📍 Luxury Hotel Bar, Victoria Island 🕛 12:07 AM
Maka stared at the devil's bargain in Chioma's outstretched hand and saw the ghost of Alimotu Adebayo shaking her head. To survive, she would have to become everything she was fighting against.
The silence between them had taken on substance, thick and heavy as the polished mahogany. Chioma's hand remained extended, not in plea but expectation—a perfectly manicured bridge across an abyss.
"A direct data feed from the core," Maka repeated, her voice low, dangerous. "You don't want to guide the river's current. You want to map its bedrock so you can build your own dam later."
Chioma's smile sharpened, gleaming under the soft bar lights. "We prefer to think of it as understanding the hydrology. To better predict floods." Her gaze flicked to Bayo. "Your father understands data. It is the one lesson he taught the world well."
Bayo's jaw tightened. "He uses data to build cages. You use it to find leverage."
"We use it to ensure our investments bear fruit," Chioma replied smoothly. "The 48-hour clock is not my invention. It's a reality. Adebayo's narrative is a virus, and fear is its willing host."
Maka's mind raced. She saw the pragmatic path to survival—but also Alimotu's ghost, warning of the poison of central control. She saw the JAGABAN_ALPHA legacy—a testament to how pure ideals could be corrupted.
She looked at Layo, whose designs pleaded for trust. At Bayo, whose strategic mind was already calculating the angles of the trap. Then she made her choice.
"No."
The word landed like a vault door slamming shut. Chioma's composure cracked for the briefest moment—a flash of genuine surprise.
Maka continued, steel in her voice. "No equity. No data feed. We are not an asset to be acquired." She leaned forward. "But we will take your media support. Your PR management. Your global infrastructure. Consider it reparations for the damage men like you and Adebayo have done to this country's digital future."
Bayo stared at her, respect dawning. Layo held her breath.
Chioma leaned back, recalculating. "You're asking for an army and offering nothing in return. That's not negotiation. That's a declaration of war."
"It's a statement of principle," Maka countered. "Help us because you want to be on the right side of history when the river finally reaches the sea."
Chioma stood, leaving the tablet behind. "The analytics are yours. A gift." She turned, then paused. "A shame about the security detail. My father's men prefer direct conversations to digital surveillance. I hope your parents understand the difference." The implied threat—physical, real—hung in the air. Then she disappeared into the gloom.
---
📍 Moving Car / Streets of Lagos 🕐 1:15 AM
The car smelled of old upholstery and desperation—a metallic capsule hurtling through the sleeping city.
"They'll come for us from every direction now," Bayo said, voice tight, hands gripping the wheel.
"What was the alternative?" Maka shot back. "Let them own our future? That was Alimotu's fight, and she lost. We fight differently."
Layo looked up from her laptop, its glow casting worried shadows. "She's right. The moment we give that data feed, the soul of Kudi River is gone. Trust is the foundation. Break that, and we have nothing."
"I'm not saying she was wrong," Bayo said, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror, paranoid precision. "I'm saying we have a second front. And we need to discuss the 72-hour leash. When it hits zero, we have three choices—each capable of breaking us. Disable it and leave us exposed, modify it and risk the system, or delegate control to a community that isn't ready."
Maka's laptop chimed. Two alerts lit up the dark car:
[PHOENIX_GROUP PROBE]: Escalating. Sybil Attack detected on Kudi River net. 5,000+ fake nodes deploying.
[JAGABAN NODE]: Replication 99% complete. Poison Pill: ARMED.
"The war has begun," Maka muttered.
"We can't go back to the main safe house," Bayo said, swerving sharply. "I know a place. One they won't think to check."
---
📍 The Underflow – Lagos Underground Server Hub 🕒 3:00 AM
The Underflow pulsed with energy unlike Adebayo's sterile towers. Exposed wires hummed; jury-rigged servers coughed under makeshift fans. The nightclub above sent bass vibrations through the concrete floor.
"This is the only place they won't look," Bayo said, patting a server rack. "Phoenix knows corporate networks. Not this."
Layo plastered "Kudi River" banners over graffiti-stained walls. "They don't understand the grammar of sweat and stolen electricity."
Maka plugged in, fingers flying, fortifying the DAN core. A distributed consensus filter identified and quarantined the fake Sybil nodes, turning the attack into mere background noise.
A new alert froze her blood:
[JAGABAN_ALPHA LEGACY]: Incoming handshake request. Source: UNKNOWN
"The legacy protocol. It's active," Maka whispered.
Bayo was at her side. "My father?"
"The signature is wrong. Elegant. Respectful."
The handshake accepted itself. A secondary log appeared:
// ACTIVATION TRIGGER: CORE_PROTOCOL_DEPLOYMENT + ARCHITECT_BIO_SIGNATURE_CONFIRMED
It had been waiting for her.
A single line appeared, typed by an invisible hand:
THE BRIDGE REMEMBERS THE WATER. WHAT IS YOUR COMMAND, ARCHITECT?
Maka's breath caught. She typed tentatively:
QUERY: DIRECTIVE?
DIRECTIVE: SERVE THE RIVER. PROTECT THE FLOW. CONTAIN THE DAM.
Alimotu had built more than a financial system—a digital watchdog. Maka tested its capabilities:
ANALYZE THREAT: PHOENIX_GROUP
The response was terrifyingly precise—a complete map of Phoenix's infrastructure, three zero-day exploits highlighted. An amber warning flashed:
// COUNTERMEASURE READY: ISOLATE AND DISSOLVE HOSTILE NODES. COLLATERAL DAMAGE TO HOSTILE NETWORK: 84%. CONFIRM?
The power was intoxicating. Using it meant crossing a line she had sworn never to approach.
---
📍 The Underflow – Dawn 🕡 6:30 AM
The Phoenix Group retaliated swiftly and professionally.
"They didn't wait," Layo gasped.
Headlines bloomed across major tech blogs:
KUDI RIVER: A BEAUTIFUL, DOOMED EXPERIMENT?
The article lauded their vision, yet predicted its inevitable collapse. They were cast as tragic romantics, victims of their own ambition.
"They're not trying to break us," Bayo said, cold fury in his voice. "They're writing our obituary before we're dead."
Layo's fingers flew. #WeAreTheRiver trended within minutes, grassroots testimonials flooding the feed. User numbers, initially plummeting, began to climb.
Triumph was fleeting.
Bayo's monitor flashed red. "The Sybil attack was a feint. The real probe targets the ANY_CENTRALIZED_NODE function. They've found the leash—they're moments from triggering destruction."
The 72-hour countdown no longer felt distant.
Maka's hand hovered above the enter key. The JAGABAN_ALPHA protocol waited:
// PROPOSED ACTION: NEUTRALIZE PHOENIX PROBE. HOSTILE NETWORK INTEGRITY WILL BE COMPROMISED. CONFIRM?
She faced the choice: unleash Alimotu's ghost to save them, or risk everything.
A revolution paused on a single heartbeat. The ghost of a dead woman waited on her command. The river's future—her command—held its breath.