Paid by Dark Web Thieves

Her soul left her body, fingertips frozen as the joints in her hands became stiff. She could feel the strain in her curved spine and the colour rushing from her face. The salty copper taste of blood pooled at the tip of her dry tongue. She licked at the torn bit of fleshy tissue hanging on the inside of her mouth. In moments of vigorous concentration, she always fell prey to the habit of chewing the insides of her cheeks.

She sat there, her bum aching from being glued to her ergonomic mesh chair for most of 35 hours. Her bones creaked with the slightest twitch of her shoulder. She felt the pressure build in her bladder; the scent of incense and sweat tinged the air and scratched the back of her throat. All that time wasted; her work sucked away in a split second.

Only death could make this pain bearable, she thought.

“Thunder strike me down and strike down this useless piece of scrap metal while you’re at it,” she grumbled.

Milcah had just completed the programme to her most recent app idea, Lert. It was a way to socialise online, with people across the globe, with the niche feature of physical phantom touch. Controlled by the app, people could feel the touch of one another through a robotic arm covered in artificial leather Lorica and polyurethanes, giving the illusion of a human arm.

She had just gotten the design code to work but, because of her adamant need to finish with uninterrupted workflow, she disregarded the persistent grey pop-up asking her to charge her laptop. Of course, she did not save her work, and after spending 16 hours fixing a problem in her code, death seemed like the only feasible next step.

The smooth transitions from the home page to the chat rooms were clunky and glitchy, not what she had planned in her, Ideas for Godly Applications, journal. The journal was a small black notebook with a hardcover and a ribbon as the bookmark. It had all the ideas for crazy phone apps and websites she intended to code over the years. She knew, one day her genius would be noticed and bought for millions, but as she glared at the dark screen before her, her confidence waned.

Times like this were the reason why Milcah loved coding so much, the high she felt when she solved a problem in her code, and the anger that consumed her when another problem occurred. She felt like a demigod, human in the way there was a fluctuation in her emotions, and god the way she could create things out of her imagination, destroying whatever got in her way.

Milcah felt the incessant ache in her bladder and knew it was time for a break. Stretching out her hunched body, she stood up and went to the bathroom to relieve herself. She looked at herself through the toothpaste speckled mirror.

Crusted lashes with matching lips and sponge-like hair that stood stiff in an irregular form. “Beautiful,” she said, sarcastically, as she shook the water from her hands into the sink.

In the darkness of the kitchen, she could make out the tiny fluorescent numbers on her microwave. They called for her to find something to eat, something salty and instant. She felt around the cupboard for the rustling sound. Her hands made contact with the plastic packaging of her favourite instant noodles.

While the humming from the microwave filled the still silent air, Milcah tried to remember what she did to fix her layout problem. It wasn’t as small as a missing bracket or comma, those were the issues that drove her insane for minutes, but never for hours on end. She had thought up a more creative solution and found part of the solution on a coding forum. It was like Facebook for programmers, filled with inspiration, answers to homework, and numerous ways to execute a single task. She decided to look into her web history to spark her memory after she finished her meal.

“I guess it’s not the end of the world,” she sighed. Her train of thought was broken by the sound of the microwave, as she reached for the handle, she faltered.

GO TO YOUR LAPTOP.

What was once a timer on the microwave was now a message. Milcah rubbed her eyes, it must have been the fatigue catching up to her. The lack of sleep was causing her to hallucinate.

GO TO YOUR LAPTOP.

The words moved along the time display like a train announcement. “So, this is what madness feels like,” Milcah whispered. She hesitantly switched off the microwave from the socket, the food inside long forgotten. The time display blinked off.

The oven timer immediately started its shill buzz. Sweat crawled down between her breasts. Her heart squeezed. With a shaky hand, Milcah crossed herself while a curse slipped from her lips. Slowly peering at the oven digital display, she saw the usual 00:00 flashing, indicating that the timer set had finished. She released the breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. As Milcah planned to hide in the kitchen, her phone rang.

It was in her bedroom along with her laptop.

Gathering all her courage, she walked inside to answer her phone. The lock screen was blank, with the time and Caller ID absent. The only thing there, was the decline and accept button.

She reasoned with herself, the phone was an older version of the iPhone and often glitched. It was probably her dad calling to check in, withholding his Caller ID. I will decline it and call back, she inaudibly concluded. As she pressed the decline button, the screen went black. Instantly the words took over her phone screen.

GO TO YOUR LAPTOP.

She chucked her phone down and went to her laptop.

The screen was now white, and at the top corner in blocky square font were words that stole the air from Milcah’s lungs.

“Hello there Milcah, my name is Dan. I am the artificial intelligence system for SPADES. SPADES is a software development and cyber security company. We liked your code and thought we could propose an offer. £20000 transferred immediately into your account…” Everything around her became blurred, and she felt lightheaded.

Her fingers stabbed at the laptop keys.

ESC.

Nothing happened.

DELETE.

The white screen remained, fixed in position staring at her.

“There’s only one way to fix a glitch,” Milcah shut the laptop and picked up her phone to call Levi. He was a wizard at anything code, he knew most programming languages like Python and C++ and had extensive experience with the dark web, and this moment screamed dark web. As she reached for her phone, she remembered its current state and instantly dropped it as if it had burnt her. Milcah jotted down the company‘s name in her notebook, grabbed her keys, and left.

Upon arriving at Sarai’s place, she beelined for her friend’s laptop across the living room. “Ermm, Milcah, have you slept?” Sarai paused and sniffed the air. “Have you showered?” she further prodded.

“I need to use your phone. Unlock it.” Milcah replied.

“Long were the days when greetings were made and offerings were brought when entering someone’s home,” Sarai unlocked the phone and chucked it at Milcah. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, and why do you need my phone?”

Thoughts and theories whizzed around Milcah’s mind, and as she waved off her friend’s questions, she typed in Levi’s number. The ringing tone sounded three times before the sound of shuffling broke through the speaker. “Afternoon, you are on the line with Levi Gidigbi, coding extraordinaire, master in all fo-“

“Shut up, you crayon, I need help. There’s this company called…” as Milcah flipped through her notebook to find the name of the company the phone died, and the lights cut out.

Abruptly every electrical item switched on and rang out in alarm. The television’s static was louder than usual, and the laptop rang with an incoming facetime call. The microwave beeped, and the fire alarm screamed. Absent-mindedly, Sarai and Milcah had placed themselves in the middle of the living room and stared in awe at the activity around them.

Silence sliced through the air and settled.

Darkness covered them once again.

Milcah could hear nothing over the rushing of her blood around her eardrums as her heart slammed against her rib cage. There was nothing but the analogue tick of the clock.

“Milcah, what demonic spirits did you bring into my home?” Sarai hissed. Milcah clutched her notebook. “We need to leave now. I need an uncorrupted computer or device.” She instructed. They stood there, not wanting to disturb the air with their movement. After what seemed like forever, Milcah left the living room and made her way to the apartment door.

The metal handle felt cool in her grip.

She pushed down and pulled the door.

Nothing.

Her jaw clenched, and with all her strength, she tried again.

"Are you playing around because I have work to do, and I don’t have the tim—" Sarai’s violent whisper was cut short. “It’s… locked”. The scary reality dawned on them. “Sarai you have an electronic lock system for your door.” It wasn’t a question but a statement that cemented their fate. "We can’t leave."

As Sarai pondered on ways to escape, Milcah went back into the flat to find the laptop. Swiping her thumb over the trackpad, the laptop screen blinked and displayed the same offer from SPADES. Collecting herself, she read through the offer. Sarai hovered over her shoulder. “Milcah what did you do? Is this that dark magic website you and Levi keep playing on?”

Milcah tried the ESC button and every button provided by the keypad. One option remained. “And if I decline your offer?” Moments passed, and soon typing floated on the screen.

“We urge you to accept.”

Without missing a beat, Milcah replied.

“I accept.”

The lights came on, and like a sick magic trick, everything appeared in place. “I need my phone, I’m coming back.” Milcah attempted to leave but was hurled back into the desk chair. “You will explain everything that just occurred in my apartment or I will strangle you.” Taking in Sarai’s deadpan expression, Milcah knew she had to explain. It was only fair after what she had put her friend through.

After explaining the series of events that transpired, Sarai peppered Milcah with questions. They both agreed to collect Milcah’s phone and check if the money had been sent.

They walked in a comfortable silence drowning in their own thoughts as the wind pushed them along the pavement. Once they arrived, they paused at the door. “What if the money isn’t there and all my work has been stolen?” Milcah asked, her mouth was dry, and her pulse quickened. The question hung in the air as they walked in and found the phone. Milcah stood above it and stared at it, the screen was faced down. As Milcah made no movement to pick it up, Sarai plucked it from the desk and looked at the screen. Milcah watched Sarai’s face, seeing her eyes latch onto something.

Sarai remained quiet.

“What is it?” Milcah questioned impatiently.

Sarai handed her the phone.

New notification from PayPal.

Could it have been the money? Milcah unlocked the phone.

Today 23:00 GMT £20000 has been transferred from UNKNOWN SENDER.

“I have the money.” She whispered. “I HAVE THE MONEY!” She repeated and snatched her friend into an embrace. “Let me take you out to eat. No. Let me buy you anything you want.” Milcah mumbled offers into Sarai's hair.

Sarai pulled out of Milcah’s hold. “First you need to sit down and call your parents, maybe even the police.” Her face looked serious.

Laughter bubbled out of Milcah simultaneously matched with Sarai’s giggles. “Let’s start with paying off my bills and debts, and then we can go crazy.”