I've always believed people — and programs — are mostly good.
I mean, sure, code can be messy and life unpredictable, but if you just follow the logic long enough, things make sense. That's what I told myself, even as I stared at the glowing screen in the half-empty university lab, sometime past 2 a.m.
Everyone else had gone. I should've left too, but I was determined to fix this final-year project bug. FaceTrace — my smart attendance app — was supposed to be my ticket to a distinction. It worked fine during the demo last week. But then tonight, out of nowhere, this odd error started popping up.
line 237: unexpected function override - anonymous
It didn't make any sense. I hadn't written anything remotely like it. Maybe it was a compiler glitch, or a template bug from GitHub. I wasn't that great with repositories — Femi always handled those. Still, I figured I could clean it up if I kept trying.
I highlighted the line and hit backspace. It vanished. For two seconds. Then reappeared.
I blinked.
I tried again, more forcefully this time. Still the same.
Maybe I was tired. Or maybe someone was playing a prank. My class group chat had been suspiciously quiet all day, which usually meant someone was up to something.
I sighed and leaned back. My eyes felt gritty. I really should've gone to bed hours ago. I took a sip of my now-cold coffee and checked the logs one more time.
Then it happened. My inbox pinged.
Sender: Unknown
Subject: ONE LAST CODE
Attachment: msg.enc
No message body.
I stared at the screen. I must've sat there for a full minute before moving. I've always had a soft spot for puzzles — escape rooms, cipher games, encrypted files. Maybe this was some cybersecurity student's idea of a joke. I clicked the file, but it wouldn't open. It was encrypted, and I didn't have the key.
Part of me thought I should close the tab and ignore it.
But curiosity always wins with me. I saved the file to my desktop.
I was about to call Femi — my project partner — when my phone buzzed.
A WhatsApp message from my roommate.
Roomie ❤️: "Ada, are you still in the lab? Something's wrong. Come quick."
Sent at 1:42 a.m.
But it was 2:18 a.m. now. Why was it just coming in?
My stomach tightened. Probably just bad network, right? Happens all the time on campus.
Still… I packed up quickly and jogged out of the lab. I took the shortcut path behind the science block, trying not to think too hard about the shadows between the buildings.
When I got to the dorm, everything felt…off. The lights were dim. The air felt heavier than usual. I walked faster down the hall.
I unlocked our door and pushed it open.
Darkness. Silence.
I flipped the light switch. Nothing.
"Chiamaka?" I called.
No answer.
The bed was half-made. Her towel still hung on the hook. Her laptop sat open on the desk, the screen dim.
But her phone — her phone was lying on her bed, cracked, with the flashlight on, blinking weakly like it was sending an SOS in Morse code.
Something wasn't right.
I tried calling her. The line went straight to voicemail.
I stepped back slowly, feeling the weight of silence press against my ears.
Then my laptop — which I hadn't even reopened — chimed.
I fumbled with it and saw a new email.
Same sender.
Subject: YOU'RE NEXT.
No body. No attachment.
I froze.
I wanted to believe it was still a joke. Maybe it was Chiamaka, pulling a dramatic prank because I forgot her birthday last week. Maybe it was Femi — though this didn't feel like his kind of humor.
My brain tried to make excuses.
Maybe it was a final-year stress breakdown.
Maybe someone hacked our network.
Maybe —
Then I noticed something that made the blood drain from my face.
On the cracked phone screen, a note was typed and saved in the Notes app.
Just four words.
"He said your name."
Don't miss the next drop — Subscribe for early access to future episodes.