.

.

.

"All right. We've had enough discussion on the matter. Who would like to present their thesis first?" The middle aged computer systems professor crosses her arms as she faces her class of fifty graduating pupils. "No one? Well, someone has to start. Who's going to be brave? Come on."

Slowly, grudgingly, a hand rises into the air. The fingers are slightly curled, the model hand of a shy student wishing to get their turn out of the way. Tinted orange, the painted fingernails are flashy, a stark contrast to the modest movement.

From his seat in the back, he watches her, carefully. Everything she does, she does with precision.

The way she moves, with feigned bashfulness. Overtly humble when everyone in the room knows the depths of her talent. But they only know what she can do in the class while monitoring the lesson simulations.

They have no idea what she does sitting in front of a monitor at home. 

Only he does.

"Thank you, Miss Kiah. I'm looking forward to your thesis." The professor taps her pen against her hip, a habit that all the students knew too well. A sign of anticipation. "I'm sure UCLA will love to hear about your idea too. From what you sent me, it looks like you're trying to develop machine learning technology for child development programs?"

"That's correct." Kiah's voice is soft, dewy. She plugs her USB into the computer, pulling up a large file from the final exam section of her folder. "I wanted to code a function that will allow children to learn at their own pace, regardless of where their peers are."

How elitist. He thinks, shifting his thumbs together and apart. Similar to her sinister username Tarantyoula on Pluto Rooms, she only wants what will serve her. She doesn't want a real relationship, nor a friendship, but to derive joy through emotional manipulation. This child-development program isn't really for the benefit of children, but a farce, a method for her to receive large-scale recognition while collecting and selling user data.

He loves it.

"As you can see in figure one," She begins, her voice a notch too quiet for everyone to hear clearly, "This technology is predicted to optimize the current learning curve experienced during mid to late adolescence, when our genetically endowed intellectual capacity surfaces."

She briefly scans the classroom for reactions. Her eyes slide past him, missing his eye contact. He clenches his jaw, rubs his thumbs together faster. If only she knew who he was. If only she knew how badly she had hurt his feelings on the online dating platform, or how she inspired him to cyberattack the dating platform. She was ignorant of his thoughts, unaware of his wishes to have her next to him. Conquering the digital world...together.

"So you mean to say," The teacher comments, "This technology will be used as a supplement to the current curriculums around the world? That's a powerful perspective. Imagine that, you guys. A machine that could eventually learn how to be a class aid, helping young kids review the class material. Very powerful, indeed."

"It's more complex than just a student aid." Kiah says quietly to herself. She taps the keyboard a few times, pulling up a video of hundreds of handwritten calculations on a chalkboard mounted on a wall inside her home. In the corner of the video, he can make out a hand with long fake nails, pointed at the tips. Her hands. "The simulated class material I fed into the program evolved over time. Certainly, with enough fine-tuning to the program, this technology could, in theory, develop into the teacher."

At the word, the students glance at each other curiously. One girl in the front of the class raises her hand with a question. He studies Kiah's face as she listens to the question, impressed by her self-discipline.

"Essentially you're trying to replace teachers then, is that right? But programs can't show warmth to students, nor make them feel like they're doing a good job. I prefer a human being teaching me, thank you very much." 

Kiah smiles invitingly. "Your point isn't a bad one. In fact, it's probably the most common counterargument against the efficiency of my invention. But my digital teacher holds no bias, makes no ill-judgments on students based on behavior, and doesn't play favorites. The grading scale is fair for all, since the program doesn't allow emotions to sway the point values one way or the other. Education isn't about comfort, if a warm smile is what you're going for. It's about the dissemination of truth, the reliance of information. Babying children is for parents, not teachers. If we're to help children grow, we must give them something they can rely upon. Something that won't need to take a sick day, or get burnt out by stress."

The teacher nods, wordless. Kiah's rebuttal has impressed her, and the whole class.

"Also," Kiah goes on, facing the entire class. "If we examine the rate of self-teaching going on these days, it's understandable that the current culture of teacher instructing student should be altered to fit the times. I mean, what can't you learn how to do on your own? You can make a recipe, develop a new skill, learn how to code a simple game." Kiah's eyes meet his. "Take out entire empires of data."

His face loses all color. The teacher raises her eyebrows, and Kiah laughs her comment off. She turns back to the computer, clicking to pull up her next point of discussion.

"Allow me to move on. If we take a look at the underpinnings of the system's bytecode..."

The presentation of her thesis continues, but he can't hear any of it.

.

.

.

"Udon, this is Udon, over."

After he speaks, a faint hissing of static shivers through the walkie talkie in Jungkook's hand.

"Udon, you're my favorite noodle, man. This is Converse, over."

He suppresses a laugh. "Yeah, hi Converse. Why did your homeboy Jinyoung set me up at a kid's park? Over."

Jungkook glances around at the location Jinyoung texted him. The coordinates led him and his bodyguards straight to a children's playground on the west side of the city. Jimin and Naomi decided to venture out with him, just to be safe. However, they chose to let Jungkook do the brunt of the work while they sit in an unmarked vehicle five blocks down the road.

"Because he knows you love to go down the slide. You can go apeshit on those monkey bars, with those bulging, sexy biceps." Jimin chuckles. "Be free and climb, my homo sapien. Over."

"This isn't a joke, Jimin, er, Converse. My guys look like they're about to abduct kids out here. They're huge bodybuilders standing next to these tiny toddlers." Jungkook nervously scans the sidewalks, catching a few concerned parents eyeing him and his men up. "Already parents are getting the wrong idea about us. We're trying not to draw attention, you know? Over."

Jimin doesn't respond for a while. "Well. Act natural. Sit down at a bench and pretend to read something. Or jog? I'm not sure. What do people in LA do when they're bored at a kid's park? Over."

"Graffiti." Jungkook begins to walk towards the merry-go-round. "But I'm not about to get fined five hundred American dollars on top of this lawless behavior we're involved in already. Trying to do undercover operations. Over."

"Lawless, clawless. The only way to catch a criminal is to get into their mindset. To squeeze inside, make yourself at home. Over."

Jungkook tsks, picking up a woodchip off the ground. He allows the woodchip to crumble underneath his thumb, piece by piece. A greenish wrapper blows past his ankles, and the distant screams of two rambunctious kids playing tag linger in the air. Jungkook heeds Jimin's suggestion, trying to enter the mindset of his worst enemy.

What would the enemy do if they knew Jungkook and Jimin were going undercover to catch them? Would the hacker threaten to give up the user information to the world? Raise the stakes? Destroy Pluto Rooms for good?

Jungkook's hair billows as the wind picks up. He checks the perimeter of the park, not knowing what to expect from Jinyoung's end of the deal. Dark SUVs filled with dudes in black jumpsuits? A group of rough men, all tatted up, trained to protect him and Jimin to the death? What kinds of people would be assisting them?

"Sir." A voice sounds to his left, direct and urgent. "Sir?"

"Hmm?" Jungkook flinches at the noise, trying to find the one speaking.

"Are you...are you the man pictured on all the billboards for that love game?"

Jungkook focuses on a pair of eyes that are farther down than he expected. A young boy...with a deep voice. Here he thought his team of bodyguards had found something important, someone that might be here to help them.

The boy teeters on his feet, waiting for Jungkook to answer. "Are you that man?"

"Uh..." Jungkook starts, not knowing if he should tell the boy the truth. But what would telling the boy do? Destroy their entire plan? He was just a young boy. A genuinely curious boy looking for answers. Wasn't that Jungkook  in a nutshell?

Jungkook opens his mouth. "I'm actually-"

"Don't do it!" Jimin's voice cries from his walkie. The boy glances at the metal device making noises at Jungkook's hip.

"Who's that?" The child asks him, picking a woodchip off the ground. 

"Just, um, my friend." Jungkook lies. How did Jimin even know what the boy was saying to him? 

"Don't go on the monkey bars. I was kidding before." A subtle giggle cracks through the speaker. "I'm not sure if that's what you're doing now, because there's this fatass tree between you and the car. Anyway. You see anyone of interest, Kook? Over."

"Kook?" The boy's face lights up at the walkie talkie. He breaks the woodchip in two, chucking one end at a blue slide not far from their place by the merry-go-round. "Jeon Jungkook?"

"That would be me." He confesses to the boy. And then, into the walkie talkie, "Hey um, Converse? What ever happened to using our code names? Because if I were in any other situation, you would have just blown my cover here. Over."

The walkie crackles, but Jimin says nothing. Probably too embarrassed to speak. Jungkook smiles as the kid covers his mouth, moving strangely in some odd jig. Before he knows it, the boy is reaching out for a handshake, like a proper miniature gentleman. 

"Swell to officially meet you, Jungkook." The kid speaks, firmly grasping Jungkook's hand. Suddenly, the boy's voice shifts into a different accent. Nasally and posh, entirely creeping Jungkook out. "I'm Lionel. Oh, what? Don't make such a face. I'm truly on your side. I'll be managing the beastly undercover operation to reestablish Pluto Rooms. Park Jinyoung, an old friend of mine, sent me."

Jungkook's hand goes limp in the kid's hand. He shakes his head, feeling his mind cloud with clunky questions and unnecessary British clichés. "No fucking way. You? A kid? Why in God's name did Jinyoung send-"

"Hey, hey Udon?" Jimin's frantic voice chimes through the walkie. "I found our undercover folk. The ones Jinyoung set us up with. They just, uh. Introduced themselves to me and Naomi by our SUV. Not the bunch I was expecting. A bunch of teenagers, to be frank. But...I'm sure they won't let us down. What about you? What's going on? Over."

Still shaking his head, Jungkook pushes his thumb into the walkie. "Converse, is this some kind of rude joke? I have a kid standing here-"

"I'm not a kid." The boy reaches over, snatching the device from Jungkook's hands. He holds it to his lips, his back facing Jungkook as he speaks into it. "Hello there, Park Jimin. It is most unfortunate that your partner does not accept me as I am, but he will learn to. It's my appearance that gets most people. My birth name is Lionel. I'm leading this operation. The group that has spoken with you at the SUV are part of my specialized team out of Oxford, associated indirectly with the University. We've cracked numerous bank scams, government heists, and fraud cases before. We're glad to be of service to you." Lionel chuckles, then adds, "over," in a neat little voice which sounds more like "ovah" to Jungkook.

"Dude, how old are you?" Jungkook blinks at the boy, studying his appearance. At first glance he appeared to be just a random schoolchild, dressed in jeans and a striped button up. Shiny shoes, slicked walnut-colored hair. A pretty prestigious kid, sure, but nothing Jungkook hasn't seen before. Some parents loved to gloss their children and shine them before attending school back in Busan.

"Ah, the question of the day." Lionel shrugs his shoulders. "No matter what number I say, you'll still be unhappy. But I assure you, my expertise goes far beyond a number provided by how many days I've stayed on Earth."

Some of Jungkook's body guards catch light of Jungkook's surprised reaction and begin to approach. They raise their shoulders, trying to look domineering to the possible threat to their boss. As they near, Jungkook watches as Lionel's grin widens, then splits into a laugh. He itches his nose casually. Unafraid. The boy has guts, an air of natural authority that makes Jungkook uneasy.

"Hello there, Lionel." The walkie spurts as the guards come closer. "I'm Park Jimin, glad to work with you. Also, if Jungkook isn't cooperating with you then tell him that he's putting our date time on the line. That usually works to get him to listen to you. Over."

Jungkook's face instantly drops as he registers the words. "Satan's quarters. I hate it when he does this." Jungkook turns to face the men approaching Lionel. "Leave this boy be, guys. He has as much authority as me now, according to Jimin."

One of the bodyguards stifles a laugh. Another guard stares at Lionel and raises his eyebrows, then looks back at Jungkook as if to say is Jimin out of his mind?

"Well, I am still working for your benefit, remember." The boy states. "If you don't wish for my or my team's services, say the word and we're gone. But trust me. You're going to desire my services for this one."

Jungkook, caught off guard by the precocious tone used by the boy, nods doubtfully. "Sure, yeah. I guess we will. But you didn't answer my question."

"Twelve. Twelve and a half."

"No way." Jungkook stares at the other children running around the park. Most of them look to be eight at most, perhaps nine. All baby-faced and naive, smiling at each other without a care in the world. Not twelve. "You're like, seven years old or something."

Lionel raises his eyebrows. An understanding passes over his face. "Didn't I tell you? No matter what I answer, you'll be disappointed. But I truly am twelve years old, despite this charming young face. I promise you. I would tell you to check my birth certificate, but it's encrypted to protect my security." Lionel chuckles.

"Right..." Jungkook and the security guards exchange a glance. "Jimin is expecting you soon, I guess. We should head over to the SUV. I'll be in touch with Jinyoung."

"Yes. You do that." Lionel strides off in the correct direction, walking with pomp and glory. The utter ownership with which this kid behaves is unsettling to Jungkook. It's like he came straight out of Sperosity's Noir City game.

"Can you believe this guy?" Jungkook comments under his breath to a bodyguard standing a foot taller than him. "This guy is going to help us fix this mess. Apparently."

The bodyguard just shrugs.

.

.

.

"I do not stand by this plan."

"I'm all for it. Let's fucking get this guy, put him in the slammer. Do you know how much pain he's caused our player base?" Jungkook rubs at the bridge of his nose.

"If Kook's for it, I'm in too. I'm sick of this shit. How lucky am I to keep living a life full of reincarnated Gyuris?"

Naomi uncrosses her legs, standing up from a floral ottoman. She paces to the other side of the massive living room, peering out of the curtains. Outside, a few unmarked vehicles sit in straight line, like an aisle of automobile soldiers. Ready to move at any given time.

"I still don't stand by this. You guys, this plan is insane. You called Jinyoung to help you out, not put you in danger." Naomi swipes the curtains closed. The fading sunset light disappears from the room. She walks to the closest hanging gas lamp and flicks it on. "This place is medieval. Who decided to room and board us inside an ancient stronghold?"

Jimin bumps his foot against Jungkook's on the futon. "Lionel did. That way his team of undercovers have residence in the same area as us. This place has the capacity to house seventy eight people. I checked online."

"Insane." Jungkook plays with Jimin's thumb, tracing the pad of it and bouncing it against his knee. "So first Lionel puts us in a gothic fortress, then he expects us to put ourselves out there as a counterforce against this hacker? What a kid."

"I like him." Jimin admits. "He's a lot more successful than I was at that age. When I was twelve, I was being tossed around like a ragdoll, doing favors for some manipulative girl."

Jungkook winces. "Touché."

Naomi crosses her arms, looking over the various aged decorations hanging around the room. The three of them were in what seemed to be a type of study, decked with creaking bookshelves, velvet curtains, and too many candles to count. It seemed more fit for a clan of vampires than a tech group out of Korea, but then again, no one expected them to be there. It was the safest and most strategic location in the region.

"So what exactly does Lionel want you to do? What did he say in your meeting?"

Jimin scratches his nose. "He wants us to record a video of me and Jungkook as ourselves, saying sincerely that we will find this hacker and apprehend him. Also, the whole spiel of if you have any information about this situation, please share it by clicking this link. This website will be open to anyone who wants to share something about this case. Lionel wants this effort to be trending worldwide so that everyone knows about it."

"See, that part is simple." Naomi comments. "But there's no way that website will shed light on anything. If you give someone a sliver of the whole pie, they'll run with gluttony. The whole world will be pie to them."

"What does that even mean?" Jungkook queries. "Can you speak so I can understand it please? No proverbs."

"It means," Naomi sits back down on the ottoman, crossing her legs, "That the people meant to supply any information they have on the case are going to lie. They're going to exaggerate. If anyone can supply info, then that means the website is going to be a dumping ground for scammers. Hell, the hacker himself might put false leads on there."

Jimin nods. "Lionel says the website is a venting ground. If people know there's a place where they can communicate about this, then it will open new conversations. The issue will stay prevalent. The effort will put psychological pressure on our hacker. He says that this first part of the plan is mainly to plant a seed in our culprit's mind, reinforcing the idea that the whole world is against them."

Jungkook's pinches his nose. "Smells like another mass manipulation tactic to me."

"Takes a manipulator to bring down another." Jimin's nonchalance makes Jungkook laugh. "Where does the devil sleep?"

"Over pagan borders in Satan's quarters." Jungkook answers instantly. It's their unique way of communicating the phrase isn't it obvious? They developed it on a rainy day after watching hours of late night crime shows.

Naomi clicks her tongue. "You guys spend too much time together. Anyway, enough demon talk. So you make this video and set up a website. You're number one on trending, and the whole globe is watching you. That makes sense to me, but the second part of his plan doesn't. I just don't understand that part of it."

A knock suddenly sounds at the study door. Rough, urgent. Jungkook cranes his head to look at it. Naomi's mouth presses into a fine line.

"I'll get it!" Jimin bounds off Jungkook's lap, racing to the large door. He opens it swiftly, and is met with a kind-looking African American girl with a septum piercing and glittery fake lashes. "Well hello! Cute makeup, girlfriend. Ugh! The blending on your eyeshadow is so clean? How did you even get that gradient to appear so-"

"Sorry to interrupt you." The girl from Lionel's group seems slightly abashed. "But the room for the kidnapping has been prepared."

"Oh." Jimin blinks a few times, letting that sentence sink in. "Oh."

Naomi crosses the room with a start. Jungkook rises from the couch, giving Naomi a shit-eating smile as they walk towards the entryway.

"Don't worry about us, Naomi. We'll be fine." Jungkook winks. "We're not new to being bound and gagged."

.

.

.

author proffering a recent note from the gods

hey y'all. i almost died getting my wisdom teeth out. well not really, but my mouth has been so puffy and i wanted to die from how much pain i was in. i was awake during the whole procedure. it's so enchanting to hear your bones cracking in your ear while bloody hands weave in and out of your oral cavity. i loved it. particularly because i had to think sadistic thoughts while i was being operated on to quell my anxiety. alas, the post-operative pain was enlightening. now i value my ability to eat carrots a lot more. i've been on a smoothie/oatmeal diet for five days now and i think i'm losing weight. 

on another note i hope if you're an american you had a nice thanksgiving. i'm grateful for my family, my friends, and yogurt. i'm grateful for tylenol. i'm grateful for all of you who decide to open your minds to the crushed word chunks i feed you through this medium called whatpod. wattpad? it's called wattpad? darn. i think they robbed me of wisdom with this wisdom teeth extraction. i think i lost all my long-term memories. when is my birthday? hmm. no. you know what? today is my birthday. i'm reborn into freedom, into a body with four less teeth. good day to you. happy birthday to me.

love and always love,

izzy.