HELP

The alarm rang on my bedside. I reached out to it and turned it off. Usually I would’ve groggily searched for the phone and not have found it until I was fully awake and conscious, but today I wasn’t asleep for the alarm to wake me up.

Trauma is a dreadful thing, isn’t it? It was for only five minutes or so that I was tied up for, and yet, why is it that I fear every innocent thing that's around me? Why is it that I have the urge to puke at the sight of the color red, and my mind pictures a blood drenched floor? Why is it that I hear Emma crying during an utterly silent and still night? Why is it that I see a pale boy begging for my help in my dreams?

I slowly got off the bed and walked into the kitchen. I heard my dad hum the song that was playing on his phone, while he broke an egg on the pan. He then threw the egg shells to a side and began moving his butt along with the beat of the music.

“Don’t ya think I’m hot? Don’t ya think I’m hot, oh lady!” He sang. “tararara tararara~”

He then skillfully tossed the omelet into the air and caught it on a plate and set it on the tiny dining table, in a smooth practiced motion.

He noticed me coming and greeted me joyfully. “GOOD MORNING ANN!”

He then continued enjoying his weirdly tasteful music.

I sat on the couch and turned the television on, which greeted me to a news channel that was covering the incident of an explosion in a house located at the outskirts of the city.

Ugh, I can’t handle this negativity.

About another hour later, me and my dad sat at the dining table, both ready to go to school and job after we were done eating our breakfast. I slowly nibbled on the food, listening to my dad’s playlist on the speaker.

“By the way, how did your interview go?” My dad asked me.

“It went well.” I replied.

“NICE!” He exclaimed. “Can’t wait to read the article.”

A few moments elapsed, while he continued to bob his head from side to side and occasionally sang the lyrics of the song wrongly. Then he continued, “Oh, yeah, Ann. Yesterday when I went shopping a kid told me that I look like I am twenty-five. And then her father agreed and began telling me that I look much younger than-”

This man’s excitement is enough to make me forget all about yesterday.

***

Steve joined his desk with mine. He took out his textbook and placed it at the center of the now joined desks.

The history teacher paid little attention to our arrangement and continued his lecture about the after effects of the Epoch wars and how they led to the Avandor-Jarkhal war. From the corner of my eye I noticed Steve sincerely listening to the class, although I doubt how much of it he would retain after an hour.

You see, Steve is stupid when it comes to academics. He might excel in everything else, but his grades are consistently F grades. Well, the fact that he doesn’t attend most classes and instead runs off to football practice explains partly why.

On the other hand, there’s me. My worst score ever to the best of my knowledge was an A grade. I don’t have much going on in my life so grades have become a means for measuring my achievement. That said, I am no teacher’s pet. I used to attend school regularly only because I had nothing to do at home and now I do because I get to meet Steve.

I reached out to Steve’s hand from under the desk and held onto it gently. A mild blush formed on his face moments after my move. As time went on his attention shifted from the lecture to-

“Excuse me, sir. Annabelle is being called to the principal’s office.” A familiar voice announced.

Steve stared wide-eyed at his little sister standing at the entrance to the class.

The teacher looked at me and ushered me to go with the girl.

“What’s happening?” Steve whispered, his face expressing how concerned he was.

I left the room and followed behind the girl. After walking only 3 steps I learnt that this girl clearly didn’t know where the principal’s office was.

“You want to talk about something?” I asked.

“Yes!” Her eyes brightened. She grabbed me by the hand and jogged me to a secluded balcony on the third floor of the school. She closed the glass doors behind us. I followed her to the end of the balcony which oversaw the nearby mountains and rested my hands on the railing, enjoying the momentary serenity of the silence. I used to frequently visit all the six such secluded places in the entire campus, this being one of them when I wanted to burn down the city.

“I need your help, Annie.” Emma commanded politely.

Help? From me? How could I help someone who owns and builds mechas? Does she want me to go undercover like the last time? No way in hell am I ever doing something similar ever again.

I waited for her to continue, but when she didn’t seem to say anything, I asked, “what is it?”

I saw her fidget in her place for a second and suddenly she said, “I want you to help me make friends.”

Wut?

She called me out from a class with thirty students to ask me this?

A silence arose due to the suddenness and out-of-the-blue nature of her request. Maybe it was indeed unreasonable of me to not have a reply, given how being kidnapped and having seen someone on the brink of death- impaled through their chest lying in a pool of their own blood- are minor petty inconveniences when compared to what she was asking.

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Emma explained further, “I went to class this morning for the first time. People started talking to me, asking to be friends with them and all, but I didn’t know how to reply. I just stayed quiet, so maybe they thought I was cocky-”

“What makes you think I could help you with making friends?” I interrupted.

“Well… you made me your friend in no time. And you have a boyfriend, so you must know how to talk to people.”

Wait, Emma and I are friends? Since when? Not to mention, she thought I took the lead in forming a bond between us?

Showing up out of nowhere, talking to me like we knew each other, asking me to visit her house even though we were practically strangers, almost killing me because she thought I attacked her friend, and sharing her secrets that I didn’t even ask for. What part of this made her think I was the one initiating?

And the boyfriend part? Girl, just so you know, this personal space intrusion must be in your genes. I had never once initiated a conversation with her brother before we started dating. He was the one who chose to sit beside me in class. He chose to talk to me even when I ignored him. Carried me in his arms to the school medic when I got injured during sports, even though I could walk fine (I injured my hand, but couldn’t say no to being treated like a princess). I’m not mad that he did all that, no sir, I'm just pointing out how I wouldn't be dating him now if his type wasn't weird girls.

Looking at Emma’s expectant eyes, I felt the urge to respond to her request. So I said some bullshit I remembered reading online when I searched for something similar. “Always smile. Always make eye contact. Ask for favors. Reply to whatever they say. ”

Emma probably took a mental note of all the things I said. Poor little creature asking the sinner for salvation.

“How do I reply to them though? Whenever someone asks me a question, I freeze.”

How am I supposed to know? People don’t even make the effort of talking to me.

“Talk to them like you talk to Nathan.” I replied. And suddenly I remembered all the questions I needed answering. “By the way, how is Nathan now?”

“He’s fine. But he is really pissed. Whoever attacked him, it’s only a matter of time before their life is screwed.”

“It’s not related to hacking the bank, is it?” I questioned, ready to jump off the balcony if she pulled out another weapon.

“Nope. Apparently Nathan was working on another request that he had got on the dark web for some cash. That went... wrong." She said. I intently looked at her, waiting for her to explain, which came after a minute of silence, "He had to intercept a signal transmission and decode it. He captured the message and made a copy of it. We don’t know what happened after that. Nathan suspects that the sender of the encrypted message somehow learnt about Nathan’s interception. Not only that but also his precise location. Just after minutes of his message capture ten thugs arrived at his doorstep and began to beat him up, asking for who sent the request. Then Nathan somehow used the emergency call device that I had given him once. Honestly, I never thought that he would have to use it, but I’m glad I did make the device for him. Then I swooped in and saved his ass.”

Just who did this kid mess with?

“Where is he now?”

“In my basement.” Emma replied. “He’s locked himself inside. He won’t let me in to check on him and shouts that he needs alone time. That’s MY research space goddammit!” She ranted.

It did make sense that he wasn’t back home. He could get into trouble anytime considering how the attacker knows his location. But I expected him to be admitted to a hospital or something. Then again, it probably isn’t safe there either.

“Anyways, tell me how to make friends!” Emma demanded.

“Let’s talk about it after school.” I said. I immediately absconded after the successfully buying myself time to read more online websites for making friends.

***

School ended and I dropped off Steve at the football field for his daily practice. Then I made a call to Emma asking her where she was. She told me that she forgot about our talk and went home already. Just when I felt relieved that I don’t have to defend the high expectations that my junior held for me, she insisted that I go to her house immediately.

There were far too many questions I needed answering so I followed along.

One would ask, why even after the incident that scarred me enough to make me stay awake at nights am I trying to stick my nose deeper into this dangerous science-y world of robots, hackers and villains when I could just dust my hands off and part my way with it.

Pandora probably thought the same way before she opened the box. But it’s because she let vile things into our world that we have interesting stories to tell, lives to live and pain to experience. Without those, life is just plain boring. One could argue against this point of view, so here’s another reason for my choice. I was curious. I wanted to see how deep this went. I needed to know more about this whole fiction-like world that I was oblivious to only a day ago. A world that is somehow lurking in the shadows of reality.

And curiosity is a very powerful feeling. If it weren’t for curiosity I wouldn’t try to trespass into Steve’s house that night. Or begin to investigate his dad. Or do this now. Curiosity has led me to some wild things over the past. For now, I shall board its waves and move forward.

I got onto the public transit and read a few more articles on how to make friends on my way. Just like the other day, I got through the huge front gate of the Miller’s house (mansion) without a hitch. Emma greeted me at the porch and led me through the house, devoid of its residents, to the end of the corridor where her room is. There she pulled the vinyl floor board aside to reveal a metal door. She threw it open with considerable effort and walked down a flight of stairs. After going at least five floors deep into the ground we were stopped by a locked metal door from entering the basement.

Emma knocked on the metal door.

“Leave me alone Emma.” Nathan groaned from the other side.

“Nathan, Annie is here and this is not the way to treat a guest.” Emma said. I was quite surprised at how well she managed to say something only a mother character from a soap opera would say.

Nathan unlocked the door promptly.

He wore a white shirt that fit him tightly, revealing the multiple layers of fat over his bone. I recognised the shirt as one of Steve’s. His skin gained back it’s natural healthy color. His chest had no bandages. For the most part it looked like he had never been injured.

Nathan walked to one of the work stations and plopped on the chair beside it. On the table was a laptop that had green text scrolling in and out of view.

“What are you doing?” Emma asked, the mild amount of prior politeness now gone and replaced by annoyance.

“I can neither crack the encryption nor trace the person who sent the request.” Nathan said sulkily.

“Why did you decide to even take up such a risky request to begin with?” I butted in and asked.

“I didn’t know it was going to be risky, that’s why. The request said that it was a test for a bigger mission that had something to do with stopping a terrorist attack.”

After his statement was met with my incredulous look, Nathan himself felt the need to explain his reasoning better. “I have taken up several such missions before. If you do not know, I was the one who stopped the Kaipurr mall explosions. And the Gorlov river poisoning. And the Finch-”

The request raised enough red flags for any sane person to safely ignore it.

All the incidents that Nathan referred to were real terrorist attacks that were nipped in the planning stage and weren’t successfully executed. I knew almost nothing about them, except the fact that all the incidents were planned by the same terrorist organization and a year ago the entire organization was wiped out in a covert mission.

“The request was from an anonymous person whose identity I couldn’t track, which is a very usual thing on the dark web. The person told me that he was part of a resistance team that was trying to stop an upcoming terrorist attack in Gorlov and they needed a hacker for the job. But they needed to test me before they selected me, and I agreed. The person told me what I had to do. Basically I had to intercept an E2E encryption secured transaction. I did an MITM attack and retrieved a copy of the original message. There weren’t any problems so far. But I fucked up in the next step. I assumed that the encryption on the message would be a simple one as well considering-”

“English, please.” I requested.

Nathan sighed. He buried his face in his hands and mouthed words I couldn't figure out. After a moment he sat straight in his chair again.

“Imagine this. You build a tunnel from your house to your boyfriend’s. So to talk to him you shout into the tunnel and he listens to you on the other end. The tunnel is a connection between you and him. And the tunnel is a secured connection, because others can’t listen in. Now, what I do is make a small hole in the tunnel and listen. That’s called a Man in the Middle or MITM for short.”

“Why would it be called secure if you got into the tunnel so easily?” I asked.

“It’s not that the tunnel isn’t secure, Nathan is just too good at what he does.” Emma explained.

Right.

“Yes. Anyways. Let’s say you were talking to your boyfriend in a different language, a language only the two of you know. So now, I have listened to what you were saying, but I still can’t understand it unless I learn the language. I need to learn the language and translate it back into english, that’s decryption.” Nathan paused, evaluating my expression to learn how much I had understood of what he said. Satisfied by my nonchalant expression he continued, “Back to what I was saying, I tried decrypting the message, assuming that it was a simple encryption, considering how easy the earlier interception stage was. But I had gravely underestimated the mission. I have never seen an encryption like it before. Not only was it robust, but when I tried to analyze the encryption algorithm it took over my pc and shut me out of it even when I was running a VM. I think it also sent a signal to the sender or the receiver about the fact that the security has been compromised along with my coordinates. Minutes later, those bastards showed up and you know the rest.”

Emma grabbed two chairs that were lying around and arranged them near the workstation. She sat on one of them and signaled me to do the same.

“But I still don’t get it. How did the Medix healball end up in your bag?” Emma questioned. “There is just no way it would be lying in a random kidnap vehicle. It’s a prototype that even we have no access to.”

Prototype? Man, they need to do a lot more explaining for me to wrap my head around conversations like these.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Nathan asked.

I nodded my head in affirmation.

“Medix ball is an angel-project, as in it's- ” Emma began speaking, only to be interrupted by Nathan.

“I think it's better to not tell her. She knows way too much already,". Before Emma could say anything more, he continued, "It could be a threat to her life, Emma."

A silence ensued. Nathan refused to let Emma speak more and fear replacced my curiosity after what Nathan said. Suddenly my phone rang, the ringtone reverbating through the cave like basement. I picked it up, "Hello, cupcake. I came home early today and guess what? A LOT of my clothes are missing. I literally don't have any clothes to wear right now. Wait no, I need clarify that I do have my uniform on, before you get any horny thoughts. Anyways, what to go shopping tomorrow after school?"

"Yeah, sure."