Withstand the Ridiculous

The Delaware Historical Connection had an idea. They wanted to see if there was an individual who knew the most about the state of Delaware. New Sweden University student Hollis Varner fit such a description. His skin looked black as tar but it was like the tar was on fire in his head. He wore a blue blazer with a red t-shirt and blue jeans and white sneakers. He looked like any other college kid but was still different. A mind afire with ideas and notions to succeed, he had majored in History and specialized in what happened in the Diamond State.

With his selection into the DHC’s Room Challenge, he knew he could beat the hour’s worth of quizzes and games that they had prepared for him. He put all of his metadata into his smartphone. It asked for a username and a password. He used his name as part of it with VarnerVictory. The password required a lowercase letter, a consonant, a vowel, an uppercase letter, a number, a special character, and had to be sixteen characters or more in length. He entered all of that and still the meter on the difficulty level read “poor.”

Then, it prompted him to put in his high school mascot, his mother’s maiden name, his father’s middle name, what month he was born, his favorite movie, food, and place to visit, his college crush, and his blood type. He entered all of that information into the system. He got past that first round of metadata. Now, a CAPTCHA with squiggly lines and lowercase and uppercase letters appeared. He surpassed this hill. Then, another CAPTCHA asked him to point out the yellow fire hydrant. He completed this successfully, too. The pressure mounted in his brain, but he remained cool throughout the entire time. Like a faucet, the data just streamed more protective content to prevent others from accessing his account. The system asked for an email account which he provided. He sighed. It was a quick one. It was like the short exhaust of a high performance car.

He powered through the new, few prompts asking him to identify the red bridge. He did. At that last one he thought he had licked the test. It reflected that he was not a robot.

A voice came over the system.

“Mr. Varner, it seems as if you have had a roadblock. What is the nature of your temporary stoppage?”

“It consists of the fact that I will beat this game you all are playing with me and take on the historical sights that the DHC will provide for me.”

“Very well, Mr. Varner. You may want to keep in mind that you are on a strict time limit once you pass through these hatches.”

“I’m part of the ROTC and will be a Marine officer after school. I’m not sweating anything.”

“Well, at least somebody’s confident in himself.”

“It’s better than being cocky.”

The voice, Raydric Haysberry, stopped booming in the room speaker and Varner advanced. A sense like wings had grown on his back and he was prepared to be a successful Icarus kept him going. He took in all of the bits of history. He entered quizzes about Lewes, Delaware forming in 1631, the battle of Cooch’s Bridge in Newark, and the Underground Railroad stretching to Wilmington. He aced them all.

“So, you do know your history,” This time it was a woman. Her name was Ella Gorsch. “You seem to be one of the bright ones,” her shadiness in her words seemed to not rankle Varner. Her tone seemed even, almost flat and emotionless. Then she guffawed. “You’re never going to get out of this alive,” she mocked and snickered.

Varner was unimpressed and still determined. He fought his way past battles and climbed virtually to the Ebright Azimuth, the highest point in Delaware.

“Okay, you’ve got enough going for you,” Haysberry admitted. “But can you endure the next set of tests and quizzes that will challenge your own sanity?” he asked.

There was a maniacal sense in his verbiage. It seemed as if he took pleasure in the displeasure of Varner’s situation. Every syllable of his words suggested that he had a personal vendetta against the young college student.

“You may be studying History, but you have to remember, history is happening all around us every day. It is a constant cycle of events and places that propel us to the next levels of understanding this universe. I don’t think you’re qualified to find out what lies ahead,” Haysberry resumed. Then as if the room had no sound system, everything became mute. Varner looked at the exhibits. The illuminated maps and the texts that glowed like gifts of gold still remained but no audio emitted from the speakers as he approached the various exhibits.

Then, Ella. “Thought you were imagining things, weren’t you?”

“No, I’m prepared for sound deprivation. Especially when it’s coming from you two,” Varner grinned.

“You say all of this now, but will you be ready for the final stage of this wonderful journey?”

“I’ll have enough strength to master all of these classes. There’s not a shred of Delaware history that I don’t know. I know about the companies registered in Wilmington, I know about the origins of the sales tax, I know about the DIT and NSU rivalry football game.”

“So, you know this. Great. Let’s see if you can escape the room with your sanity intact,” Ella screeched.

When it came time for Varner to address the amount of historical figures from Delaware, he listed the current Congressmen and women and the Senators that represented the state, even a certain head of state. He rolled past each and every question and did it with flair. He enjoyed it. Absolutely in his element, he could rattle off the state flower and the reason why Delaware almost never became the First State.

By remaining poised and strong in his deportment, he continued to advance to the separate rooms. As he walked alone, the voices that taunted him almost became like the oyster’s pearl. Through irritation, something beautiful came out of the situation. Their attacks motivated him to aspire to become even more excellent in his answers. He picked up the speed as he saw that the exhibits were soon to close in twenty eight minutes and sixteen seconds. He shrugged. He thought that if he had made it this far, there was no going back now. He presented himself to be a young man of substance. A deep resonance of clarity and knowing rested on his soul. His spirit led him where he needed to be, without aid from the unknown and unknowable. The coolness of the room aided in him remaining perspiration free. That was until he advanced to the next set of rooms. Haysberry, Gorsch, somebody turned up the heat. Now, some sweat appeared on his brow. Still, he didn’t flinch. He just kept working. The tests and quizzes he surmounted with panache. He had fun.

“It wouldn’t surprise me if you stopped now and just stood in a puddle of your own sweat. I wish you would be more direct in your answers to us. We’re only trying to help,” Haysberry addressed slyly.

“Okay,” Varner wiped his forehead, “You can literally increase the heat but that won’t deter me from my goal. I’m walking outta here.”

With the willpower to survive, Varner championed his own cause and became a staunch survivalist. Something deep inside his psyche had been turned on by these last few sets of challenges. He had felt like a blue hen had laid an egg in his consciousness that was valuable, worthy. It was like the whole history of Delaware had embedded itself in his consciousness and never relinquished the ties that had been placed there. He kicked his sneakers against the ground. He had been stepping with the grace of an aristocrat but knew that he was much more than some regal figure. He was an American from the Small Wonder state and was proud of that fact. His mind was like a knife, slicing through the nonsense that the Voices tried to keep from him. Their constant barrage of insults and innuendos never stopped him from continuing on his course.

As he came to the exhibit where the story about the Kalmar Nyckel appeared, he had all of the facts and also, he took off his blazer as the temperature continued to climb in the room. More beads of sweat met his forehead like beetles congregating.

“Just think of this heat as the heat of the days of slavery that Delawarean Foundational Black Americans (FBA) had to endure. Think about this border state being a place where human chattel actually labored in the fields of Sussex and Kent Counties and in the homes of whites in New Castle. Consider all of the strife your people faced because of a few laws that persisted in this country and may still be recognized in other parts of the US,” Ella reminded.

This wasn’t a usual taunt. This line of talk signaled a shift in her demeanor. She wanted to point out the grotesque nature of the past. That’s what resounded against the walls of Varner’s consciousness. It was like a sledgehammer had been thrown at the screen to his mind. Ella had remained sincere in this entire stream of words. He knew he was getting closer. He tugged at his saturated t-shirt. For all of the ways that Haysberry and Ella had challenged him, Varner knew that it was to create or destroy him. He knew that if he let them wear him down, he would fall victim to the fact that he was educated but unable to answer and knew it. He had been a history junky now a student of the stuff. As he progressed, he knew that he had to continue to fight on, heat or no heat. He brushed his 360º waves. With the inundation of information, he still retained the ideas and facts that had functioned as the fuel to keep him going, keep him alive. Literally. This was a game of life or death that somehow got sanctioned by the federal, state, and local authorities. Varner thought that the DHC must have designed some loophole to even initiate this game. In his mind, Varner remained calm although the hot room threatened to disturb his sanity. Going through the rooms, Varner continued to sense that he was coming close to the exit. He now marched through the twentieth century.

Haysberry spoke this time. “The lynching of George White was the only documented occurrence of this kind of horror in the state’s history. He had been bludgeoned, dismembered, tied to a stake, and set ablaze. It is in his memory that black Delawareans ought to know his name. He had been accused of the rape and murder of a white woman but was never tried in a court of law. It is the blood of White that must maintain your focus on what happened in this state and what continues to occur in other areas.”

It was like a stone had just dropped in Varner’s soul. He felt the weight of the case that he had remembered but could not bring to mind with the speed at which he had answered the other prompts. Now drenched in sweat, Varner lasered in on completing the last few challenges. He figured they were joking. After the heaviness of the past few exhibits, this was rather light in tone and content. It was the question of who had titled Delaware the Diamond State and why.

Varner knew this way before he even stepped in a college classroom.

“Of course this was Thomas Jefferson who said this in relation to the ‘jewel’ like status of the state along the Eastern Atlantic space.” That’s when a wall lifted and a blast like an arctic wind cooled off the student. Varner struggled to get to the green screen on the laptop in front of him. With each footstep, the wind seemed to blast him further back until he ended up at the opening. He didn’t quit. He kept stepping to the platform where the laptop laid. With each heave and hoe, he brought with him the strength of his ancestors who had to fight off heat, exhaustion, bitter cold, snake bites, and all sorts of beatings, whippings, and degradation all so he could breathe free air.

This game was nothing. He struggled, yes, but Ella and Haysberry both watched as the young man staggered to the platform. He tapped the key and the room returned to some sense of normalcy. Then, Ella and Haysberry entered the space and formally introduced themselves.

“I’m the executive director here at the Delaware Historical Connection,” Ferdinand Haysberry said. He had soft eyes but a strong jawline jutting out from his beige colored face. He wore a three piece suit the color of obsidian and cognac colored loafers. He stood at six feet four inches in height. He possessed a cane that matched his shoes. A quality of good fashion sense and a short temper seemed to follow Haysberry. He was in his late fifties and had a salt and pepper mini-Afro.

“I’m Ella Gorsch. I’m the senior researcher here at DHC.” She possessed alabaster skin and wore a smart suit the color of blush. A matching hat completed her ensemble. Ella’s acidic laugh and her position as the top woman at the DHC both allowed her to be a formidable figure. Her green-gray eyes and soft features stunned.

“Well, you’ve come this far by reason. You just have to pass this one last test,” Haysberry replied.

“Okay,” remarked Varner.

“All you need to do is enter the password that you put in earlier to access the ten million dollar prize and leave here with the glory of knowing you’re a champion of history,” Ella mentioned.

All of the blood seemed to drain from Varner’s face. His mouth turned to sandpaper. He didn’t show that he was without the memory of the password. With quickness, his look spoke of nonchalance, and that he was in control while inside he was about to panic. This is what people talked about when warriors found themselves in precarious situations in war. They experienced fear, yes. They knew that something could threaten their very existence but still fought the fight without cowardice despite being scared out of their minds.

Suddenly, he thought he had the right password. It struck him like a vehicle hitting a curb. The idea plopped into his consciousness. He returned to the laptop. With a knowing grin, he typed in the alleged password. The little dots, like bobbles, shook violently, indicating that he had not entered the correct code.

“It seems a lot more difficult trying to remember the proper password than it did when you first entered it, no?” Haysberry said with a scowl. His bitter humor did not chafe Varner, however. Again, the young man attempted to put in the password. A quick let down again.

“Now, you’ve got to rely on your hints!” Ella said with too much enthusiasm.

His high school mascot was a moth. His mother’s maiden name was Jeser. And his father’s middle name was Brett. His favorite food was venison. His birth month was April. His movie was The Newness. His place to visit was Fenwick Island. His crush was Vivienne Tynan. His blood type was O negative. Varner placed all of this metadata into the computer and pressed return. It showed that he needed to not only have those correct but also that he had to complete the CAPTCHAs. One asked that he detect the letters both lowercase and uppercase with a jagged line separating them horizontally. Another asked to point out the dalmatian. He did all of that successfully.

“Very well, my boy. Very well,” Haysberry mentioned with a bit of sarcasm invading his breath. “But you still haven't found the right password. One more try.”

Varner stood up straight. He breathed. His fingers spread out and even though this room was much cooler than the place he had just left, sweat began to form again, this time at his temples. For all the memory he possessed when it came to names, dates, facts, and figures, he couldn’t for his own sake remember the password. Not to be defeated he looked at his list of answers and decided to just wing it. No luck.

“It looks like you’re going to have to reset your password. If you do so, you will forfeit the cash,” Hayberry chimed. Varner didn’t listen to the man’s words because he was too busy working on the email account. This proved to be another roadblock. He had steamed through all of the challenges, fire and ice, and now had to come up with the password to his email. He then entered the correct username and password for the email. The password to the DHC system still eluded him. He clicked the link to start afresh with a new code. He typed in the password that he knew he would remember. The system required him to re-enter the password. He followed the instructions. This took him back to the start. Just two bars stared at him with a blinking cursor: username and password. It kept blinking.

“Well, aren’t you going to put in the code, Hollis?” Ella asked gaily.

“Absolutely,” Varner addressed.

His fingers worked again. Username: VarnerVictory Password: TheDelawarean@1787. It clicked! It worked! Varner’s face turned to joy as blue and gold confetti and light showered and shone down upon him and a total of ten million dollars appeared on the screen.

“You’ve done it, son!” Haysberry rejoiced.

“Yes, you’ve conquered the historical, interactive quiz we have devised. What do you have to say?” Ella asked with elation.

“I’m just glad I knew all of the material and that I could apply it. This password at the end proved to be a challenge but I knew I could defeat it, nonetheless."

“Well, we’re glad to know that you were able to solve the puzzles and represent your school and your family with pride,” Haysberry said. “Now the ten million dollars is yours!”

“Yes,” Varner said. Vivienne rushed to hug and kiss the winner. Cameras emerged and captured the moment where the student mastered the class in facts and statistics.