B-11

Faint words were bricks that made the wall of the page. The light brown letters were like stones sticking out of the dark grey earth. Having departed from the manifesto, he stared intently at the faint words in the background. The more he looked, the more he read and clearer he saw.

They were all words from the manifesto, picked up as phrases. Some of them he recognised from the little he read. The greater majority were just words that didn't mean much. But he didn't stop, because his eyes wouldn't let him. They saw something he was yet to recognise. Until he did, he had to run along.

Near the bottom of the page, where the words were browner and the page greyer, he saw a flicker. His eyes opened wide, forcing him to see deeper. And he saw.

A letter was different from the rest of the word it was within. It wasn't the size or the font. Nor was it the colour. It was every bit the same, and yet, it was different. As if only to his eyes. As great as the pull of curiosity was, he couldn't allow indulgence.

The first letter made it easier to recognise the rest. The different letters were all over the wall. In his head, he saw the different letters as bright green rising above the brown. It was a breathtaking sight. He allowed himself a moment to admire the beauty.

Then he got started.

Starting at the top left, he listed all the letters that were different. There were twenty nine. He sat looking at the letters, waiting for them to reveal the secret they contained.

He stared long and hard, to discover that the letters were each minutely different from each other. The differences were almost like deformities. Not something possible by accident.

Feeling lost, he started reading the manifesto again. He could almost see Porto grinning at him from underneath the words. He saw Porto's lips move, and Porto's clear voice sounded in his head.

One with wisdom would see the recurring patterns.

Patterns. That was it. That was what he had been seeing but wasn't able to recognise.

He stared at the letters again. Trying to hear what they were telling him. And when he did, it wasn't because of the letters themselves.

He heard Porto. Darkness precedes dawn.

Could that be a reference? If the dark grey screen was the darkness, and the faint brown words were the first rays of dawn, then the letters with the deformities were what Porto spoke of. The struggle. The rise to arms.

He didn't realise he had been reading the first paragraph repeatedly, until he heard the numbers in his head. He was counting words as he was reading. When he read the last word, he counted twenty nine.

He had dawned. The letters were the key.

He understood what the blank spots on the page were. It was the lock. He clicked on the very first one, near the top of the page. The page dissolved into black. After ten seconds, a small circle appeared in the middle of the screen. It greeted him in an electronic voice.

-: Welcome member. Requesting credentials.

He didn't answer immediately. He knew he had the answer, without knowing what it was or how he knew he had it. Was it the letters? Did they form a word or a sentence? Was it a sentence or a phrase from the manifesto? Or, could it be as simple as his name?

There was no response from the tabletop as he searched for the keyboard. And he saw no other input method. It couldn't be speech, could it?

"Min," he answered.

-: Credentials confirmed. Welcome Min. How can I be of service?

"Who are you?"

It was the only question he could think in that moment. It didn't sound foolish in his head, so he had no scruple voicing it.

Truthfully, he didn't expect an answer. Maybe a question asking for clarification, or a declaration of the inability to understand. And so, he was surprised.

-: I'm not the man, but I am Porto Magus. Would you like a more detailed answer?

"No. Thank you. What am I doing here?"

Now, he had to laugh at himself. How stupid could he get, expecting an answer to such a question.

"Scratch that. Tell me more about Porto."

The answer was a few seconds in coming.

-: Sure. Would you like the story of Porto Magus' life? Or, would you only prefer how he came to write the manifesto?

He didn't have to think long.

"From the beginning, please."