Chapter 104: The Chessboard

“Do you want some?” Orel stopped in front of a vending machine, he looked at the snacks as if they were things he had never had before in his life.

Makun could not believe his eyes, he could not believe this was the same person who had outsmarted people he had never met in just two days.

“No thank you.” Makun refused.

He did not like owing favours, when you owed people favours, they might just use it as a means to guilt trip you into going against your principles to help them.

He had learned it the hard way.

He looked on as Orel grabbed a packet of biscuits from the vending machine, some Parle-G, an old Indian brand which had gotten back into success lately.

Then Orel quietly resumed his walk.

What is bothering him? Makun thought, ever since they had left Naija City, Orel’s usual self had disappeared, is it a case he is on? He asked himself only to shake his head.

It was not something he could figure out, and he was not going to ask. Who knew, Orel might just start cussing him out because of that question.

They walked down hallways lined with reinforced steel panels, till they reached a corridor they had passed earlier.

It was the office corridor, the one with names etched on frosted glass doors.

He wondered what kind of names were etched on here, who had the right to such an office and who did not. He knew he was not eligible for one, not yet.

“Hey Orel, you are back.”

Makun heard a beautiful voice call for Orel from one of the conference rooms.

He lifted his head to see a curvy middle-aged Hispanic woman walk towards them, when he looked at Orel, his face twitched.

He can get annoyed too?

“Hey, how was the trip to Naija City? Had fun? I heard a lot of stuff.” She chattered.

From her first words, he could tell why Orel was annoyed, she was a chatterbox, he probably did not like that.

Makun did not want to take part in this, he excused himself to the side, looking around at the offices.

They were really modern, he wondered if all of them had some AI booths, a very popular product that had appeared two years ago. The efficiency with those had skyrocketed, though he had never used one, he had seen it online.

He watched as Orel’s face twitched more and more to the point he excused himself from the lady.

“Makun, come here.” Orel said.

Makun knew this was Orel using him as an escape route, but he had no choice. He followed and reached in front of a frosted glass door.

Operations Architect – Orel

He watched as Orel pushed the door open and followed him in.

The office was smaller than Makun expected, but every inch of it was used.

Three laptops sat open on the main desk, screens filled with data Makun could not read from where he stood.

Beside them lay devices he had never seen before, sleek metallic objects with blinking lights, similar to the one Yime had at the pier market.

A whiteboard dominated the left wall, covered in photos connected by red string and black marker lines.

He saw locations he recognised, Houston, Louisiana, Oklahoma, and others he did not. Small yellow papers with handwritten notes were stuck between the photos, abbreviations and symbols that meant nothing to him.

A small robot lay dormant in the corner, its purpose unknown.

But none of that caught his attention the most.

At the centre of the desk, placed with deliberate care, sat a chessboard.

The pieces were mid-game, frozen in position, as if Orel had been playing against himself and stopped to think.

Makun stared at it.

Of course. Of course Orel played chess.

But that was not what baffled him, this game of chess, there was something odd about it.

He slowly moved, unknowingly towards the chessboard, staring at the arrangement, figuring out what was happening.

“Do you play chess?” Orel asked, staring at Makun.

“I dabble, I have learned somewhat.” Like everything he knew, Makun had learned about chess online.

He had learned enough to recognise that the board was bizarre.

The white pieces were dominating the game, however, from the position of the board, he knew Orel played as the black.

The black king sat castled on the queenside, tucked behind a wall of pawns. A solid textbook defensive position.

But everything else was wrong.

The pawns were almost untouched, six of them still standing in formation like soldiers who had never seen battle. Meanwhile the officers had been slaughtered. Both bishops were gone, one rook had fallen and the queen, the most powerful piece on the board, was nowhere to be seen.

Black had sacrificed its generals to protect its foot soldiers.

White, on the other hand, had lost almost nothing. Both rooks stood tall. Both bishops cut diagonal lines across the board.

The queen loomed three squares from the black king, ready to strike. Even most of the pawns remained, a full army facing a crippled defence.

It was a massacre frozen in time.

Makun stared at the board.

He had seen losing positions before, but this was different. This was not a game lost through mistakes. The sacrifices were deliberate, calculated, as if Orel had fed his strongest pieces to the enemy on purpose.

But why? He thought.

The game was as good as done.

Next to him, Orel had entered a trance-like state while staring at the board. Makun knew that at this point Orel’s brain was turning.

BANG!

Ashe burst from Orel as he looked at the chessboard, as if he had just had an epiphany.

“Place the queen back on the board.” He instructed Makun, leaving him mouth wide open.

What do you mean put the queen back on? That is not how you play chess. Makun complained internally but still moved to do as he was told.

How does one win when people come back from the dead? He grumbled, moving his sight from the chessboard to the device on the left.

The game was gone, he had no idea what Orel tried to achieve with that.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

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