The street was calm with very few people passing that night. A car was parked by the side of the road under a streetlight. Dayo leaned his head on his hands, which were placed on the dashboard of the car, gazing down at a tiny pen drive in his hand. His lips formed into a satisfied smile.
It had taken him more than three months of pain and effort to make the song inside that drive. Every note had cost him. He had strained his damaged voice, even knowing the danger. But tonight, he had done it. He had recorded his first song in years. It was like a missing piece of his soul had been put back in place.
He remembers the first time the doctor told him he might never sing again. He had been only twenty-three when he was diagnosed with spasmodic dysphonia. He remembered sitting frozen in that office, staring at the ceiling until his mind went blank. He had gone home silent that night. His mother hugged him tightly and said to him that "There's always a way, never lose hope". His father put a hand on his shoulder and told him he was strong, that he should not give up. His father had also given him different options, and the military was one.
He followed that advice.
The military gave him a new life. He had an edge because of his studies in college—he was fluent in more than seven languages. Missions took him across the world, from cities to countries where he was invisible to alleys where his name could never be spoken. He walked through places where nobody knew him, carrying out operations that would never make the news. He survived things that should have broken him, but deep inside, he was still empty.
Eventually, for reasons he kept to himself, until an incident happened and he decided to leave the military.
Months passed in quiet boredom until the night he stumbled into a small event where he met an old friend who was working as a DJ. His friend begged him to help for a while. He had taken the opportunity without thinking, and at that moment, he touched the equipment; something inside him had clicked.
And almost immediately, the music, the beats, the rhythm, the sound, everything fell into place and clicked like he had found a piece of himself that had been missing for years.
From that night, he became a DJ. With time, he grew into a producer, traveling from one country to another, making songs for others, and turning simple ideas into music that people fall in love with.
He won awards, and his name appeared on international charts, and met artists from Nigeria to America, South Korea to Japan even China. People called him the best producer of all time, which was not a lie, as he had produced more international tracks from different regions than any producer and won many awards, the man who could turn any sound into gold. He kept smiling, but underneath, he still ached. He could make music for everyone else, but he could not sing his own due to the pain it caused him. His doctor had warned him that if he tried, he could lose the ability to speak forever.
And yet, one day, he decided to try.
He shut himself away from everything, forcing himself to sing with the pain and the fear of losing his voice. He worked night after night until finally, he recorded a song that he was happy with.
And now with the pen drive in his hand, he was alive once more.
He stepped out of the car and looked across to the other side of the road. There was a six-story promotional building there, windows gleaming in the night. There was a friend inside who could help him release the song to the world. His feet were light as he crossed over the road, his heart full of dreams.
He never saw the black truck coming.
A horn blared, and headlights enveloped him. He stood there momentarily frozen. His decades of military conditioning screamed at him to move, but his legs were slow.
The impact was in seconds. Pain exploded through his body, and the world spun. He hit the ground hard. His breath caught in his throat. He could taste blood.
His thoughts blurred. Why? not now… I just… I just recorded my first song. Why…?
His vision dimmed. The streetlights above him seemed to drift farther away from his subconscious.
Then he heard a voice.
"Dayo, what have you done?"
His eyes struggled to open, but the world he saw was no longer the street. He was lying in a space that seemed like a hospital. The air was still and cold.
A man appeared in front of him, a stranger with eyes full of anger.
"How could you do this," the man shouted, "to the person you claimed you love?"
Dayo stared in confusion. His mouth opened, but no words came. A sharp pain cut through his head, and he fell to his knees.
"Ahh!" he groaned.
Then a clear chime rang in his mind.
DING!
SYSTEM INITIALIZING…
And everything went black.