Chapter 38.

I first tried the most simplistic and obvious code I came up with based upon the EGPI written in the title of the notebook; I exchanged each letter with the number that looked closest to them.

‘3691’

It was my first attempt where I immediately stumbled into a rabbit hole. After I punched the numbers in, I came to a horrible realization. Her passcode wasn’t limited to only four numbers. I keyed in a few more numbers and realized it took as many numbers as I could put in.

Since it was still my first attempt I tried it once with 3691 to see if by some off chance it took it. Of course, it was naturally a failure. Only a small vibration along with a horizontal shake of the passcode box was returned to me in response to my valiant efforts. I proceeded to enter the next code I thought of by substituting the letter with the number that corresponded to its place in the alphabet.

‘57169’

Another vibration was returned upon my second failed attempt. Like a gambler who refused to concede defeat, I immediately replaced each letter with their ASCI character code.

‘69718073’

All that returned my efforts was yet another cold hearted vibration. For my fourth attempt I tried the most blatant possibility, I selected the number that corresponded to the letters on the phone itself.

‘3474’

Before I knew it, only two attempts remained. I doubted myself and actually wondered whether the typo in the title was really just a careless mistake after all. However, I was too invested in the typo being a hint to give up now. Maybe the typo indicated the page in the notebook where the passcode was on.

I turned to the 16th page which corresponded to its position in the alphabet. I found a pie chart that displayed the percentages of the company’s income channels. It appeared the company gained the majority of its profit through the repairs and various labor duties us repair technicians performed. Altogether 36% of total revenue was generated by the workforce, 25% came from investors, while 23% came from high returns on investments made in the company’s name. The remaining 16% came from a section titled miscellaneous. There was a list which went into more detail about what miscellaneous entailed, but it was likely irrelevant to what I wanted to know. It was a long shot but I tried using the percentages as the code.

‘36252316’

It was already my fifth attempt and what I got for all my efforts was another cold hearted vibration, it signaled I only had one last chance. Yes, only once chance to get it correct with the limited time that remained. It was do or die. Truly, mission impossible. I knew. I knew it was unlikely, but I was unresigned to my fate. What did I really expect out of this all anyways? I went into it even when I was certain of the futility, but I still tried anyways. I dreamed. I dreamed a dream where passcodes were easy as they once were in the not so long ago past.

Is it a crime to dream? I ask you, is it?! Is it?! Well... it was a total invasion of her privacy, but we don’t talk about that. My psychotic exes also don’t talk about it, so why should I when it’s inconvenient to me?

I was just about to give up when I mused to myself over the passcode I used on my own phone. It wasn’t any coincidence that my thoughts flew to my own password, rather, it was likely I’d been subliminally led to think of it. It was the pie chart and the letters PI, the incorrectly written company initials in the notebook’s title that guided my thoughts towards it. As a way to remember pi, I used quite a few significant digits of pi as my phone’s passcode to get me to memorize it. Over time I increased the significant figures by five every now and then for... fun and I learned many significant figures of pi over time as a result. Please don’t judge my questionable outlook on fun.

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When I thought about the pie chart in the notebook, I found it ironic that the mistake in the title had PI at the end of it. Was it just a coincidence? That was of course until I thought back to my first attempt when I tried 3691. Was I just trying to find connections in things that were in actual fact completely unrelated? Was it just a coincidence that the highest percentage of revenue was 36%? If it wasn’t, then was the mistaken company title itself actually literally telling you what the password was?

It couldn’t really be this, right? Thirty six digits of pi?

‘314159265358979323846264338327950288’

I keyed it in as a joke, not really expecting much. I knew right now I was just senselessly trying to find connections between things that were most likely unrelated to each other; they were likely a result of pure coincidence after all. It was just like that stupid movie that revolved around a certain number whose god forsaken name shall not be mentioned. I knew there wasn’t much chance to really guess it correctly, regardless of how much I thought about it, so I figured I’d try it just to sate my curiosity with this last, nonsensical, conspiracy theory type of guess. 

When it failed, I’d just gracefully admit my defeat, put her phone back, and forget about it. I’ll move on with my life and there shall be no salt spilled from any pore of my body. I’m far too sophisticated for that and a defeat was a defeat. 

After all's said and done, there really wasn’t anything too extreme that I could pick out from the way she acted around me that really led me to believe she was a psychopath. All of this was just because of my own paranoia. She’d never done anything overly wrong for me to be suspicious to the point that it warranted an invasion of her privacy like this. She’d actually been nothing but kind and caring despite her slightly pushy nature and occasional joke to dock my innocent paycheck that had done no wrong. Well, of course, whether it was a joke would be for me to find out on my next paycheck though.

I pressed OK on the touchscreen and instinctively gave up immediately. I reached out to place the phone back into her purse when I realized there was no vibration like on my prior attempts. I tilted the phone back towards my direction and realized I’d successfully unlocked it. In my state of disbelief, I didn’t really know where to start looking. I didn’t really plan this far ahead because I thought it was unlikely to ever get into her phone to begin with. 

Seeing as I was now in, the first thing I did was open up her search history in Safari to see what types of things she’d searched recently. From past experience, search history was a tell tale sign as to what type of person someone was. Search engines had it down to a science when it came to targeted advertisements these days. My motto was, learn by example; if the big guys used it, naturally I could as well.

At least, that was until my heart dropped to rock bottom when I saw her search history. It wasn’t because I saw anything that indicated she was out of her mind, it’s just that the most recent search result was, “Well now, whatever shall I do with my nosy employee who managed to get into my phone while I went to the washroom? Should I fire him? Maybe blackmailing him into working for free would be nice.” The time she made that search was slightly before she left for the toilet.

You’ve got to be kidding me. There’s no way... right?!

The second most recent search result was, “I’m impressed you managed to figure out the passcode with that tiny hint I left on my notebook. Should I praise you for your efforts?”

Is she actually having a conversation with me through search results right now?

The third most recent search result was, “How should I threaten my employee who I recorded sleeping on the job again so he will stop slacking off at every possible opportunity presented to him?”

The mission impossible music that played in my head since the start immediately came to a scratchy abrupt stop. It was suddenly replaced by the jaws theme. The hunter was suddenly the hunted.