Three weeks passed.
Life didn't get better, but it didn't exactly get worse either. It simply… continued. Which, in a strange way, felt worse than anything dramatic happening.
I found myself back at the business center again, seated in the same spot I'd grown accustomed to. Same cracked plastic chair. Same humming generator in the background. Same collection of boys loitering around like they had nowhere else to be—because, truthfully, most of us didn't. Afterall most places after going for their interview the moment I was asked if I was planning on working long-term I immediately knew the interview was over and that was that.
The explosion from weeks ago had faded into memory, reduced to gossip and half-baked conspiracy theories. Boko Haram this, gas explosion that. The Americans were supposedly involved. The military had things "under control."
Life moved on.
I had Wi-Fi, so I stayed.
I was scrolling absentmindedly when I be it some cosmic force of fate or pure coincidence a man walks in dressed completely out of place and with it an aura with him —the kind you only feel when someone important enters a place that's used to insignificance.
A man stood a few steps away from us.
He was out of place in the most obvious way possible.
Tailored business suit. Polished shoes that had never tasted mud. Clean shave. Confident posture. He looked like a pastor or a salesman if I had to guess and given the look I spotted in his eyes I'd wager he was the latter if I was into gambling.
He cleared his throat.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen."
A few of the boys glanced at him. No one responded. I for one pretended to go back to my phone as I didn't particularly have any interest no matter what option it was as despite being a Christian I wasn't in the mood for some jesus and if it was a salesman well tough luck man I'm broke.
Undeterred, the man smiled. A professional smile. The kind that had been practiced in mirrors.
"My name is Mr. Adeyemi," he began. "I represent Starfall Interactive, a Nigerian-based gaming company. We're currently expanding and are looking for beta testers for an upcoming project."
That got a few murmurs.
"and a quick good news We pay," he added smoothly. "Quite well, actually."
That earned him attention.
He went on for a while—talking about immersive gaming, innovation, a possible new Nigerian excellence, global standards. Big words. Bigger promises.
The boys asked questions. Skeptical ones.
"Is this some online scam?"
"is this a new way to use people for ritual?"
"Why here?"
"Are there cameras around or something?"
He answered patiently. Licenses. Offices in Lagos. Contracts. NDAs. All very official.
Still, no one was really convinced.
I didn't say a word. I just listened.
I hadn't even realized how closely I was paying attention until the man's gaze shifted—straight to me.
The other boys eventually waved him off, muttering among themselves as he turned away.
Instead of leaving, he walked toward me.
"You've been listening," he said casually.
I looked up, half surprised. "Uh… yes?"
He nodded. "I could tell. You didn't really interrupt once."
"I don't talk much," I said.
He smiled again, this time softer. "That's usually a good trait in testers."
He reached into his suit pocket, for an unknown reason the action caused my eyes to be drawn to the buttons on the wrist of his suit. On his right hand in his pocket were a pair of buttons purple and red, turning my eyes down to the one still down I noticed the same colors on that hand too.
thats and unusual pair of colors to have on a black suit
"If you're interested, consider stopping by. No pressure." he handed me a card drawing back from my wondering thoughts.
I took the card.
STARFALL INTERACTIVE
Beta Testing Division
There was an address beneath it—somewhere in town.
He nodded once and walked away.
I stared at the card long after he was gone.
That night, at home, I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling.
The card sat on my chest.
Paid testing.
It sounded too good to be true and usually such things are but it wasn't a new concept as it was quite common but not in a town if guess.
I did what anyone paranoid and broke would do—I researched.
To my surprise, Starfall Interactive was real. Registered. Licensed. Fast-rising. Mostly Lagos-based, but with mentions of "regional expansion" and "diverse test demographics."
They had articles. Interviews. Investors.
Legit.
Still… why here?
Turning around I asked my mom slightly raising my voice a lil bit for my mom and she gave me the general location.
"Why are you asking, you going somewhere or something?"
"Well I was planning on a kind of interview tomorrow" I replied.
The testing center was in town, yes—but far, quite literally in the other end of town. Too far for any "stroll" I could realistically deceive myself into taking.
Transport cost loomed over the idea like a wall.
As I sat there thinking, my mother's voice drifted from the living room.
"Let me call your brother."
I froze. Half already knowing what was coming.
A few minutes later, I heard her on the phone—speaking softly, vaguely. Talking about small needs. Household issues. Nothing specific.
I hated how familiar it sounded.
When she ended the call, she came into my room and placed some cash beside me.
"Your brother sent something," she said. "Take. You might need it."
I stared at the money.
"Mm… degwo ma," I greeted.
She nodded and left.
The guilt came immediately.
It always did.
The next day I woke up early as I didn't want to have to be in a queue to bathe, I dressed quietly and quickly, pocketed the cash, and stepped outside. The only transport available in this town waited where it always did—motorcycles lined up like patient vultures.
I climbed on one.
The ride was rough and Loud.
When we arrived, I nearly asked the rider to wait. The building in front of me didn't belong here or rather looked like it's was refurbished for its current needs.
It was… lavish.
Glass frontage. Clean paint. Security cameras. A generator humming steadily. Two uniformed guards at the entrance, standing alert.
This was no small-town setup.
I paid the rider and stood there for a moment, suddenly aware of my cheap clothes and slightly worn shoes.
I walked in anyway.
Security checked me. Metal detector. Visitor log.
"You can sit," one of them said. "Someone will attend to you."
The waiting area was air-conditioned.
That alone felt good but kinda made me feel like this was overkill just to reach new audiences.
Thirty minutes passed.
Then I heard heels.
A woman descended the staircase.
She was… stunning.
Dark, smooth ebony skin. Lustrous braids that reached down to her waist Full figure dresses in a pencil skirt and a suit with a the top buttons taken off maybe showing off. She had a Confident walk. Well-dressed.late 20s to Early thirties, maybe.
She smiled at me.
"Kamcy?"
"Yes," I replied, standing.
"I'm Destiny," she said. "Please follow me."
Her accent was light but noticeable. Calabar, if I had to guess.
As we walked, I tried to make conversation.
"So… big company like this, all the way out here?"
She smiled. "We're looking for diversity in our testing pool. Not everyone lives in Lagos."
That aligned with what I'd thought and what the man had said yesterday.
We walked upstairs into a room with rows of programmers typing furiously, screens filled with models, code, environments I didn't particularly understand, well some I did as I wasn't completely new to programming.
Finally, we reached a hallway.
A guard stood before a door.
"Your phone, please," Destiny said gently.
I hesitated, then handed it over.
Inside, the room was white.
Pure white walls. White floor. White ceiling.
The only contrast was a black table at the center, two chairs opposite each other. On the table sat a briefcase, a pen, and a single sheet of paper.
Cameras occupied all four corners of the room, their lenses quietly watching.
It felt clinical. Controlled.
Definitely weird.
She slid the paper toward me.
"NDA."
I read it carefully.
No recording. No disclosure. No reproduction.
I joked nervously, "im hoping there isn't some hidden clause where you harvest my organs, right?"
She laughed. "If it were, I wouldn't tell you."
That broke the tension.
I signed.
"Please sit."
She went to the opposite end of the table and placed her delicate fingers on the case and with a click it was opened, she took out a pair of goggles. Then an earpiece.
Cliche I thought.
She placed the pair of sleek goggles over my eyes. Then had me put the ear piece around my heard and not in my ear which I guessed I had seen online somewhere probably on a video and. But the design was a lil different
She then took out a small sleek tablet from the briefcase next in a way I felt was being delicately done to I dunno flex or something.
"I'll be activating the game, tell me what you see"
"Alright" I replied.
The world vanished.
"What do you see?" She asked
"It's completely dark" I replied.
"What about now" she asked
I saw a weird images which I could only describe with"Minecraft?"
With a chuckle she continued "and now?"
As if on cue I was immediately standing in a hyper-realistic cityscape. Wind. Sound. Depth.
I reached out—my hand passed through an object.
"It looks real," I said aloud. "Just… not interactive enough. Unless it's a shooter."
"Say status" destiny replied.
"Status" immediately a hud appeared on the left side of my view with various options, stats, shop, missions, items.
Going through them I found and understood the game as I was a well part time gamer I'd say. And then chose a gun but still it went through my hand. I couldn't help but feel excited. We conversed through various test like adding stats and going through the cityscape a d describing what it looked like.
"I stand by my statement that it'll be more fun if it were interactive, well I said a shooter last time but I can't even touch the gun so maybe Sims or something" I spoke a little excited at the possibilities.
Destiny's voice echoed. "There's a higher-level test. More immersive. Better pay."
I hesitated, quite excited but wondering if I really need to push it.
She chuckled. "No organs harvested. I promise."
I thought of the money. My family. My health.
"…Alright," I said, might as well get paid having fun I guess