TALENEST PRESENTS
LIFE IS JACOB'S GAME
Chapter Four: The First Door
Written by Regina Mgingwa
At 1:47 p.m., Jacob Brooks stood outside Northstar Solutions, staring at a glass building so clean it looked like nobody inside had ever made a mistake.
He checked the address on Richard Hale's business card for the fourth time.
Same building. Same street. Same company name.
"Either I'm in the right place," he muttered, "or rich people have started building identical buildings to confuse poor people."
His stomach growled.
Jacob looked down at it. "Not now. We're investigating a possible conspiracy. Can you be professional for ten minutes?"
His stomach answered with another growl.
"Fine. If we survive, I'm buying you a burger."
He pushed through the revolving door.
The lobby smelled of polished wood, expensive perfume, and money Jacob had never seen outside a music video. A wall-sized screen displayed the Northstar logo: a silver compass star floating above the words BUILDING TOMORROW.
Jacob studied the logo.
A compass pointed north. A star guided travelers. Together, they were supposed to help people find their way.
He wondered why a company dedicated to direction had sent him a message telling him that the first door was a lie.
At the reception desk sat a woman in a navy suit, typing with the speed of someone who had never needed to ask a friend how to format a résumé.
"Good afternoon. How may I help you?" she asked without looking up.
"I'm here to see Richard Hale."
Her fingers stopped.
For half a second, the pleasant expression on her face disappeared. Then it returned, carefully arranged.
"Do you have an appointment?"
"Not exactly."
"Then I'm afraid Mr. Hale is unavailable."
"That's interesting. His card says I should ask him about the Black Star Room."
This time, she looked directly at Jacob.
"Where did you hear that name?"
Jacob gave her his most innocent smile. It was a smile he had developed over years of convincing teachers that forgotten homework was a complicated philosophical problem.
"A friend told me."
"What friend?"
"The kind who doesn't appreciate being named in strange buildings."
She picked up the desk phone.
"Security, please come to reception."
Jacob sighed. "I should have said I was here to sell cookies."
Two security officers approached. Both were large enough to make Jacob reconsider every decision he had made since breakfast.
"Sir, we need you to come with us," one said.
"Am I under arrest?"
"No."
"Good. Because I left my expensive lawyer at home."
Neither officer laughed.
Jacob followed them toward a corridor. He had learned something important growing up poor: when people with power wanted you to feel small, acting frightened usually made their job easier. He was frightened, certainly. But fear did not mean he had to surrender his ability to think.
As they passed a row of offices, he noticed a small red light blinking above a door marked ARCHIVE ACCESS — AUTHORIZED STAFF ONLY.
The light blinked twice, paused, then blinked twice again.
Jacob slowed down.
"Keep moving," said the guard behind him.
"I am moving. I'm just admiring the architecture. My neighborhood has a very different approach to interior design."
At the end of the corridor, the officers opened a door and led him into a conference room. A man in his late forties stood beside a window overlooking the city. He wore a charcoal suit and a silver watch. His hair was neatly trimmed, and his expression suggested that surprises were an inconvenience he had paid someone to eliminate.
Jacob recognized him immediately.
Richard Hale.
"Thank you," Richard told the guards. "Leave us."
The door closed.
Richard studied Jacob for several seconds.
"You're younger than I expected."
"People keep saying that. I'm starting to think there's a secret meeting where everyone agrees on what I should look like."
Richard did not smile.
"Who gave you my card?"
"You did."
"I have never met you."
"Then either someone is very good at copying your handwriting, or your memory needs a software update."
Jacob placed the card on the table.
Richard looked at it. The moment he saw the embossed message on the back, his face changed.
THE FIRST DOOR IS A LIE.
For the first time, Jacob saw something that looked like genuine fear in the older man's eyes.
Richard turned the card over, then back again, as though the words might disappear if he examined them from another angle.
"Where did you get this?" he whispered.
"I just explained that."
"No. Listen carefully. Who gave it to you?"
Jacob's humor faded.
"Someone broke into my home last night. My mother and I barely got out. Then I received a message about you, this company, and something called the Black Star Room. My friend Malik may be in danger. So I'm done playing twenty questions. Tell me what is happening."
Richard walked to the door and checked the corridor through its narrow glass panel.
"You should never have come here."
"That is a terrible thing to tell someone after security has escorted him through the building."
"I'm serious."
"So am I. I haven't eaten lunch."
Richard returned to the table and lowered his voice.
"Northstar develops security systems, data platforms, and predictive software for major institutions. A few years ago, one of our research teams created a prototype that was never meant to leave a restricted laboratory."
"What kind of prototype?"
"A system capable of connecting information that ordinary systems would treat as unrelated. Financial records, access logs, communications, movement patterns. It could reveal relationships people had spent years hiding."
Jacob leaned forward.
"So, a very expensive machine for finding out who is lying."
"In simple terms, yes."
"I could have built that with a notebook and three suspicious neighbors."
"This was different. The system could identify patterns across millions of records. It could predict where a person might go, whom they might contact, and which decisions they were likely to make."
Jacob remembered the message that had appeared on his phone. He remembered the intruders arriving before midnight, the lights failing, and the tall figure that seemed to have no shadow.
"What happened to the project?" he asked.
"It was shut down."
"That's what people say when they don't want to explain what happened to something."
Richard looked toward the window.
"The lead engineer was Daniel Price. He discovered that someone had altered the system's objectives without authorization. He reported it. Three days later, he disappeared."
"And the police?"
"Investigated."
"And found nothing?"
"Nothing they could prove."
Jacob took out his phone and showed Richard the news article about Daniel's disappearance.
"Why did someone send me here?"
"I don't know."
"You looked at that card like it was a snake. You know more than you're saying."
Richard's jaw tightened.
"The Black Star Room was a nickname used by a small group of engineers. It wasn't on the official floor plans. They used it to test the prototype in isolation."
"Where is it?"
"It doesn't exist anymore."
Jacob sat back.
"You know, for a technology company, this place has a remarkable number of things that don't exist."
Richard ignored the remark and opened a drawer. He removed a small black device, no bigger than a USB drive, and placed it on the table.
"Daniel left this with me shortly before he disappeared."
Jacob stared at it.
"You kept evidence connected to a missing employee in your desk?"
"I kept it because I didn't know whom I could trust."
"You could have tried the police."
"I did."
"And?"
"The officer who took my statement was transferred the next morning. The file was sealed. I received a warning from someone who knew my home address and my daughter's school."
The room seemed to grow quieter.
Jacob looked at the device again. Suddenly, it seemed much heavier than its size suggested.
"Why give it to me?"
"I'm not giving it to you. I'm showing you that Daniel was afraid of something powerful enough to silence people inside and outside this company."
"Then why tell me any of this?"
Richard hesitated.
"Because someone has started asking questions again. And last night, the building's old security system recorded an access attempt using Daniel's credentials."
Jacob's heart beat faster.
"When?"
"At 11:58 p.m."
That was almost exactly when the strangers had appeared at his home.
"Where did the access attempt come from?" Jacob asked.
Richard turned his monitor toward him. A map of the building appeared, followed by a list of access points. Most were marked green. One was red.
LEVEL B — ARCHIVE ACCESS.
Jacob remembered the blinking light in the corridor.
"I saw that door on the way here."
Richard stood abruptly.
"You saw what?"
"The archive door. Red light above it. Looked like it was trying to send a message."
Richard's face drained of color.
"That's impossible. Level B has been sealed for three years."
Before Jacob could respond, the lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then every screen in the room went black.
A low electronic tone sounded from the ceiling. Richard rushed to his computer, but the display remained dark. From somewhere beyond the conference room, a door slammed shut.
Jacob stood.
"Please tell me this is a scheduled fire drill."
A voice came through the room's wall speaker. It was calm, almost gentle, and entirely unfamiliar.
"Richard Hale. You have violated the agreement."
Richard froze.
The voice continued.
"The boy was not supposed to enter the building."
Jacob looked at Richard.
"I would like to officially complain about the customer service here."
No one answered.
The conference room door clicked. Its electronic lock turned red.
Then the voice spoke again.
"Jacob Brooks, you have two choices. Leave the device and walk out alone, or keep it and discover why Daniel Price disappeared."
Jacob stared at the small black drive on the table.
Someone knew his full name. Someone knew he was there. And whoever controlled the building had been listening to every word.
Richard whispered, "Don't touch it."
Jacob looked at him. "You brought it out of a drawer and put it in front of me. What exactly did you expect me to do? Admire it?"
He reached toward the device.
The room's lights returned.
For one brief second, the dark monitor displayed a single line of white text:
WELCOME BACK, JACOB.
Jacob pulled his hand away.
"Welcome back?" he said. "I've never been here before."
Richard looked as though he had just seen a ghost.
"Jacob," he said quietly, "I need you to tell me the truth. Did you ever meet Daniel Price?"
"No."
"Did anyone in your family work for Northstar?"
"Not that I know of."
Richard closed his eyes for a moment.
"Then there's something about your past that someone has gone to great lengths to hide."
Jacob felt the room tilt—not physically, but in the way the world changes when a familiar floor suddenly reveals a trapdoor.
His mother had always told him that his father left when he was too young to remember. There were no photographs displayed in their apartment, no stories about his father's childhood, and no relatives who spoke about the subject for long.
Jacob had never pushed too hard. Life had given him enough immediate problems to solve.
Now, a stranger in a glass building was telling him that his own history might be connected to a missing engineer and a secret machine.
His phone vibrated.
A message from Malik appeared on the screen.
JACOB, I'M ALIVE. DON'T TRUST HALE. CHECK THE STAR ON THE CARD.
Another message arrived before Jacob could reply.
HE KNOWS WHO YOUR FATHER WAS.
Jacob looked at Richard.
For the first time that afternoon, he had no joke ready.
Outside the window, across the street, a man stood beneath the shadow of a building. He wore a dark coat and watched the conference room.
Even in the afternoon sunlight, Jacob could not see a shadow beneath his feet.
The man raised one hand and pointed directly at Jacob.
Then every phone in the conference room rang at once.
End of Chapter Four.