Echoes of the Algorithm

Billionaire Code

Maeson stared at the glowing red screen of his phone. The blood colored light lit up the dark stairwell. The words "Welcome back, my Creator" flashed over and over again. His hands began to shake with a sudden cold fear. This situation made no logical sense. He built his artificial intelligence system three years ago in his cramped bedroom. He coded every single line from scratch to help him mine data and hide his tracks. How could a three thousand year old metal cylinder speak to his modern creation?

He quickly pressed the power button and forced his phone to shut down. He needed to cut the connection to his home server before the system did something dangerous. He stood in the silent stairwell and tried to slow his racing breathing. He thought about his sick sister lying in her lonely hospital bed. She needed him to remain invisible. She needed him to keep his boring IT job and pay her steep medical bills. If he got involved with ancient mysteries, he could lose everything he worked for. He shoved the dead phone back into his pocket and pushed open the heavy door to the fourth floor.

He spent the next three hours hiding in the basement server room. He fixed email errors and reset passwords for very angry managers. He tried to focus on the boring tasks, but his mind kept flashing back to the symbols on the artifact. Around noon, his desk phone rang loudly. It was the front desk receptionist. Ava Carter had dropped her laptop and needed immediate help transferring her important files.

Maeson grabbed his black tool bag and took the elevator back up to the executive suite. When he stepped into the hallway, he saw Ava rushing out of the main meeting room. She carried a thick stack of manila folders stacked high in her arms. She looked angry and highly distracted. As she turned the corner, the heel of her shoe caught the edge of the thick carpet. She stumbled forward hard. The heavy folders slipped from her grip and hit the floor. Hundreds of white papers scattered across the marble tiles like fallen snow.

Maeson rushed forward and dropped to his knees to help her. "Let me get these for you, Miss Carter," he said softly.

Ava knelt right beside him. She looked very frustrated. "Thank you," she muttered under her breath. "My father refuses to listen to any reason. He wants to cut open the cylinder today. He does not understand the massive historical value we might destroy."

Maeson started gathering the scattered papers into neat piles. As he reached for a page near her shoe, the bold black text on the paper caught his eye. He froze in place. The document was not about ancient history at all. It was a printed profile of his secret hacker identity. There were lists of hidden bank accounts he had drained to pay for his sister. There were maps tracking the locations of his private servers. There was even a sketch of a dark figure with a question mark over the face. She was actively hunting him down. She had a whole team tracking his every digital footprint across the globe. If she ever found out the truth, she would throw him in prison forever. His sick sister would die alone in that cold hospital room.

He swallowed hard and tried to keep his face perfectly blank. He handed the thick stack of papers back to her hands. He needed to get away from her presence right now. He stood up fast, but his heavy tool bag caught the edge of the small glass table next to them. A tall crystal vase wobbled and started to tip over. He reached out his right hand to catch the falling vase. The sudden quick movement pulled the sleeve of his faded gray shirt high up to his elbow.

Ava reached out to help him catch the heavy vase. Her soft hand brushed against his bare forearm. She suddenly stopped moving. Her breath hitched in her throat. Her bright eyes locked onto the black ink tattooed onto his skin. It was a highly unique geometric shape. He got the tattoo many years ago because the strange pattern appeared to him in a vivid dream just before he built his artificial intelligence.

Ava dropped the private papers onto the floor again. She stepped much closer to him. Her eyes were wide open and filled with sudden deep suspicion. She reached into her tailored blazer pocket and pulled out a small glossy photograph. She held the picture up right next to his bare arm. The clear photograph showed a close up shot of the ancient metal cylinder her father brought into the building today. Right in the dead center of the dirty cylinder was a deeply carved symbol. It was the exact same geometric shape that was permanently inked into the skin of Maeson.

A heavy silence fell over the bright hallway. The cold air felt thick and very dangerous. Maeson felt his fast heart pounding against his ribs. He knew he was finally trapped. There was nowhere left to run. Ava slowly raised her head. "Where did you get that strange mark?" she asked. Her soft voice was barely a thin whisper. "Who are you really, Maeson Monroe?" she demanded.