Shades of Wolves

Chapter 12: Dancing characters

Chapter 12: Dancing characters

When the pandemic came, too many people died that everyone was creeped of going out. But if you become the champion of WIC, your life will be even more creeping.

I saved my mother, but I couldn't save my life. Every time I close my eyes, the image of my whole body covered in blood, the hoarse scream from the others’ throats, the callous eyes of the witnesses who decided to ignore it startled me. I have had insomnia for a year straight and had to undergo psychological treatment for months.

WIC doesn’t allow their champions to erase their memory of the competition, because they're the living symbols. The lights and halos and auras that are coming from those talk shows or the winners’ popularity are all magnets that attracts tons of ephemeras to rush into this bloody bet.

I’ve become the supervisor of WIC. Not for money or for power. Just because, I have to save those people who deserve a life.

Stacy

Hoa sat in beside the window. She looked out into the vast dark space in front of her. She recalled the contest when she had been 7 years old. It had been a memory contest taken place in the northern states of the United States. No one would have expected the youngest girl to make it to the final.

The judge had put her and Felix into the house with a lot of furniture. They had sat there for 5 minutes. The next thing had been that they’d given both of them the same picture and asked to find the difference with the house they had just entered. When Hoa had raised her trophy up, Felix had cried and collapsed. The disappointment must have been so great that she still hated Hoa until now.

After that, they had been all recommended to go to the genius class. However, a big incident had happened. The pandemic at that time had been at its peak. Everyone had been miserable and in need of money. Unlike the rest of the world, WIC had started its brilliant era in mind-modifying technology. With her superior memory, Hoa had immediately been targeted. There had been no parent who would have not wish to have a rare brilliant brain that could help their children to have a bright future. A week after her glory, she had been kidn*pped.

Her mother had been a police officer. She and her team had gone into the lair of the traffickers and saved her. But because of that, she had gotten the virus in her system.

It had destroyed her lungs. In those last years of her life, Hoa had been told by her mother to hide in the guise of an ordinary student. All her exams grade had gone from A+ to C or D. Her life had turned to another page. No one had remembered how she had been the hope of America. This secret had only been known by her father and Mahoney. Every time she was reminded of this, the pain in Hoa seemed to rise up, the image of her mother with weak breathing and pale skin made her drown in pain.

Hoa held the code in her hand. She sighed as she let the memory settle down again. She should just take her steps forward and step as quickly as possible. Shouldn’t she? With the light of the lamp in front of her, she placed Russel’s piece of paper in her line of sight “ T008(triangle*)X(triangle*)”. A series of mixed numbers, letters and pictures. It was a strange complex that Hoa encountered for the first time.

But it was very likely that it was related to the isomorphism. The lecture on the blackboard along with the integration of two triangles with the scale of ½ helped her confirm that. That was why since yesterday until now, Hoa had not stopped calculating. T could be a constant. In physical quantity, it could also be a letter. X could also be similar to that. 0 and 8 were just normal numbers.

The top of the range was a descending triangle. With its top looked so, it might be representing mobility instead of balance like a flat-bottomed triangle. They were like dancing letters. Players were only able to figure out how to solve them the moment they caught the rhythms.

Speaking of rhythms, Hoa suddenly remembered of Peccinini’s disc. She also wanted to hear what the melody of death was like.

Hoa took it out, pressed the button in the middle. The tiny disc was spining at lightning speed, creating beautiful infrared rays, which turn together into a small touch panel. Hoa set the playing mode as from the beginning. She wanted to know how he arranged the flow of emotions.

But when the music began to play, it caught her off guard. She was really surprised. It had a dramatically monumental vibe with a strong and fast c****x. If Hoa could put her imagination together of how he had seen those deaths, it must be the glorious death of the soldiers on the battlefield. It was where their blood was made from the color of the flag and inner courage.

Hoa sat down at the table. The disc was still spinning in the air. She was still working hard with the numbers, but really stuck. Hoa began to doodle those musical notes. She knew it seemed to be pretty dumb, but it was a way for her to relax her mind a bit. She closed her eyes to feel the beat. Her pencil moved up and down on itself. It was up and down with the melodies until it was broken in half by a force.

Hoa opened her eyes wide, looking at the complex below. She began to note down her findings. While it's really hard to believe, it's entirely possible.

………………..

It's much colder today. The temperature had dropped below 10 degrees. The wind blowing felt like a frosty knife that would make people go freeze.

Sammul was still there. He lighted up a fire which was brighter than yesterday. It’s another fruit beer and today, it was an apple flavor. Those golden drops of liquid gurgled down his throat. There were a few that were oozing out, seeping into his black sweater. He hadn’t changed a bit since the interview. Simply, one color, one pair of glasses and one characteristic.

"You came here to find me. You must have known something." Sammul said as he placed another bottle of beer on the opposite side, which tasted honey.

“Kind of. But I'm not sure about it." Hoa went to her place.

“It doesn't have much to do with mathematical formulas?!”

As she kept silence, he asked again.

“It has nothing to do with congruent triangles?” Sammul asked again.

“Congruent is the key”

Hoa took a piece of paper from her pocket. There were countless symbols, fractions, calculations, musical notes, a scribbled up and down curve, a bold dot with pencil dust around, at the end of the line was a word on it.

She smiled looking at it. And it was difficult for her to understand why this decision was made, but it actually did create her a clearer orientation, a path to walk in the fog that she had been swimming round and round and round in exhaust for dozens of hours.

As soon as she found out, she knew that she had to find Sammul. He would probably evaluate her thoughts and possibly lead them to what they were looking for.

“I tried countless ways to transform this numeric-alphanumeric-picture test code, but it clearly didn't come together until I heard a piece of music."

Sammul waited for Hoa to continue.

“I have gone too far. It is really that complicated or we simply need to think less?”

Sammul said nothing, but his lips began to curl. That was a prove that he was interested in the answer she found.

“Can you feel it on the paper?”

“Toothless!”