The evening sun beat down on Dogongada, the dust rising from the untarred road with every little disturbance. Daniel walked quickly, the rhythm of UK Trap pulsing through his AirPods, a quarter-kilo nylon bag of red Scotch bonnet peppers swinging gently from his hand. His mother, Sarah, had sent him out for them.
Everything felt like waiting these days – waiting for university admission, waiting for something… anything… to break the monotony since finishing his WAEC exams a month ago. His results were good, very good actually, but good results didn't pay bills or guarantee a spot in the overcrowded university system. And to be honest he was slightly weary, mixed between the excitement of going to University and the impatience as weeks turned into months.
His slides kicked up dust as they treaded the familiar street. Vendors called out prices for oranges and groundnuts, the smell of frying bean cake (Akara) hung in the air, mingling with the faint scent of exhaust fumes from a passing commercial motorcycle.
His reflection stared back from the dark screen of his phone – a 16-year-old face, decent looking, with an intelligent gleam in his eyes. He was tall for his age, about 1.77 meters, lean from years of street football.
"How far, Daniel?"
The voice came from a small tailoring shop in between a provision store and a building site. Moses, a short, light-skinned guy Daniel knew vaguely from church, leaned out, sewing machine whirring behind him.
Daniel pulled out one AirPod with a slight smile, the music volume dropping. "I'm good, Moses. How is work?"
"We thank God brother. Everywhere good." Moses reciprocated the smile and turned back to his work. An acquaintance. Not important.
Daniel popped the AirPod back in, the bass thumping against his eardrum again. 'I hope I receive admission soon,' the thought repeated itself, slightly amplifying the worry.
FUTA, Federal University of Technology, Akure. That was the goal. Computer Science.
He loved tinkering with things and understanding how they worked, and he loved high-end tech and software, even if his current phone, an Infinix Hot 40i he'd saved up for months to buy, mostly with financial assistance from his mom, wasn't exactly cutting edge. That was his passion, and that was why he wanted to study CS.
His compound gate was just ahead, a rusty black metal affair that creaked annoyingly when pushed. He lived in a two-bedroom flat on the ground floor with his mother and his younger female cousin, Elizabeth.
Life wasn't hard, but it wasn't easy either. His mum worked hard selling provisions from a decent-sized kiosk attached to the house, nagging him often about pressing phone too much or not having found a holiday job yet, but her care was undeniable. Elizabeth, a year younger, was quiet and helpful, already likely washing dishes or sweeping inside.
He pushed the gate open and stepped into the small, sandy compound shared by four flats. He went straight to theirs, the blue door faded by the sun.
"Mummy! I'm back oh!" he called out, stepping inside. "They said it's only 500 Naira own they have for the pepper."
"No problem," his mother's voice floated back from the kitchen. "Bring it."
He walked into the small sitting room, sparsely furnished with a well-maintained three-seater couch, a couple of plastic chairs, and a low center table covered with a lace cloth. He automatically dropped the peppers on the table.
"Daniel!" His mother appeared at the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on her wrapper. "Is that the sink? Take that thing inside jo."
He sighed inwardly, picking up the peppers and taking them the few steps into the equally small kitchen, dropping them by the metal sink where Elizabeth was scrubbing a pot. She glanced up, making a face to which Daniel promptly responded to with the middle finger on the way out.
Back in the sitting room, he pulled out his second AirPod, the sudden silence a bit hard to get used to. He sank onto the couch, the cushions sighing under his weight, and his slightly tensed body relaxed, forgetting about the worries from a few minutes ago. A bit bored, he pulled out his phone, intending to scroll through Instagram or check football scores.
That's when he saw it.
Wedged between his familiar app icons – WhatsApp, Instagram, Audiomack, OPay – was something new. Something he hadn't downloaded. The icon was strange: a dark rectangle filled with what looked like strings of green ones and zeros, arranged to resemble a stylized dollar bill. Below it, the name read simply: 'Money Hack'.
Daniel frowned, leaning closer. "What the heck is this?" he muttered aloud.
"Ki ni?" Elizabeth asked curiously from the kitchen doorway, holding the now-clean pot. "What is it?"
Daniel shook his head, quickly minimizing the screen. "None of your business you this girl. Fi mi le (Leave me alone)."
She nodded, unconvinced but uninterested enough to go back to her chores.
Daniel stared at the icon again. Money Hack. It looked shady. Like the kind of app that promised free data or airtime but ended up stealing your information or installing malware. His phone was new; getting a virus now would be disastrous, a waste of months of savings. He instinctively moved his thumb towards the icon, intending to long-press and uninstall.
But then he hesitated.
'This blasted curiosity!' Even though reason told him to delete the damn thing and get it over with, a nagging thought at the back of his mind was telling him to check it out. What if… What if it wasn't malware? The name was provocative. Money Hack. It sounded too good to be true, which usually meant it was. Still, deleting it without even checking? Something felt wrong about that, like turning down a lottery ticket just because the odds were low.
'Well,' he thought, shifting into a more comfortable position on the couch, 'What's the worst that could happen? If it asks for permissions, I'll just deny and delete.'
With a deep breath, bracing himself for pop-up ads or a sudden phone freeze, he tapped the icon.
To his surprise, the app opened smoothly. No splash screen ads, no immediate permission requests. Just a clean, dark-themed interface. Minimalist. Professional, almost. It asked for an email, a desired username, and a password.
He paused. Giving his email felt risky. He quickly created a new burner Gmail account on the spot – dan.tech.test01@gmail.com. He chose a username: 'Dan_T'. And a simple password he could remember but didn't use elsewhere. He filled in the details.
'Okay, so far so good,' he thought, a sliver of relief mixing with the growing curiosity. 'It hasn't hacked my phone… yet.'
After he submitted the details, the app loaded a simple main screen – dark background, a few icons at the bottom, and a large '$0.00' display at the top. A small pop-up appeared: "Welcome, Dan_T! Click here for Introduction and Guide."
He tapped the pop-up. Text began scrolling onto the screen, detailing the app's purpose and functions. He started reading, his eyes casually scanning the first few lines.
Then they widened.
He scrolled faster, his breath catching in his throat. His heart began to pound, drumming against his ribs. He read about advanced blockchain, utilizing global computing power, predicting markets with near-perfect accuracy, trading automatically, borrowing virtual capital interest-free, cloaked international transfers…
'…Administrator (first user) can modify Rule 1 and 2… Congratulations, Dan! You are the first user… Happy Hacking!'
The phone nearly slipped from his suddenly sweaty hands.
'Fuck!'
He shot up from the couch, his legs stiff. He stumbled towards the small bathroom adjoining the sitting room, his breathing ragged, realization settling in. He leaned over the sink, splashing cold water onto his face, again and again. The shock was icy, jolting through him and clearing his thoughts.
He looked up, meeting his own wide, bloodshot eyes in the small, cracked mirror. He looked down at his hands. Shaking. Images from the app description flashed in his mind – limitless potential, untraceable money, administrative control.
'If… if any of that is true…' he thought, his mind almost unable to form coherent sentences beyond the core idea. 'If this is real… then I'm set. For life.'
He leaned his forehead against the cool, damp mirror, trying desperately to regulate his breathing, but the possibility felt almost like a physical weight crushing his chest. The implications were vast. Life, as he knew it, might have just irrevocably changed.