Tuesday, May 21, 2019
Just Desserts
Engees stood, helplessly moping at the smouldering remains of what used to be his testing facility.
Only last night, he’d shared on his Whatsapp status the progress he’d made in reaching the precipice of unlocking the genome in the DNA sequencing of vitiligo. He was on the verge of a scientific breakthrough that was going to reverberate across the scientific world and place him among the greatest ever. His findings, were he to achieve the laudable objectives he set for himself at the onset of his research, could even lead to a full-blown reversal of the patches of unpigmented skin which characterised the condition and often blighted the lives of those who had it. He required only about a week's more work to attain that feat.
But that was last night.
Now, all that was either ashes or cracking embers of fire, the final remains of an all-out conflagration that consumed his entire lab and adjoining sections of the building housing his lab. And he’d refused to use cloud storage for his work ever since the previous hacking made him part with a substantial amount to retrieve his work from hackers. He'd settled for local storage in backed up files on his laptop. And 2 external hard disk drives. He observed, as he looked about, that all the anti-inflammables he installed to protect sensitive materials appeared to have been overpowered by the ferocity of the explosion.
He knew better than to attempt to touch anything. Getting his fingers singed will only worsen his situation and he was already in a foul mood as it were. In fact, “foul mood” was grossly understating his state of mind. It was, at this point, murderous.
Maybe even that understated his state of mind.
He’d gone red in the eyes with the rage building up from his insides. He had a suspect for this burnt-out lab. It indubitably had to be the handiwork of the baddies at LEONA BADRI LABS, LBL for short. They had negotiated with him for the sponsorship of his work when the results of his pilot study gained international acclaim after it was published in the Johns Hopkins Journal of Curative Medical Practice three years before. He’d staunchly rejected their offers – three at the last count – and emphatically told them off when they brought a reworked offer to add him to their staff strength. He made it clear, as he’d done each time, that this was his baby and there wasn’t an offer big enough to buy it from him.
LBL was not used to being rejected. Anyone who wanted to be a force to reckon with in science and tech worked for them (or better put, was bought over by them). And seeing their bids rejected so many times must have rubbed them off the wrong way. So, they must’ve thought he needed to be dealt with. And this was how they believed it had to be done.
Engees also believed he knew how it was that they were successful. It had to be with the connivance of that new cleaner. If only he’d followed through on his intuition and removed that guy from the picture as he knew how to do. Maybe, just maybe, he’d not be in the box he was in now. He clenched his fist, feeding his blood stream with the bile that was poisoning his mind. If he’d simply used one of the toxins in his supply on the cleaner after the man had aroused his suspicions with the way he snooped around Engees' labs, being nosey about what was not his concern, if he’d just served that man a dose of hepatotoxin, the man's liver would’ve brought an end to his sleuthing on behalf of LBL.
Engees breath came in stops now. Even his teeth were clenched. Eyes were bloodshot. Shoulders bobbed up and down in tandem with his infuriated breathing. Those LBL peeps had messed with the wrong snake. And they were going to find out just how wrong they were in due course. His mind was at work already. Maps were being constructed with schemes ensconced in schemes to make them pay in a way that will ensure they knew who was responsible for the mishaps that were sure to befall them soon. It was going to be such that in comparison, the ashes of his lab will look like paradise. Oh, they will hear from him. Loud and clear.
But first things first. Engees unclenched his fist and retrieved a piece of paper from his wallet. That cleaner had to be cleaned up. He smiled his evil smile at the irony as he unfolded the paper to read the contents. Though he had no need of the paper as he’d committed the info it contained to memory, he did it by sheer force of habit. As he went through the options on the piece of paper, he recalled how he’d used a couple of them for some other victims in the past. Each one he’d taken out before had been purely a scientific endeavour. He’d not taken any delight in the affair. It was purely business, in the furtherance of science and nothing more. This time around? He was going to enjoy it. This time, he was invested in making it pleasurable for himself.
He didn’t have the right equipment to expose the cleaner’s body to about 107.6 degrees Fahrenheit of heat. At that level, irreversible heatstroke ensured fatality. He considered exposing the man to about a 40-degree Fahrenheit of cold submerging for half an hour enough to rid a human body of prerequisite body heat but that involved a long trip to the small border town between Lagos and Ogun States where that temperature was engineered in a unit at a facility to which he had access. He went through other options from memory even with the piece of paper in his palm containing all this info. And then, he settled. LBL labs had a training facility just down the street. What would happen if it were to suddenly burst into flames? After all, accidents like the one that his lab suffered happened every day. Now, if the cleaner happened to coincidentally be in the building when it ticked off and blew up, wouldn’t that be two birds downed by one stone? Coincidences, like accidents, occurred every day too. He’d ensure the burn degree went upwards of 300 Fahrenheit and was burning longer than 10 minutes. That was easy peasy.
And then, it’ll be time to devote to the best way to pay the rest of LBL in their own coin. But he knew that was nothing to worry about. He had time. And when he put his mind to it, there was …
“Excuse me, sir,” someone’s voice broke his train of thought.
Engees turned around in shock. His mind was so far away, he didn’t hear anyone come close. It was the cleaner.
“Yes?” Engees fired back in a voice dripping with malice.
The man’s face contoured in confusion at the bite in the voice but he went on. “Sorry about your misfortune.”
Engees eyed him with derision without replying.
The man didn't show he noticed. “When I saw the fire start, I knew I had only a short time to act. So, I dropped everything I was doing and ran straight into your lab.”
Engees frowned. “You …”
But the man was still talking. “I have watched you doing your work and admired your dedication. If things were different, I’d have been a scientist too.” Then, he reached into his thick overalls and retrieved a laptop. “I saved this for you,” he finished as he presented it to Engees.
Engees eyes widened in an admixture of shock, self-recrimination and gratitude. He grabbed the man in a bear-hug. He didn’t even know he was shedding tears.
Cock and Bull Story
If you want to fish around for partner, don't horse about near my friend Kate. She isn't one you can cow to a corner while you tiger around seeking side-chicks to spider. She's not the cat for that monkey business. She doesn't ape slay queens and you can't badger her to bear grudges.
Confidence appeal dogs Kate's every step. It's what makes her tick. You'd never see her hawk her flesh for eagle eyes. Nor parrot the cliches of kids. She seldom bugs anyone and abhors leeches. And rats who can't keep a secret. And snakes who masquerade as friends.
Attempts to fox your way into Kate's heart will only seal your fate. Don't worm your way in, either. You will squirrel off, the weasel you are, when you encounter her whale of a lion heart. And if you ram in, she's the type that can hound you to the grave and beyond. Give you a taste of your own medicine for what is good for the goose is good for the gander.
So, should anyone egg you on to crane your neck in her direction and steer you into a relationship with her, except you're sincere, kangaroo away in the opposite direction.
Fly!
Confidence appeal dogs Kate's every step. It's what makes her tick. You'd never see her hawk her flesh for eagle eyes. Nor parrot the cliches of kids. She seldom bugs anyone and abhors leeches. And rats who can't keep a secret. And snakes who masquerade as friends.
Attempts to fox your way into Kate's heart will only seal your fate. Don't worm your way in, either. You will squirrel off, the weasel you are, when you encounter her whale of a lion heart. And if you ram in, she's the type that can hound you to the grave and beyond. Give you a taste of your own medicine for what is good for the goose is good for the gander.
So, should anyone egg you on to crane your neck in her direction and steer you into a relationship with her, except you're sincere, kangaroo away in the opposite direction.
Fly!
Tomorrow
The seat belt held his torso suspended. He couldn’t feel anything from the waist downwards. Or was it upwards? He couldn’t tell. He winced as another strain of pain shot from his back to his skull. He must’ve fractured something behind as well. His entire frame was a receptacle of hurt. Something warm wormed its way down from his chest to the left side of his chin and divided into two rivulets. As both sleeked their slow journey further down, one streamlet made it over his lower lip and into his mouth. He tasted his own blood.
But his attention was riveted elsewhere.
From what was left of the broken side mirror of the car, he craned his neck, forcing his body to adjust as little as was possible to see the path down the road from which he’d just passed. The effort only served to dish out more pain. He screamed involuntarily. The hurting came from a jammed foot underneath the crumpled dashboard. Or what used to be a dashboard.
Yet, he still obdurately continued his effort to look behind at the road. Was it worth it?
Exactly two minutes ago, Adi was driving back home. It was one of those weekends where his attention was needed in the office. He never got used to working weekends and always thought it was a violation of his hours of rejuvenation wherever it was required of him to be in the office when the rest of the natural world was resting. The only difference this weekend was that it was on a project that he had initiated and that had become the model for new market innovation by the company and for which he had received a personal note of appreciation from the oga patapata. In fact, his exhilaration today was that his line manager, Isa had confided in him that the boss was putting Adi’s name up as subsequent line manager when Isa leaves in two months.
Adi knew what that meant. He was on the move up. It had been hectic getting to where he was. The sleepless nights spent in school trying to make the grades. His penniless parents who sacrificed life and limbs putting him through school. His 4-year sojourn as a “will-work-for-peanuts” job applicant whose shoes were angry at him for inhumane treatment. His loss of friends who went on to big jobs, happy marriages and the lifestyles of the “employed and married”. His perpetual “friendzoned” status among those who only dated those with white-collar jobs. He had quietly exited all that inglorious past without fanfare and now, he was going to even levels not imagined by his ever supportive and now contented parents.
Adi was going up. And he was going to celebrate this news as he always did. With his parents.
Tomorrow.
He would surprise them with a visit. He’d be waiting for them when they return from church. Their new apartment which he’d paid for in full on their behalf was only an hour’s drive from where the company accommodated key members of staff like Adi. So, it will be a thoroughly enjoyable Sunday. He had earlier made plans to see a movie that Sunday. It was about an accident survivor who was thought to have flat-lined and pronounced medically dead for all of 5 minutes. Only to live to tell his story of the out-of-body experience he had for those minutes. That was right up Adi’s alley. The kinds of things that excited him. But that movie will have to wait. This news of his elevation trumped that movie and as he drove home from work this Saturday, he envisioned his parents' reaction to the news that their child…
That was when the image of someone else’s child crossing the road while Adi was speeding through came into his field of vision.
And everything slowed down like in the movies …
Adi glanced at the rear view mirror. There was a Toyota Carina four seconds behind him at quite the same speed as he was going. Just behind the Carina was a Honda Accord. He didn’t have the time to know how fast that was travelling as he engaged his brakes. The screeching was loud. He spun the wheel, drifting to place his Mazda horizontally across the vertical travel of the road. This gave him enough time to look right (to see the wide-eyed shock of the child who stood transfixed in the middle of the road not more than ten normal paces from where Adi’s Camry stood like a bulwark of protection) and look left to see the panic on the face of the woman driving the Carina.
And then impact.
As the woman attempted to brake and minimise the impact with Adi, she was rammed into from behind by the Accord whose driver was in a haste to go see the premier league opener between his team and another. The force of the collision drove the Carina violently into the midriff of Adi’s Mazda, mangling the part where the driver’s door meets the frame. It sent a jolt through the entire form of Adi’s body but he’d never have imagined what it’ll do to his car.
It was too fast for the mind to register. He could only remember being spun over and over and the violent contractions his seat-belt bound body endured. He couldn’t number the knocks his head got nor describe the searing pain that he felt when the dashboard caved in on his torso. In less than a minute he’d gone from thoughts of Sunday to a wreck of hurtful proportions.
When the car finally stopped wheels-up, he’d no idea he was upside down. All he cared about at that moment was trying to see if he’d been successful. Was the sacrifice worth it? Did the child escape unhurt? Was he now safe? A scream had escaped Adi just a few seconds ago but he still laboured to find out. If he could just spin his body a little, it’ll allow him stretch his neck enough to see the rest of the road from where he was suspended on the upturned crumpled remains of his car.
As he forcibly stretched, a scrappy metal edge of the door frame sliced through the vein in his left arm, letting out a stream of warm, gushing blood. Adi felt the warmth not the pain. He still stretched some more. But the blood loss was too much. He willed his body to move more trying to see the road and see the child safe. It was not to be.
As his body became limp, his eyes closed of their own accord.
But his attention was riveted elsewhere.
From what was left of the broken side mirror of the car, he craned his neck, forcing his body to adjust as little as was possible to see the path down the road from which he’d just passed. The effort only served to dish out more pain. He screamed involuntarily. The hurting came from a jammed foot underneath the crumpled dashboard. Or what used to be a dashboard.
Yet, he still obdurately continued his effort to look behind at the road. Was it worth it?
Exactly two minutes ago, Adi was driving back home. It was one of those weekends where his attention was needed in the office. He never got used to working weekends and always thought it was a violation of his hours of rejuvenation wherever it was required of him to be in the office when the rest of the natural world was resting. The only difference this weekend was that it was on a project that he had initiated and that had become the model for new market innovation by the company and for which he had received a personal note of appreciation from the oga patapata. In fact, his exhilaration today was that his line manager, Isa had confided in him that the boss was putting Adi’s name up as subsequent line manager when Isa leaves in two months.
Adi knew what that meant. He was on the move up. It had been hectic getting to where he was. The sleepless nights spent in school trying to make the grades. His penniless parents who sacrificed life and limbs putting him through school. His 4-year sojourn as a “will-work-for-peanuts” job applicant whose shoes were angry at him for inhumane treatment. His loss of friends who went on to big jobs, happy marriages and the lifestyles of the “employed and married”. His perpetual “friendzoned” status among those who only dated those with white-collar jobs. He had quietly exited all that inglorious past without fanfare and now, he was going to even levels not imagined by his ever supportive and now contented parents.
Adi was going up. And he was going to celebrate this news as he always did. With his parents.
Tomorrow.
He would surprise them with a visit. He’d be waiting for them when they return from church. Their new apartment which he’d paid for in full on their behalf was only an hour’s drive from where the company accommodated key members of staff like Adi. So, it will be a thoroughly enjoyable Sunday. He had earlier made plans to see a movie that Sunday. It was about an accident survivor who was thought to have flat-lined and pronounced medically dead for all of 5 minutes. Only to live to tell his story of the out-of-body experience he had for those minutes. That was right up Adi’s alley. The kinds of things that excited him. But that movie will have to wait. This news of his elevation trumped that movie and as he drove home from work this Saturday, he envisioned his parents' reaction to the news that their child…
That was when the image of someone else’s child crossing the road while Adi was speeding through came into his field of vision.
And everything slowed down like in the movies …
Adi glanced at the rear view mirror. There was a Toyota Carina four seconds behind him at quite the same speed as he was going. Just behind the Carina was a Honda Accord. He didn’t have the time to know how fast that was travelling as he engaged his brakes. The screeching was loud. He spun the wheel, drifting to place his Mazda horizontally across the vertical travel of the road. This gave him enough time to look right (to see the wide-eyed shock of the child who stood transfixed in the middle of the road not more than ten normal paces from where Adi’s Camry stood like a bulwark of protection) and look left to see the panic on the face of the woman driving the Carina.
And then impact.
As the woman attempted to brake and minimise the impact with Adi, she was rammed into from behind by the Accord whose driver was in a haste to go see the premier league opener between his team and another. The force of the collision drove the Carina violently into the midriff of Adi’s Mazda, mangling the part where the driver’s door meets the frame. It sent a jolt through the entire form of Adi’s body but he’d never have imagined what it’ll do to his car.
It was too fast for the mind to register. He could only remember being spun over and over and the violent contractions his seat-belt bound body endured. He couldn’t number the knocks his head got nor describe the searing pain that he felt when the dashboard caved in on his torso. In less than a minute he’d gone from thoughts of Sunday to a wreck of hurtful proportions.
When the car finally stopped wheels-up, he’d no idea he was upside down. All he cared about at that moment was trying to see if he’d been successful. Was the sacrifice worth it? Did the child escape unhurt? Was he now safe? A scream had escaped Adi just a few seconds ago but he still laboured to find out. If he could just spin his body a little, it’ll allow him stretch his neck enough to see the rest of the road from where he was suspended on the upturned crumpled remains of his car.
As he forcibly stretched, a scrappy metal edge of the door frame sliced through the vein in his left arm, letting out a stream of warm, gushing blood. Adi felt the warmth not the pain. He still stretched some more. But the blood loss was too much. He willed his body to move more trying to see the road and see the child safe. It was not to be.
As his body became limp, his eyes closed of their own accord.
Some Crush
SOME CRUSH
As iron extracted from ore
Could unwomb a gem of awe,
So was my crush's allure
Embodied by her beau figure.
That bottle body, oh that body
Not exactly that figure 8 curvy,
Yet smooth, not pliant, sturdy,
Evoking desires uncorked, sweaty.
This crush remained oblivious,
That my desires were lascivious.
I thirsted, salivated. It wasn't obvious.
My crush remained stolidly impervious.
If she'd given my desires any notice,
If I'd been granted just one eye-service.
Blood of Zechariah, I'd have paid any price
There'd be nothing too weighty to sacrifice.
But as it often is with crushes,
They never spare your blushes.
Embarrassments gave me flushes.
Down went my love after all the uprushes.
I reminisce often and tell myself, "Welp,
All that crushing and lusting didn't help.
So, I guzzle my malt and loudly yelp:
ORDINARY BOTTLE OF CRUSH, WHO YOU 'EPP?"
As iron extracted from ore
Could unwomb a gem of awe,
So was my crush's allure
Embodied by her beau figure.
That bottle body, oh that body
Not exactly that figure 8 curvy,
Yet smooth, not pliant, sturdy,
Evoking desires uncorked, sweaty.
This crush remained oblivious,
That my desires were lascivious.
I thirsted, salivated. It wasn't obvious.
My crush remained stolidly impervious.
If she'd given my desires any notice,
If I'd been granted just one eye-service.
Blood of Zechariah, I'd have paid any price
There'd be nothing too weighty to sacrifice.
But as it often is with crushes,
They never spare your blushes.
Embarrassments gave me flushes.
Down went my love after all the uprushes.
I reminisce often and tell myself, "Welp,
All that crushing and lusting didn't help.
So, I guzzle my malt and loudly yelp:
ORDINARY BOTTLE OF CRUSH, WHO YOU 'EPP?"
Treasure
It was a beauty to behold.
It was even more so when Isidore held it between his fingers. Like most precious items, the quality of magnificence multiples upon physical personal experience. Nothing in the pictures he'd seen of it prepared him for the grandeur he beheld. He lifted it up to the light. The contoured edges of the gemstone glistened in the pale dues of the twilight. Depending on the edge touched by the light, a mesmerising kaleidoscope danced before his eyes.
"It carries the worth of the bearer in the value of its origin: the peridot."
Those were the words engraved on the insides of the band. He remembered how he'd first been confused by the message of that army of words until he checked what "peridot" meant. He ran a thumb over the gemstone, filling his sensate faculties with the allure of the precious stone. He recalled the information he'd gathered of the peridot and felt his being becoming one with the gem.
The glorious yellowish gold-green Peridot had been under-appreciated for years, overlooked as a lesser gem, small, easily obtained and relatively inexpensive. Its popularity had fallen in and out of vogue for centuries. However, a new resurgence was bringing to light what Peridot lovers had always known: the endearing allure of a truly remarkable stone.
Called “the extreme gem” by gem experts, the peridot was born of fire and brought to light, one of only two gems (Diamond is the other) formed not in the Earth’s crust, but in the molten rock of the upper mantle and brought to the Earth's surface by the tremendous forces of earthquakes and volcanoes. While these Peridots are born of Earth, other crystals of the Peridot class had extraterrestrial origins, found in rare meteorites (only 61 known to date) formed some billions of years ago, remnants of our solar system’s birth.
Isidore found out that the Ancients believed, quite accurately, that Peridot was ejected to the Earth by a sun’s explosion and carried with it that sun's healing power.
He'd thought he'd found the most perfect creature to whom he was going to follow the family tradition of gifting this gem to. It was going to be a most pleasurable parting. As precious as the stone was, nothing was comparable to the love Isidore had grown for Abigail. He'd often told himself that if it was ever necessary, he'd not hesitate to give his life in exchange of hers. His love for her opened his consciousness to how much Jesus must've loved us and the saviour's desire to suffer the ignominy of the crucifixion for our salvation. Isidore had felt that this heartfelt commitment was entirely mutual.
He was wrong.
As he gloomily recalled the day of this discovery and the series of betrayals that followed, he absentmindedly stared at the stone which he held between his fingers to the light. His mind was far away, his thoughts were sombre and his face ashen.
It was at that moment he heard the voice. Soft. Tender. Feathery. Calming.
"In your hands," it had begun in a cadence that was soothing, "is the panacea for your heartbreak, my son."
Those last words opened his eyes to the source of the voice. Of course, he said to himself. It was his mother's mother. Her singsong tone had helped him sleep through nightmares and thunderstorms when she used to be alive. But ...
She was continuing, " ... Peridot remains regarded as both a day stone and a night stone, keeping its shining color even under artificial lighting. For this reason, it is sometimes called "Evening Emerald". It is also believed to be a gift from Mother Nature and considered a symbol of the yearly renewal of the planet."
He recalled reading such and wanted to say so, but he was both mesmerised by the musical quality of her voice and the ethereal notion of her presence. As she walked towards him, he remained spellbound by her appearance. She took the hand in which he had the gem and smiled with her lips and eyes.
"You were destined to come to possess this treasure of mine out of your siblings and cousins. It was by no coincidence. You have a good heart, my boy."
The smile was there again. Calming.
Then, the face became serious. And the voice, professorial.
"The peridot is an extraordinary crystal for healing the emotional body and resolving matters of the heart." It was as if grandma was clairvoyant. "It cleanses and heals hurt feelings and bruised egos, lessening anger, jealousy, resentment and spite, while teaching one to understand that holding onto people, or the past, is counterproductive to one’s growth. It teaches one to examine the past for the gift of the experiences, admit mistakes and let go of guilt and blame, forgiving oneself, or others, in order to move forward."
Isidore blinked. If there ever was a more timely message for him, he was yet to hear it. To move forward, to make progress he had to let go. And here was a gem entombed with the power to assist him on that path. He was honest enough to admit that he'd been holding on tenaciously to the hurt he'd suffered.
Grandma's voice cut into his thoughts, "Peridot stimulates psychological clarity and inspires a sense of happiness and contentedness in one’s life. It empowers one to detach the mind from outside influences and have confidence in one’s own abilities, looking inward for guidance and accessing the wisdom of the higher mind. It initiates independence and assertion without aggression, accepting the world as it is, then transforming it with clear intention to create the reality one wishes to have."
He needed to be open and introspective. He knew. Just that sometimes, he needed reminding. That was what he missed most about his mother. And about her mother too. She'd been ...
The notification tone of his smartphone chimed, instantaneously swooshing him back to reality. In the briefest of moments he thought he saw the gemstone pulsate like something alive. But it was gone in a flash. Blinking some more, he tried recollecting as much from his twilight reverie as he could while giving the precious stone he had in his palm a do over.
He'd conversed with his late grandma in such vivid realness that he couldn't believe it was anything but. And she'd dropped some wisdom on him as she was wont. Stuff he needed at this very moment. It was surreal.
He shook his head, digesting everything, sapient morsel by sapient morsel.
His phone emitted the tone again.
It was a notification from Facebook about a friend's post. He smiled upon reading it. It was as if today was a day for coincidences.
The post was a proverb. It read: "Keep towards the sunshine and the shadows will fall behind you."
It was even more so when Isidore held it between his fingers. Like most precious items, the quality of magnificence multiples upon physical personal experience. Nothing in the pictures he'd seen of it prepared him for the grandeur he beheld. He lifted it up to the light. The contoured edges of the gemstone glistened in the pale dues of the twilight. Depending on the edge touched by the light, a mesmerising kaleidoscope danced before his eyes.
"It carries the worth of the bearer in the value of its origin: the peridot."
Those were the words engraved on the insides of the band. He remembered how he'd first been confused by the message of that army of words until he checked what "peridot" meant. He ran a thumb over the gemstone, filling his sensate faculties with the allure of the precious stone. He recalled the information he'd gathered of the peridot and felt his being becoming one with the gem.
The glorious yellowish gold-green Peridot had been under-appreciated for years, overlooked as a lesser gem, small, easily obtained and relatively inexpensive. Its popularity had fallen in and out of vogue for centuries. However, a new resurgence was bringing to light what Peridot lovers had always known: the endearing allure of a truly remarkable stone.
Called “the extreme gem” by gem experts, the peridot was born of fire and brought to light, one of only two gems (Diamond is the other) formed not in the Earth’s crust, but in the molten rock of the upper mantle and brought to the Earth's surface by the tremendous forces of earthquakes and volcanoes. While these Peridots are born of Earth, other crystals of the Peridot class had extraterrestrial origins, found in rare meteorites (only 61 known to date) formed some billions of years ago, remnants of our solar system’s birth.
Isidore found out that the Ancients believed, quite accurately, that Peridot was ejected to the Earth by a sun’s explosion and carried with it that sun's healing power.
He'd thought he'd found the most perfect creature to whom he was going to follow the family tradition of gifting this gem to. It was going to be a most pleasurable parting. As precious as the stone was, nothing was comparable to the love Isidore had grown for Abigail. He'd often told himself that if it was ever necessary, he'd not hesitate to give his life in exchange of hers. His love for her opened his consciousness to how much Jesus must've loved us and the saviour's desire to suffer the ignominy of the crucifixion for our salvation. Isidore had felt that this heartfelt commitment was entirely mutual.
He was wrong.
As he gloomily recalled the day of this discovery and the series of betrayals that followed, he absentmindedly stared at the stone which he held between his fingers to the light. His mind was far away, his thoughts were sombre and his face ashen.
It was at that moment he heard the voice. Soft. Tender. Feathery. Calming.
"In your hands," it had begun in a cadence that was soothing, "is the panacea for your heartbreak, my son."
Those last words opened his eyes to the source of the voice. Of course, he said to himself. It was his mother's mother. Her singsong tone had helped him sleep through nightmares and thunderstorms when she used to be alive. But ...
She was continuing, " ... Peridot remains regarded as both a day stone and a night stone, keeping its shining color even under artificial lighting. For this reason, it is sometimes called "Evening Emerald". It is also believed to be a gift from Mother Nature and considered a symbol of the yearly renewal of the planet."
He recalled reading such and wanted to say so, but he was both mesmerised by the musical quality of her voice and the ethereal notion of her presence. As she walked towards him, he remained spellbound by her appearance. She took the hand in which he had the gem and smiled with her lips and eyes.
"You were destined to come to possess this treasure of mine out of your siblings and cousins. It was by no coincidence. You have a good heart, my boy."
The smile was there again. Calming.
Then, the face became serious. And the voice, professorial.
"The peridot is an extraordinary crystal for healing the emotional body and resolving matters of the heart." It was as if grandma was clairvoyant. "It cleanses and heals hurt feelings and bruised egos, lessening anger, jealousy, resentment and spite, while teaching one to understand that holding onto people, or the past, is counterproductive to one’s growth. It teaches one to examine the past for the gift of the experiences, admit mistakes and let go of guilt and blame, forgiving oneself, or others, in order to move forward."
Isidore blinked. If there ever was a more timely message for him, he was yet to hear it. To move forward, to make progress he had to let go. And here was a gem entombed with the power to assist him on that path. He was honest enough to admit that he'd been holding on tenaciously to the hurt he'd suffered.
Grandma's voice cut into his thoughts, "Peridot stimulates psychological clarity and inspires a sense of happiness and contentedness in one’s life. It empowers one to detach the mind from outside influences and have confidence in one’s own abilities, looking inward for guidance and accessing the wisdom of the higher mind. It initiates independence and assertion without aggression, accepting the world as it is, then transforming it with clear intention to create the reality one wishes to have."
He needed to be open and introspective. He knew. Just that sometimes, he needed reminding. That was what he missed most about his mother. And about her mother too. She'd been ...
The notification tone of his smartphone chimed, instantaneously swooshing him back to reality. In the briefest of moments he thought he saw the gemstone pulsate like something alive. But it was gone in a flash. Blinking some more, he tried recollecting as much from his twilight reverie as he could while giving the precious stone he had in his palm a do over.
He'd conversed with his late grandma in such vivid realness that he couldn't believe it was anything but. And she'd dropped some wisdom on him as she was wont. Stuff he needed at this very moment. It was surreal.
He shook his head, digesting everything, sapient morsel by sapient morsel.
His phone emitted the tone again.
It was a notification from Facebook about a friend's post. He smiled upon reading it. It was as if today was a day for coincidences.
The post was a proverb. It read: "Keep towards the sunshine and the shadows will fall behind you."
Chips - Part 6
But, today, good didn't cut it anymore. You had to be better than good. In fact, in this game of the 21st century, you had to be the ultimate BEAST.
That was why the other device with Taju he'd nicknamed BEAST. And subconsciously, Taju's hand went into his pocket to feel the physical presence of that tech marvel he'd engineered. The workaholic that he was ensured that he didn't rest on his oars at the discovery of the reach of his code-reversal. And with the events of this morning, he was glad he didn't.
Taju had had an advanced model of the chip he was to trade today neatly embedded inside this other device. What it did was as simple as the work that went into it was complex. For every online account and profile Taju had, the online behemoth that BEAST was matched with a pseudo-account and pseudo-profile. These duplicate accounts and profiles were complete with pictures, posts, passwords and even fake bank accounts with accompanying, lookalike bank transactions and statements mirroring real life scenarios. It cloned Taju's virtual world and saved all clones on all computers and devices that Taju used via back channels.
Then, it monitored Taju's real-time online traffic. Whenever Taju's accounts were hit with viral or malware attacks, it offered these fake copies up as if they real. It did this without delay and seamlessly such that the attacker never once suspected foul play.
Knowing how unreliable online security systems were, Taju had moved all copies of vital belongings offline, leaving behind online only stuff that was already public knowledge and in the public domain. He was in the business of cybersecurity. How anyone thought he was going to be that naïve beggared belief.
And what did the man say? That he'd dealt with people with more bite than Taju? It got Taju shaking his head.
That was the old school. That was the initial digital world. This was the new world. It was the age of the cloud. The times had changed. Tech evolution had sped up. And Deji ought to have taken his own advice. Because the man didn't look before leaping, he never knew the most beastly side of the BEAST and may never do until it was too late.
It was ingenious when Taju thought of this side and coded it into the algorithm of the BEAST's capability. When it surrendered the pseudo-copies and passwords of Taju's profiles and accounts to any intrusion systems it was also programmed to always embed in those copies Infiltrating Tracers, INFTRAs for short.
The task of these INFTRAs was to electronically copy the digital footprints of the servers and systems that attacked the accounts backed by the BEAST and save everything so copied in an encrypted folder locally. This remained latent until the saved folder gets a whiff of any internet connection or WiFi it can hack. It hacks through and activates an internal code that will promptly send all copied and saved items to the designated address in the cloud which will, on its own part, immediately notify the BEAST for onward redesignation.
This ingenuity contradicted Deji's claim because it was Taju that was going to be waiting for Deji to call with pleas of getting his company back - give or take 72 hours.
Taju smiled for the first time that day. It was a wicked smile. He called the eatery attendant and ordered takeaway. It promised to be an eventful day and he liked working on a full stomach.
That was why the other device with Taju he'd nicknamed BEAST. And subconsciously, Taju's hand went into his pocket to feel the physical presence of that tech marvel he'd engineered. The workaholic that he was ensured that he didn't rest on his oars at the discovery of the reach of his code-reversal. And with the events of this morning, he was glad he didn't.
Taju had had an advanced model of the chip he was to trade today neatly embedded inside this other device. What it did was as simple as the work that went into it was complex. For every online account and profile Taju had, the online behemoth that BEAST was matched with a pseudo-account and pseudo-profile. These duplicate accounts and profiles were complete with pictures, posts, passwords and even fake bank accounts with accompanying, lookalike bank transactions and statements mirroring real life scenarios. It cloned Taju's virtual world and saved all clones on all computers and devices that Taju used via back channels.
Then, it monitored Taju's real-time online traffic. Whenever Taju's accounts were hit with viral or malware attacks, it offered these fake copies up as if they real. It did this without delay and seamlessly such that the attacker never once suspected foul play.
Knowing how unreliable online security systems were, Taju had moved all copies of vital belongings offline, leaving behind online only stuff that was already public knowledge and in the public domain. He was in the business of cybersecurity. How anyone thought he was going to be that naïve beggared belief.
And what did the man say? That he'd dealt with people with more bite than Taju? It got Taju shaking his head.
That was the old school. That was the initial digital world. This was the new world. It was the age of the cloud. The times had changed. Tech evolution had sped up. And Deji ought to have taken his own advice. Because the man didn't look before leaping, he never knew the most beastly side of the BEAST and may never do until it was too late.
It was ingenious when Taju thought of this side and coded it into the algorithm of the BEAST's capability. When it surrendered the pseudo-copies and passwords of Taju's profiles and accounts to any intrusion systems it was also programmed to always embed in those copies Infiltrating Tracers, INFTRAs for short.
The task of these INFTRAs was to electronically copy the digital footprints of the servers and systems that attacked the accounts backed by the BEAST and save everything so copied in an encrypted folder locally. This remained latent until the saved folder gets a whiff of any internet connection or WiFi it can hack. It hacks through and activates an internal code that will promptly send all copied and saved items to the designated address in the cloud which will, on its own part, immediately notify the BEAST for onward redesignation.
This ingenuity contradicted Deji's claim because it was Taju that was going to be waiting for Deji to call with pleas of getting his company back - give or take 72 hours.
Taju smiled for the first time that day. It was a wicked smile. He called the eatery attendant and ordered takeaway. It promised to be an eventful day and he liked working on a full stomach.
Chips - Part 5
Taju watched them leave. The see-through glass walls of the eatery gave him an untrammeled view of their departure. The thumb drive with the super-secure chip he was to trade with them felt like a ton of bricks in his pocket now. They never even so much as asked him for it.
If the circumstances were different he'd have applauded. He was impressed. Immensely. He surmised that this was why RC maintained its impressive business model year-on-year. Such a hawk at the top guaranteed so much and gave them tremendous leverage in the dog-eat-dog world of tech innovation. The man was too good.
Plus, they had an inside R&D team working on new stuff that wasn't even out in the market yet. And he gave them the chance to try it out. Now, he knew why the notification indicator didn't stop blinking. They were remotely cloning his phone. That was the premonition nudging him at the back of his mind throwing up red flags which he initially couldn't place.
He sat down heavily. This was where his fantastical ideas had brought him. He shook his head thinking about his dreams. It had been a chance occurrence from the beginning. He was coding a programme that could compile into an app which afforded a user the opportunity to have a single sign-in for all the user's online transactions and that securely stored bank account details in the cloud.
But his code failed every security test he ran on it and with each code-editing he did, the failure rate skyrocketed. He'd all but given up until an idea occurred to him one night after he'd nearly smashed his laptop in frustration and had gone to cool off in the shower. As the icy droplets of harmattan-cultured shower splashed about his exhausted frame, he realised that if he reversed the code to render other security systems obsolete rather than attempt to secure privacy online, he could embed that algorithm in a secure chip which he could trade to a cybersecurity firm.
He reckoned that they'd be able to use it to convince companies of the need for extra vigilance online and display why these companies ought to take the cybersecurity services they provided onboard. That much he'd done with REDBRIDGE CYBERGUARD thinking he'd scored big. But they'd gone and turned the tables on his head.
Taju shook his head. They were good. He was honest enough to admit that much.
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