In the following days, I watched every vehicle approaching Sagingan Haven with the eyes of a trained hawk. The whole Ashes to Atienza website could have been a ruse set up by the Giants, and this reality dawned on me as I waited. I hadn’t told Uncle Nestor I sent the message, either. Maybe a more rational thinker would have taken their time to poke holes and defuse all the possible cyber traps, but not me. I was desperate to see my sister.
Two days later, a trike stopped outside the gates to Sagingan. It must have driven at least twenty minutes down the winding roads to get here, meaning the driver must have been paid a lot, or needed the money badly. Maybe both.
I watched the girl from one of the security cameras inside the compound. Her hair was shoulder-length, and that was my first doubt this was Janice. But when I saw her face, I wished I could have reached through the screen and jumped to her.
We had protocols to practice at Sagingan to keep the operation secret. Maybe Uncle Nestor didn’t trust my sister like I did. However, he hadn’t spent his life with her, and I knew Janice wouldn’t compromise me like this, not after what I had done for her all these years.
From the entrance, a car took Janice into the underground. She stepped out. I ran for her, realizing at that moment how much of her death I had stowed away and not been thinking about.
I let it all out, and so did she.
----------------------------------------
“It was the perfect PR stunt,” said Janice after we came down from our reunion. “Sorry. I could have reached out to you. I really could have. But I wanted my disappearance to be part of the angle. We have a lot of the subway bombing survivors on our side as well as families of the victims.” She made a rectangle shape with her hands and raised it to her eyes, mimicking a camera. “Those are the stories that stick. Imagine a phoenix rising from the ashes. Imagine a hundred of them. No one ever forgets about phoenixes.”
I hung on to her every word as if they were the last she’d speak. I was just glad to have her back. “You don’t think it’s too bold to label yourselves Ashes to Atienza? I mean, I’m proud of you, but damn. You’re putting a target over your head.”
“We know, but Filipinos deserve to know the truth. We will uncover everything.”
“You’re going to stir up a hornet’s nest.”
“That’s precisely the point, brother.”
I laughed, and she did, too, and we shared words like this over lunch and dinner. She made chismis with Shay, and I introduced her to Reggie and Andrei, telling her about the harrowing rescue and that we were still, very much, under the watchful gaze of the streaming giants.
I told her, too, about my six months at Sagingan Haven and our plans for Black Fire Online. As soon as I mentioned the social network, she beamed. At first, I didn’t know why.
“Does all the content have to be related to shows?” Janice asked.
My gut reaction was to say yes, but I paused and considered. “Maybe. Maybe not. Why?”
She didn’t answer the question. Not right away, at least. “Somewhere to post links?”
I nodded. “And? Why?”
Janice pursed her lips in thought. “Atienza is on the side of the Giants,” she said. “Anything that you do goes against the Giants, and it also goes against Atienza. So, in a way, you’ve picked a side already.”
She may have been right about that. I didn’t appreciate President Atienza either. After all, she had brought the Giants to the Philippines and, as Janice said, was very much on their side. Anyone with the Giants was an enemy to us.
Still, I didn’t know what she was getting at, but this discussion reminded me of a different point. “Did you ever discover why the Giants came to Manila specifically?”
Janice didn’t think long about her answer. “Corruption. Huge favors from the government. Wealth to the higher-ups of those companies. I’m sure of it.”
That last line made me pause. “You’re not sure.”
She shook her head. “I’ll find out. We have leaks and informants. We have access to classified information and the minds to parse through it.” She smiled at me. “That’s how I knew it was you. Clever message, by the way.”
“Yeah. That was Shay’s idea.”
“She’s a writer? We could always use more writers.”
That might not be a bad idea. “You can let her know yourself. For now, we have to create BFO.”
“And do what with it?”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
I coughed. The question threw me off guard. “What do you mean?”
“Like, what’s its purpose?” Janice looked around. “Just make money off it?”
I squinted at her. “Does there need to be another purpose?”
Janice sighed. “What I mean is that Black Fire Online has the potential to be a lot more than something that makes you money.” She thumbed through her phone before setting it face down on a table. “Did you ever hear about Anonymouse?”
“Anonymouse? Like… the rodent?”
“Yeah. That was their name. Anyway, they were a hacker group in Vietnam. Not foreigners, either, but native Vietnamese. They were around in the 2030s. They shut down the New York Stock Exchange for two days.”
“Holy shit. That was them?” I heard of the story—everyone I knew had. “But why are you telling me this?”
“We had an assignment on them in school. Anyway, they had a wide reach—people in Singapore, Dubai, Thailand, Indonesia, and here in the Philippines, too. They hacked Google, Facebook, Apple, Infusion Motors, Gateway Chips, and a bunch of other Fortune 500 companies. Just because they could. They always seemed to avoid detection. That is, until the very end. You know why?”
I had heard stories like this before. “Let me guess. They got too confident and made a mistake?”
Janice shook her head. “They never had a way to talk to each other.”
I squinted. “Then how the hell did they do anything?”
“They had limited communication, of course, but the stuff was heavily monitored. Even the encrypted chats on their messaging apps weren’t exactly encrypted.”
The more she described it, the more I remembered. “I don’t see what you’re getting at,” I told her. I paused as my thoughts settled, and I understood. “You want to use Black Fire Online as a communication network for A2A?”
Janice raised her eyebrows. “Jayson, it doesn’t have to be that narrow. It can be for anyone. Imagine unsanctioned communication from the government across the Philippines. Something from the eyes of Atienza, the PNP, and the Giants. Something no one can surveil.”
That sounded idyllic, a future the Philippines would never have. “Look, even if that is possible, I’m not going to be the one to bring it forward. That’s huge.”
“Not as huge as you think. You’ll have the features, right? Commenting. Sharing links. Private messaging.”
“Not private messaging,” I clarified, saying nothing about the other two because Reggie and I had already planned those features.
“You could add it.”
“Even if we did, BFO isn’t meant for anti-government communication.”
“Then share the code with us.”
I frowned. “What?”
“Share the code with us, Jayson. We can copy it and use it ourselves. How hard can it be?”
“No.”
Janice blinked. “What?”
“No. You’re not getting it.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to be poor again.”
I didn’t know where the words came from, but they were true. I didn’t want to slave over a desk for a streaming giant. I didn’t want to put up with any foreign capitalist bosses to make a living. I didn’t want to follow anyone’s lead. I could do this all on my own.
Janice tightened her lips. “You’re not poor anymore. You haven’t been for a while.”
“And I won’t ever be again,” I said. “If I give you the code, who knows what will come of it? It might get stolen. Do you trust everyone in A2A?”
“They’re good people,” Janice muttered while looking down. She didn’t answer the question directly.
“Well, I don’t know that. I don’t trust them.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But that’s what you mean.”
I exhaled slowly, doing my best to contain myself. I couldn’t remember the last time the two of us fought. Once Papa’s health started declining, we didn’t have time for sibling rivalries. “I trust you,” I said. “Of course I do. But we’ve worked hard for this.”
“I get it,” said Janice. “You don’t want to lose what you have. But you can trust me. No one else is going to know.”
I honestly wanted to promise my sister that I’d give her the code once it was complete. I wanted to trust her. But I also knew that this operation’s delicate line required secrecy, even among family. “I’m sorry,” I said.
Janice leaned back, straightened, and narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re being just like our mother.”
That hurt—more than it should have. I never told Janice I had pushed our mother into the line of fire, but she was smart. She would have figured out that I was one of the reasons why she hadn’t seen her mother again and that I had avoided talking about the woman.
“I will never be like her,” I said. “Never in my god damned life. Take that back.”
Janice flinched, and I immediately regretted saying it. I had never raised my voice to her. Ever.
Janice looked down. “I’m sorry. I… shouldn’t have asked.” She appeared to mull over her thoughts. Then, she did something I didn’t expect. She smiled. “You know what? You’ve changed, Jayson.”
I didn’t say anything for a few moments as those words settled. “How?”
“You’re not so complacent anymore. Unlike before, you kind of just… rolled with things. Now, it seems you’re actually taking the initiative to get out of that life we had.” She found my hand and squeezed it. “But that’s just it, Jayson. You’re already out. Remember that. Remember that Papa would approve of you doing anything so long as you are happy.”
I hoped she was right.
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Late that night, I found Reggie hunched over his laptop outside. It must have been past midnight. After disturbing his moment of peace, I told him about my entire conversation with Janice. He listened keenly until I told him Janice wanted the code.
“Yeah, no way,” Reggie murmured. “You said the right thing.”
It was what I needed to hear.
“You ever heard of ‘scope creep?’” Reggie continued, closing his laptop’s lid. “It’s an old project management term. It basically means when a product gains so many new features that it deviates from its original vision.” He folded his hands together. “This is scope creep. Pictures, videos, comments, and content are one thing, but instant messaging is another. We’ll need a new code and a new back end. WhatsApp, Telegram, Skype, Discord? All those apps weren’t made in a day. What your sister is suggesting is insane.”
“I wish you were there when I was talking to her.”
“Next time, I should be.”
I noted that, and as I looked down, I found Reggie still staring at me.
“Hey,” he said. “She’s your sister, I understand, but she knows nothing about code. She can’t be calling shots like that.”
Reggie was only a few years older than me, but this sounded like a conversation I’d be having with Papa. “Thanks,” I said as my thoughts stirred. What gives you the right to ‘call the shots’ anyway? You just got here.
Family first, I knew that. Episode 2 of The Crest and its Killers taught me that lesson. However, what did Episode 5 tell me as well? Lead when required, not when you want to. I needed to be a leader. I needed to pick a side.
I chose Black Fire’s.