Chapter 3

Vertical Technologies Ltd., Lagos Headquarters.

Prime dealers in computer hardware components, accessories, and leaders in the mass importation of smartphones, laptops, desktops, printers, cameras, and other gadgets. The building was a modern marvel. You could tell that it has undergone numerous renovations. Old as the Tafawa Balewa Stadium. The High-rise building towered at six-stories and the company insignia constructed at the top.

The black Venza came to a stop at the front entrance and a pair of Italian shoes kissed the washed interlocked tiles. Mr. Oladele Olalekan's fitted navy blue three-piece suit was knit-sharp as his slender 5-foot-ten frame smartly made it to the front entrance.

The motion sensors picked up, welcoming the billionaire.  The secretary’s greeted him with a warm inviting smile. He gave her a slight nod. A couple of ‘good mornings’ from his employees had him nodding like a Lizard. Never really paying much attention to the faces or their mechanical courtesies, he got into the elevator and Miss Bimbo, the public relations officer was in it, holding a couple of files to her violent bosoms.

“Good morning, sir.” She greeted.

“You too.” He replied.

Mr. Olalekan scrutinized her voluminously milky jugs through the mirroring walls of the elevator. The sight, he had to admit, was a delightful one. When they got to the landing and he waited for Miss Bimbo to step out first. He watched that behind dance into the chill of the executive floor where his state-of-the-art glass office stood, along with the other executive offices. Designed with by one of the finest interior designers in Lagos, Mr. Olalekan’s office, from wall to floor, desk to chair and shelves, looked like an ice den with glass-like walls separating each office from the other.

Other executive offices had their outstanding design. Mark Twain, the Indian-looking Lebanese guy had his office designed with a wood theme. But each had the same architectural design. Meant to create a friendly fusion between employer and employee, and to get rub-offs from their conversations.

Ola also enjoyed the female structure especially when it is appealing.

Pamela, his overweight assistant was on his tail as he walked into his glass cubicle. “Why weren't you taking my calls?”

“I was busy.” He took his seat as he powered his MacBook.

“I needed you last night.” This statement irked him. After one breezy night together, her feeble heart was already palpitating.

“And I was busy. Look, Pam, this is an office environment. I would not want my people whispering nonsense instead of working; keep the air clean.”

His words were like a pin to Pamela's balloon. She fell silent, clenching fists.

Olalekan felt her eyes bore into him but he was too occupied to give a damn.

He had a couple of mails.

One, in particular, made him stiffen. “Pam, we'll talk later, right now can I have a little privacy?”

“How rude of you. You are a heartless man. I should have known!” She stumped out. Olalekan watched her chunky behind bounce out of his office.

Nice.

He opened the mail.

Skimming through its contents made him sit up.

I HAVE GOOD NEWS AND BAD NEWS. CALL ME WHEN YOU READ THIS.

Marvelous. After nearly five million invested in the research and scouting, he has finally found it. Ola felt like celebrating this first step closer to victory but the mention of bad news dissolved his momentary happiness. He brought his phone out of his pockets and turned on his VPN.

And placed a call to a friend.

***

Seven checked the incoming call.

It was Milkos.

He did not hesitate to pick.

“Baba, what's up now?” Seven could hear the music playing faintly in the background.

Bastille.

Milkos loved the band.

“If I say, ‘I'm fine’ I’d be lying.” Seven replied.

“Hmm. Then what I'm about to tell you will make you feel even worse – I wasn't able to find anybody with that name on the net bro.”

Seven was perplexed, “I'm sorry, come again?”

“Dude,” Milkos’ voice bore irritation. “That name isn't attached to any credible profile or any handle on all the social networks I scouted. I even tried the specific search feature on F******k and Twitter using the right keywords but nobody has ever interacted with that name.”

Seven was in the parking lot of his faculty building, sitting on a wooden bench that was strategically located close to a tree. The weather was cool, although the sun shone violently. Students took shade under a big mango tree, catching up with their friends and others were on their way home. Amidst all that ruckus, everything felt cemetery-quiet to Seven. Talking to his friend over the phone and receiving such confusing news, sent beads of sweat running down his temple.

There was an area Milkos’ news drove at and Seven was unwilling to nurse the thought.

“Sev?” There. “I am asking you for the last time, are you sure she’s not…?”

“She’s real. She's definitely real.”

Is she?

Milkos let out a depressing sigh that made Seven’s shoulders to fall.

“Well, maybe you aren't getting the name correctly, or maybe she never told you her real name. Whatever the case, I'll keep trying my best from this side and I'll sha get back to you. Nor fear guy.”

“You too much, guy. Thank you.”

“Guy, stay good. Do not stress yourself too much o. You never born, you never get family.” Milkos chuckled.

Powerful words. Seven let a smile crease his lips. “No wahala. E go be.”

He killed the call.

Great unrest made Seven lose interest in his meal.

This left his mother worried.

He thought about Janet all day and night. He scrolled through his F******k timeline; passing new uploads and new challenges, a bunch of misguided posts that he would normally correct popped up, but he scrolled past.

F******k was irritating, Twitter was annoying. Seven logged out and opened his gallery. He scrolled to one of her pictures that she had sent. She was wearing a purple cardigan that had, "Carolina" spelled across her bosom. She was holding out a peace sign with her free hand, looking so happy. He loved this picture above anyone else.

Her goofy smile.

She had never been a carefree person. Right from the moment, they started talking she was always brutally sarcastic, subtly serious, but this dark-humored girl who had gotten him for good. Seven observed that she was always sounding so happy over the phone. But it was not the kind you envisioned with a smile on the lips. Just this distinct gaiety.

He studied the picture for a little while.

He sighed.

“I can't believe I'm about to do this.” Seven said aloud. Going to his home screen, open G****e Chrome. He typed the words, “Reverse G****e Image Search,” and click the search icon.

He still could not believe he was doing this. The same thing he had sworn to never do. Desperate times call for desperate measures. He needed to sedate his frustration. He would deal with the guilt later.

Reverse G****e Image Search is a G****e Search engine that enables the user to search images instead of words or texts online. The algorithm reads the attributes of the uploaded text file and brings out other images with likely or similar size and form. On many occasions, it brings out the same image. Seven used this software to search for plagiarized pictures.

A darker part of him was scared of the move.

He clicked the UPLOAD IMAGE field and uploaded the picture of her.

He clicked on the search button.

I cannot believe I am doing this. This has to be the worst line of action.

But his life depended on it.

The results page opened.

And there were results. Similar results. Familiar results. He sees Jay's face everywhere. Including replicas of the picture of her wearing the purple sweater that he had searched. His heart raced when he clicked the first result and the page redirected to a F******k profile.

AMAKA NWAMBUEZE.

Huh? The confusion on Seven's face made his neck, underarms, and forearms dampened and sweaty. He scrolled through the profile. What he saw left him flummoxed.

“What the fuck?” He said screamed.

“Bro, I'll report you when mommy comes o!” Angel screamed from the living room.

Seven was not paying attention, his mind was static, and his heart was beating so hard he heard the thumping in his head.

Amaka Nwambueze?

Lives in Benin City.

Attends the University of Benin.

Last Seen: 24 minutes ago.

“Whaaaaaaaaaaat?!  It - It can't be!”

But it was indeed real, no hallucinations. He rubbed his eyes just to make sure. It was still there staring at him.

Seven's face grimaced as the realization hit him like a rock.

He called Milkos immediately.

Milkos was silent when Seven related everything to him, he could hear the tears in his friend’s voice. But he chose to wait a while before he spoke.

Then he cleared his throat, “Guy, look, I'm sorry. But there could be every possibility that this ‘Amaka’ girl is your woman o; she might have created that fake profile and told you all those things so that you wouldn't find out that she is in fact, someone close to you.”

Milkos was making sense. Seven considered that for a moment and then waved it off.

“I don't think that's the case, guy.”

“Women matter sha, chai!” Milkos tried to console him but it was a futile effort.

Seven’s mind already wandered far.

So he cut the call instantly.  Seven did not even notice.

Milkos placed the phone on an open textbook on Industrial Drawing that lay on his scattered study table. He was in his Hall III hostel room inside the University of Lagos. The fan rotated slowly above his head. Beads of sweat sat comfortably on his temple where throbbing veins connected. He removed his glasses to massage his head. He was having an irritable headache.

You see, he mused. This is why I don't do online relationships.

He remembered when had Seven told him about the girl, where she was from, and how she made him so happy. He was a bit skeptical about the entire thing. First of all, why Seven? Not that Seven wasn't that good-looking of a guy. Towering over five-eleven, Seven was a well=built dude whose scanty beards Milkos was jealous of.

So he was not bad-looking but... Why did a girl as beautiful as that go for him?

Especially when they have not met physically?

This answered his first question — no shade — and he was worried about Seven because it seems like someone was trying to pull a huge joke on him. Milkos did not want to ruin Seven’s happy moment so he went with it.

So he chose to ignore the red lights and wished his friend the best.

Thinking had made him lose track of time. He looked at the clock on the wall.7 PM. It was time. He powered his laptop and clicked on the G****e Chrome icon on his desktop screen.

PYTHONVERSE.ORG.

“Well,” He said, waiting for his coding environment to load.