They took everyone in Afkaz out to the town square. At the top of the balcony was a small white step stool underneath a cable. I knew what was coming. We’d all been taken out onto the court a half dozen times. Time to cheer the death squad. Sometimes they’d shoot them, and sometimes they’d chop the head clean off. They were pretty creative. I saw the sea of girls in burkas. I saw her, hidden under there. The figure of my wife. Ghada was in the crowd. I could see her look at me. Not for long though. I mouthed I’m sorry. Who knows if she understood it.

They brought out the infidel with his hands tied. These things were always the same. The prisoners were so starved they wore blank, dead masks on their face. They stared, listened as their crimes were read in Arabic to the kangaroo court. Then they were kicked off the edge, hanging by cables.

This prisoner was no different. He stepped onto the stool, teetered and nearly fell off the edge of the second story.

He balanced back, using his cable noose as leverage, and listened to his fate. The sentence was broadcast into the loudspeaker. We listened with empty hearts, and hungry eyes. The miracle of death was a curious thing.

The decree was read, and the megaphone lowered. A soldier with a balaclava approached. The prisoner seemed inspired. As the balaclava rushed in, the prisoner jumped poorly into the air with both feet. His neck jutted from the cable wrapped around it. His legs came up, knee to chest.

This guy dropkicked the balaclava soldier, square in the chest. Off balance and off-guard, the balaclava guard careened off the edge of the balcony. The prisoner fell in tandem with the balaclava, in the opposite direction. The cable scratched tight on the prisoner’s fleshy neck. He was unevenly pulled out of his spinal cord. He hung there for a fresh moment, and then the “thud” of the balaclava continued onto the concrete below. The crowd erupted in laughter. Hell, I lost it. It was great until the fuckin’ loudspeaker guard fired three shots into the audience. Not a bullet connected. The prison learned a dirty little secret in that courtyard: You can resist these savages even up to your final action.

The guards, however; were pissed. Before I knew it, I was back to getting manhandled. They brought me to the computer cave, and what a surprise: Samir was there working. On my computer. Samir turned and smiled. “Man die?” I smiled right back at him.

“You have no idea.”

He turned back and I could see that he was moving the machine around. There was a whole ‘nother set of computer monitors set up across the table. Great. Now what? It wasn’t long before the king burst into the room, along with a few guards. He was very unpleasant. Probably from the execution.

“You decide?”

Ah, yes. The ole’ Mom or the Browns situation. Well, I had decided. Mom. She did everything for me. She was dying for me, and I’d be damned if I’d let her die. Especially now that I had found a way to pay for her treatment. No. I didn’t care where I might be in history. I wasn’t going to let her die. I’d just have to blow up the Browns. Please, LeBron. Please don’t be in the stadium.

“I don’t think it’s gonna work,” was what I said. In hindsight, probably not the best time to disappoint the king. He immediately threw a table that was next to the door. “It’s the planes! I’ll do the Browns, whatever, but I don’t know if I’ll actually be able to do it.” The king was now up in my face.

“You Hefty. You do anything.” He had me there.

“I mean, mostly. I think I can’t do this.”

“You think stupid me.” Well when you put it that way. Yes, I did.

“No!” I said.

The king shoved me hard into a wall. “This plan? Stop with hacking now it Browns?”

“No, I’m telling you. What you want is impossible. The tech. it’s—” The king slapped me down. “Ah, it’s impossible. It’s the planes.”

“Planes? You buy planes.”

“No, it’s just they’re not on the internet. I can only do things if they’re on the internet.” He slapped me hard again. I started crying. “I’ve been thinking. I’ve been thinking. I don’t know how to do it!”

The king then said something to his guards. They came and viciously grabbed me. One held me down, another grabbed my hands. A third grabbed my middle finger. Damn, it hurt so bad. Then I saw a knife come out. “I’m sorry! I’m SORRY! I don’t know! I’ll try! Please. PLEASE! I’ll try! I can’t code if you do that!”

“I want bomb!”

“I’ll try. Please. I can’t code if you cut those off.” Even Samir started yelling at the king. He hesitated, then he said something else to his guards. In a second, they twisted me around. My shoes came off. Now I felt the guards gripping my toes. My index toe. “NO! Please. I said I’d Try!”

The king stepped into my vision. “No foot finger need for computer.”

“Please, ple, ple, pleaaasse!” Then I said something I hadn’t said in a long, long time. “MOMMY! Help! Mommy, please. Please. I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you want. Just let me go.” My belly got really warm.

The king knelt. “You have,” he held up ten fingers. “Each day, no bomb,” then he started to count his fingers down. “Joke over, Hefty. Bomb. YULLAH!”

The guards let go, and I curled up. The water works streamed. There wasn’t any hope. I was gonna lose my toes, my mom. My life. I couldn’t hack the military. Not like that.

The king put a boot to my shoulder. “Start. I give one hour… Go.”

I inhaled. Then I ran to the computer. If Samir was in my seat, I’d have kneed him. I got on Tor, then just started. Where to begin? What to search? An hour. I was crying. This wasn’t good. I was hardly able to breathe. But I had to do it. If I couldn’t, Mom was toast. No! No. I started to root around, seeing if I could find anything in the back alleys of Tor. Any kind of info about hacking into the government. Maybe if I could get into the agencies, I could find something.

I saw one thing, about hacking your taxes. I didn’t even understand what that was, but the guy had some software. He used to contract with the government. He said he put a back door to the IRS. That meant he could break in super easy. But he created that. I didn’t know if it would work anywhere else. But I remembered: Security in Obscurity. There were tons of amazing hackers, but the government wasn’t necessarily paying the best people.

All the grey hat computer guys who have to work for the government. They had to have made the same mistakes. From the IRS to the FBI. I could find their mistakes. I had to.

So I downloaded his software. It was an enormous file. Thank GOD I had all this computing power in this Intel Titan. If this was on my rig at my apartment, it would take 3 hours to download. I got my cloud-code-bible and got busy.

As it loaded, I saw Samir on the edge. He was glued to his screen. I get it. Samir was my tattle-tail babysitter. He could see what I could saw. His monitor was glued to mine like a mirror. Wow, this kid wasn’t bad with computers. I wondered where he learned.

Actually, I didn’t care, I had less than 45 minutes to figure this out.

The download came into place, and I could see the code. I went through it, up and down, analyzing it. It sucked ’cause it was all linked to the IRS website. It was .gov, and I didn’t really go through too many of those. I also didn’t usually try to poke the big bear of the government. That’s how you go to jail, but now wasn’t the time to be sneaky. If people saw, I didn’t really care.

So I hit a dead end. Okay. That’s it. Thanks for playing. Now your mom dies. And you’ll hang from a cable. Just like drop-kick dude.

I thought of that dude. He saved up all his strength, just for one kick. To defy.

That guy kicked ass. Chest, technically. And I kicked ass. I was Hefty. I could do anything.

If it’s .gov, that meant it was on a similar server. No, the military didn’t do .gov. They had a whole ’nother thing going on. I’m sure just layers and layers of security. Security through Obscurity.

What about… what about air shows. That’s all the King wanted, right?

I started to look up air shows in Tor. Before too long, I was easily able to find a server for everyone who was involved in airshows. and then I found the one for the Cleveland airshow. DAMN, they hired a ton of people for those.

I cruised through all these documents, and found people who had military in their titles, and all of their info. Somebody had to have a loose end. I started running all their emails and cell phones through my software. I built all kinds of systems that could do work for me.

Check. BINGO!

One popped up. He had all kinds of passwords that weren’t protected. Some soldier called “Euchre”. I didn’t get it, but I did have his passwords. I got on the right site and put in his info and BOOM. I was in the Air Force computers. Man, this was a breadcrumb trail that would not end kindly. For anyone in this whole town.

Regardless, I kept snooping, and then I found an air schedule, the one for all of Brown’s Stadium. And there it was: New Year’s Day.

That’s what the king told me. New Year’s Day, this was all going down. Whatever, I just needed to find the schedule. New Mexico→Cleveland? I searched through the paperwork and then I saw it: B-2 Spirit.

Wow. That was it. The B-2 bomber.

That would work. That thing had to have some bombs. The new Presidential Executive whatever laws, and all.

Twenty-three minutes left! LeBron’s Number. Oh, Bron, Give me strength.

So I had the bomber. The B-2. Now how the crap would I use it.

Since I was in the Air Force mainframe, I could look through their manuals. The dates on everything were crazy. This thing was made in like the ’60s. I started to cry again. The ’60s? How was I gonna do anything with that? The plane probably ran on like Vietnam computers. It probably didn’t even HAVE computers.

I wasted the next 15 minutes reading anything and everything I could. Nothing came up. I looked over at Samir. He looked worried. That was a problem. That meant that whatever I was planning was not going to end well.

Then, in my lowest point ever, I tried something crazy. Something out of left field. Reddit. I typed in B-2 Bomber. I started seeing AirForce subreddits, and forum after forum after forum of nothing, then I accidentally clicked on news. I didn’t mean to. I immediately went to go to videos, but I saw something. As the news screen loaded (and I clicked it away) I saw two words: “B-2 Bomber” and “Tesla”. Okay, 3 words. Whatever. I went back and I read the news article.

Blah, blah, Air Force, Blah Blah Aging vehicle has been Secretly working Blah Blah,. PRESTO: Tesla.

Tesla had been contracting with the Air Force. For a while. They were renovating the B-2.

“This kind of collaboration is making the B-2’s efficiency soar. Tesla Motor Company has revamped the inside workings of the B-2, adding internet connectivity to the aging aircraft, and making the overall controls smoother and network serviceable.” Network. Serviceable.

I leaped out of my seat.

I ran around the room. I scared Samir.

“Yes! Yes! YEEeeeEEES!” Samir looked on. He was happy. I dropped to my knees I started crying. I think Samir was confused. I could do this. I could do this.

I looked at Samir. “Tell the king I can do it.”

Samir bolted for the door. As soon as he was gone, I bolted to the computer.

That hanging soldier put something into me. A spirit. A way I could fight.

I didn’t have a lot of time. Once the king came back, my window was over. This was the last time I would be alone with my computer.

Let’s do it baby, one last time, you and me.

I figured I could code a private window. Samir was seeing what I was seeing. But what if my screen was different from his? What if I could do what I wanted, and he’d be none the wiser.

No, Hefty, he’s right in front of you. He’ll notice.

Hefty. Heftyware. Screens. Pay walls.

A screen. That comes on. And gives me a window. That’s it.

I started coding. The code of my lifetime.

I created a window. A window that opened every 23 minutes. When it opened, I had 60 seconds. That was my 60 seconds. I could do whatever I wanted. Send any email, go anywhere on the internet. All Samir would see is a rewind of the last 30 seconds I just did. It would rewind for 30 seconds, and play for 30 seconds, and then go back onto my screen.

Heftyvision. Why not? Titles didn’t matter. I just had to finish coding it. I heard the door open behind me. It was Samir. And the king.

I clicked away. I must have averaged 220 words a minute. Maybe faster. My middle finger went numb. With my final clicks I made sure that Heftyvision didn’t show up on any history. When the 60 seconds were up, the session would look like it never happened. No autocorrect. No fill-in-da-blank. It was for my eyes only.

ENTER.

CLOSE.

I did it.

The king inhaled to say something. I didn’t dare let him speak first. “I did it. I got your Bomber. B-2. I’m gonna be able to pull this off.” I swiveled in my chair, turning to him and Samir. “I’m gonna need sometime. Gotta figure out the logistics.” The king was about to speak again, and he had that impatient air about him. I intercepted his words with, “That work for you?”

He closed his mouth. His eyes were still a warm fire, but they did nothing for me anymore. I was baptized in Ghada’s cool lapis wonders. He said something to Samir, then turned and left. I swiveled back and saw my monitor. The abyss stares back. Johnny said that once. I think it was from the Simpsons.

Time to test out this Heftyvision.