t mean to be rude but…”
He kept on writing, so I decided to set down my bag and wait. But I have to admit my patience was running thin. After such a long journey, I was so eager to get started!
“What is it you are working on?” I asked my new roommate.
“The software for your jammer, of course.”
And that is when I was dumbstruck. “Wait … Is that you, omo?”
“Who else would it be, Naija Boi?”
When he turned around, my smile was so wide it lit the room.
My new roommate was Rex Huerta.
Equations and algorithms covering the walls and windows
8.1
YAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Rex and I screamed so loudly and with such joy that I was certain the contestants in the rooms neighboring ours would be calling the police.
“Brother!” he said as we hugged.
“How bodi?”
“It’s so good to finally meet you.”
Here he was in the skin, my best friend! For one memorable moment, all of the stress and strain of the past week fled my body.
“It is very good to see you as well,” I said. “I am so grateful that you are here. How is it that we are roommates? Do not tell me you switched my room designation.…”
Rex made a sly grin, which had me quite worried.
“Is this not a big problem?” I asked. “You must be more careful, Rex. You will get yourself kicked out before you have even begun!”
He laughed. “Don’t stress so hard. I got this.”
I was not immediately convinced. But what is done, is done.
“Did you get my messages?” Rex asked.
“No. I have not had a moment to check. Has something happened?”
“Teo is alive. I got a message from him.”
This was tremendous news. I could not believe my ears.
“That is incredible!” I said, but Rex still wore a grim expression.
“He is alive and needs me to find him because he is in trouble. This whole time, he’s been with Terminal. I don’t know how involved he’s been, but … it can’t be good. Not with a group like that.”
“Listen, omo. Your brother is alive. He is reaching out to you. You must see this as a good thing. There will be time enough later for you to get the answers you seek and find out why he has done all this. I am sure he will have an explanation.”
Rex then showed me the components of the USB, including the tiny receiver. It was very impressive, a tremendous technical feat. Not just the size of it, but the wiring as well. Someone had spent a lot of time thinking about how to make it.
“What’s it tell you?” Rex asked as I looked over the parts.
“It tells me,” I said, “that whatever Teo is involved in, it is big.”
“Could Terminal have made this?”
I shook my head. “I do not know, omo.”
We let the conversation end there as I unpacked my belongings and hung my shirts in the closet. Inside, I discovered a pile of clothes. I assumed they were dirty laundry, but Rex clarified that he never used hangers as he felt they “slowed him down too much.” He was adamant that every second of his waking day counted.
My friend clearly get e number six.
Rex tossed me a few items of clothing that he dragged from the pile. A hoodie. Sweatpants. Even thick socks. “Brought these for you. It’s cold here.”
“Thank you,” I said, looking over the hoodie.
“Come on. Put it on,” Rex said. “You’re late. We have to hurry.”
“Hurry where?”
“The meeting, Tunde.”
8.2
Despite my exhaustion, I put on an enthusiastic face. “Okay.”
“We’re going to find Wolf,” Rex said. “Don’t worry.”
As we left the dorm, we noticed many groups of young people making their way quite hurriedly across the campus. Rex nudged me and we followed them. Catching up with a young man with a shock of blond hair who was clad in an oversized coat, Rex asked what he knew about the meeting.
“No idea.” The young man carried a large mug of soda. So large, in fact, that I worried about his caffeine intake and wondered how fast his heart must beat. “You guys just get in?” he asked.
“Pretty much,” Rex said.
I reached out my hand in introduction. “My name is Tunde Oni.”
The young man shook my hand quite forcefully. “Hey, Tunde.”
His accent was thick and unfamiliar. I guessed Eastern European.
“I’m Rex Huerta,” Rex said.
“Oh, I know you.” Rex did shine his thirty-two as the young man continued. “My name is Norbert Ruçi. I’m from Elbasan. That’s in Albania. You know, the country next to Greece everyone forgets about. I’m a coder.”
“A coder? What sort?” Rex asked, shaking the man’s hand as well.
Norbert said, “I’m a Haskell guy.”
“Steep learning curve on that one.”
“Well, that’s what I code for fun. Malbolge is where I really do my thing.”
Malbolge code in action
Rex’s eyes went big. “Holy … That’s awesome.”
“What is this code?” I asked. “I am not familiar with it.”
Rex explained. “It’s some seriously esoteric coding language. Actually designed to be impossible to code in. Wasn’t even created by a person; it was spat out by a machine. Most people consider it a quirk.”
“Thing is, if you can really dive into it, rebuild some of the structural stuff to compensate for weaknesses, it can be superfun to work in,” Norbert said, breaking into the conversation. “You write amazing programs. You ever try it?”
Rex said, “Yeah. I’m not going to say I didn’t get it but … I didn’t get it.”
I laughed very hard at hearing this until Rex rammed an elbow into my side.
As we approached an academic hall, we could see masses of participants making their way through the large double doors at the entrance. The crowd had ce
rtainly arrived. We would have quite the competition.
Norbert rushed up the steps. As he led the charge, he turned to Rex and said, “I’m glad you could make it. It’ll be fun to talk business.”
“For sure,” Rex said.
We were ushered into a massive lecture hall as large as an airplane hangar. It was filled with rows of stadium-style seats; the stage was bare, decorated only with black curtains and a black background. It gave the room a tangible sense of anticipation and immediately hushed the crowd that had already assembled. I estimated that just over half of the contestants were already inside.
Sitting down in a middle row, I had the feeling that anything could take place on that empty stage. It was a feeling of great excitement, and I was able to push my worries about my family and village from my mind for a brief moment.
All two hundred of the contestants were gathered, and restless with anticipation. I scanned the sea of faces, looking for Painted Wolf.
“There,” Rex said, pointing to a side entrance.
Can I tell you how surprised I was to see Painted Wolf in the flesh? She walked into the auditorium dressed in a most spectacular outfit. Seeing her I had to kool tempa, oh! She moved with such authority and strength. I had sometimes wondered what sort of soul could accomplish the surprising feats of espionage and inquiry of which she had become a recognized expert.
Seeing her then, the answer was quite obvious: She was a superstar.
9. CAI
02 DAYS, 17 HOURS, 14 MINUTES UNTIL ZERO HOUR
Several of Kiran’s handlers were waiting at the airport for our arrival.
They shepherded us into a large black SUV and then roared out into the night. Kiran spent much of the ride on his laptop and cell phone, making various business calls and typing out long lines of code. He spoke in English, Hindi, and French.
I spent the time on my cell, eavesdropping as best I could.
Kiran moved through a dizzying array of topics. He talked land development in South America, East African warlords, drone technology, route planning software, and surveillance. None of it directly referenced China, but I was glad I had my spy cameras running.
“There won’t be time to stop by your room,” Kiran told me as the SUV raced onto the Boston Collective campus. “We’re running a bit behind, so you’ll have to walk in with me. That’s okay, right?”
“Of course.” I smiled. “Walk in where?”
“The auditorium. I’m going to tell the contestants why they’re here.”
The SUV screeched to a halt at the back of a large auditorium, the vehicle doors opened, and Kiran ushered me outside. There were people—contestants I figured—waiting, cheering and clapping like the giddy kids they were. It was embarrassing. Here I was, trying to hide in plain sight only to be captured walking in with Kiran by dozens of cell phone snapshots.
“Hang on,” Kiran said. He stopped and leaned down so his face was next to mine. “Smile for the cameras. This is the start of something glorious.”
We were bathed in the lightning strobe of flashes for only a second, but I knew that second would live on infinitely as the contestants uploaded their pics to their home pages, walls, streams, threads, and albums. The Game hadn’t even begun and already my presence there was being broadcast to the world.
I wanted to kick Kiran in the shins. He knew what he was doing.
“You’re a champ,” he said as we started walking again.
Kiran peeled off, into a side hallway, as soon as we entered the building. I was taken by his handlers through a series of doors and into the packed auditorium. I scanned the faces of the two hundred contestants and saw Tunde and Rex immediately. Tunde was waving.
“Painted Wolf!” he shouted across the theater. “I see you!”
I waved back briefly before the lights were suddenly extinguished.
Kiran’s handler walked me over to a set of reserved seats as Kiran bounded up the stage stairs. An explosion of light lit the stage and Kiran, at its center, bowed to the assembled crowd. They cheered wildly, whistling and hollering.
“Good evening, everybody!” Kiran shouted into his wireless mic.
The crowd was rapturous.
Kiran calmed them by gently waving his hands the way a grandfather does.
“Welcome to the Game.”
The applause was deafening and Kiran let it go on and on until it extinguished itself. There was so much pent-up energy in the contestants that I suspect they would have all spontaneously combusted if the presentation had started more than five minutes late.
Sitting where I was, I didn’t have the best view. Or at least my cameras didn’t. So rather than sit, I got up and walked over to a wall. It felt good to stand and stretch. I realized that even though I’d had a comfortable seat, the stress of the flight had my muscles aching with tension.
Besides, I needed the best angle to record Kiran’s big moment.
Kiran on stage via Painted Wolf’s “button” camera
He was so comfortable on that stage, so suave.
“You people are all here,” Kiran said, “because you have acted upon your imagination. You are originals. And originals are the key to success. We live in a world where everyone is copying everyone else, but copies are a distraction. Today, here, we are looking toward the future: We are here to set things right. We are here to change everything.”
I watched Kiran. This moment was probably the moment he was most excited for. It was the first rallying cry for his troops. The kids packing the hall didn’t realize it yet, but they weren’t there to win a silly contest. They were there as a recruitment pool for Kiran’s vision, whatever it was.
“I want you all to know that you have been selected for this competition not only for what you have already accomplished but also for what you will someday accomplish. I will also tell you that most of you will be going home within the next twenty-four hours.”
A hush fell over the crowd.
It was as though it had changed from summer to winter in an instant.
“I realize that sounds harsh, but it is true. This is a competition and the rules are very strict. There can be only one winning team. That does not mean that those of you who are no longer with us tomorrow evening will go home empty-handed. I assure you that you will leave here having put your skills to their greatest challenge, confident in the knowledge that you are one of a select few. But let’s not dwell on that. Let’s get to why you’re here: the Game and how to win it.”
The audience caught its breath.
“I have hidden something on this campus. The only way to find it is to determine what exactly is contained in this code.…”
As Kiran spoke, a haze of light formed around the stage as numbers and images began to coalesce. To Kiran’s right, a steady stream of numbers and words blossomed from the darkness and ran on a screen beside him, projected there by an unseen source. I noted magnesium and lock among the words. The images and words shifted and began moving around Kiran as though they were three-dimensional, like he could reach out and touch them. I tried to spot the projectors to get a glimpse of how it was being done but couldn’t see anything.
Then again, a good magician is all about hiding the wires.
“Giving you the code would be too easy.” Kiran grinned. “I’m going to hide that, too. I’ll put it … here.”
With a swipe of Kiran’s left hand, the swirling numbers and words consolidated into a digital moth.
There were oohs and aahs from the audience.
I tried not to be as captivated as I was. The moth was golden, and gold dust fell from its wings as it fluttered around the stage. With a dramatic flick of his wrist, Kiran stuck a digital pin into the moth’s body and pinned it to the wall behind him, where it died a digital death.
“This moth is your first challenge,” Kiran explained. “There are two phases in the Game. This is Phase One. To reach Phase Two, you have to solve the riddle at the heart of this moth and uncover the code inside.”
The Phase One moth
Kiran turned and opened his arms wide as though he was throwing flowers out into the audience, though his hands were empty.
“I invite you to take a look at a copy.”
The hall was immediately overwhelmed with the sound of two hundred cell phones buzzing alerts at the very same second. It didn’t take long for the audience to figure out the sound was coming from under their chairs. Reaching down, they pulled out brand-new touch-screen smartphones in plastic sheaths. Sliding over to an empty seat, I grabbed a buzzing cell phone. Pinned to a black space on the screen was the digital moth.
Applause broke out.
“The phone is yours to keep. I’m going to leave it to you to decipher the meaning of the image on your screen. But when you do”—Kiran turned and gestured to the moth behind him—“you will uncover directions. Those directions will bring you to a room and in that room you will find…”
Kiran moved his hands and a new image formed to his left.
Done up in full color was a highly detailed rectangular, windowless room with a massive Plexiglas safe at its center.
In the safe was an old laptop computer.
“Phase Two of the Game leads up to Zero Hour. And that, my friends, will remain a secret for the time being.”
Conversations erupted across the auditorium.
Kiran quickly quieted them.
“The goal of the Game is for you to find a way out of your comfort zones,” he said. “It is for you to expand your horizons. You can’t expect to win unless you’re willing, fully willing, to create your own rules and break them, one by one by one.”
That statement was met with deafening applause.
“All of you, I’m certain, would love to be present at Zero Hour, but I’m afraid only those who solve Phase One will proceed.”
The audience groaned.
Kiran paced the stage, and as he did, the laser image of the safe and the room dissolved back into nothingness. Only the moth remained. “You have until tomorrow morning, bright and early at six thirty, to solve the main puzzle. And just to make sure you don’t forget…,” he said, pointing to the moth.
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