Einstein's Brain

The trolley was moving through the walkway, and the physician behind it had a worried look on his face, that one which meant "Forget, this fellow is gone". Mrs Ridwon- the deceased half-sister need not be a wizard to decipher what he was gonna say. 'He is down Ma, I'm sorry the body has been embalmed. They have to lay him to rest or maybe have him confined for a while' he said like it was a nice tiding, with his whitish coat looking undone from having been worked for too long.

'Kamal has to see the corpse one last time before it is sowed into the earth' Mrs Ridwon said while he gave her an 'Oh sorry look'

"From where" Dr Leonard asked

"OAU Ibadan, studying Cyber Security" she replied, always giving away too much most times to strangers.

Leonard asked again "Is he an only child"

"No he is just the golden child" she answered with a sober tone and teary eye 'Why do you ask' she asked

"Nothing much just thinking of how he would get over it," Dr. Leonard said

The reply "That? With time he would get over it". Leonard shook his head in approval and stared as she wiped her face with a hanky, he wished he could help with weeping to j all iss'o, but that was against the principles of his profession.

They say 'The dead are given more flowers than those alive, because regret is more powerful than gratitude' and so was it with this Man. He was loved though but there were still a handful of people who despised him, not because they thought he was bad, but because they took his lifestyle personally. Of all his kinsmen, he was a certified Atheist and this never sat well with most people, but at his burial, they all looked emotional. If there were few polymaths left in the twenty-first century, I think he would surely make the list; he knew a bit about almost everything. With thirty-five honorary doctorates across the globe, well-acclaimed in academics, a moon whom no one ever saw its dark side. There aren't many people who could talk about him fearlessly, because he was just too loved to be thrown dirt, staying low-key amidst the fame.

The body was now ready to be laid to rest at his favorite villa - The Eagles Pride, except that the kinsmen were waiting for Kamal. The family's patriarch 'Mr. Suleiman' had his fingers on his chin, three years older than the deceased and a little less famous, the only member to have studied overseas, he read History. Thoughts flowed through his mind like water in the Pacific and he shook his head in a way which had in it 'Stop bothering me'. Somehow he felt he wasn't fulfilled with the dead, they never had good terms, It wasn't about the atheism stuff, but a silly form of fatal jealousy, but that's what you get when you're ahead of the pack.

The hall's giant door creaked and the whole kinsmen spurned their necks as if at a command. It opened, and through it came Kamal. He knew what had happened, having predicted earlier that his old man wouldn't survive the Leukaemia, not through knowledge though but by instinct, he believes Cancer is the 'Emperor of all maladies'.

"Just in time, how have you been?" Mr Suleiman asked. 'Let's get to it please' was the reply.

"Now everyone we're moving the corpse to.... "

" Calm down, not so fast, I would like to inspect the body before it's moved, nothing could be wrong though," Kamal said. 'Uh,' the whole kinsmen exclaimed, thinking that with the act, the young guy was possibly doubting their loyalty, but who wouldn't? Most of the family members present held a grudge or more with his old man. All stared as he took a few strides toward the coffin, but none could gather enough courage to stop him. The dead were their brother, but the boy was his son, his first son also, so definitely he had both the right and privilege to do his wish as long as he wasn't ill-minded. The coffin was plated gold, the deceased had got it from N Y C and demanded he be buried in it when he finally becomes history to those whom he once adored. It was quite deserving of the bulky cash paid for it; The lid slung left after a pull and he uncovered the shroud from it. Kamal as they all knew him had a way with words, an erudite, calm and thoughtful, humble too but he had bad reactions to a lot of shitty nonsense. And this time what he beheld was one of them.

"So you guys thought no one would know of this right? " he yelled in fury

" What do you mean" everyone inquired sonorously

"His brain isn't here, the chest is split and how is it certain nothing else was taken?" Kamal replied. That caused a lot of disbelief, but there was still someone in the hall who kept looking like it didn't matter. Most people who knew the dead called him Einstein, he had that nickname from his college days and it has stayed with him since then, that isn't weird if you come to accept the fact that he had such intelligence to account for it, and more so Einstein is his Idol. Most people don't realize it but for me, I see a coincidence.

"The only other time this has ever happened was 68 years ago, back in the year 1955 when Albert Einstein died" Uncle Suleiman was saying to Kamal with the seriousness of a flat-earther trying to win a round-earther over in an argument. 'And who did it Kamal pressed, his uncle kept still and mute trying to digest all the facts and myths about the infamous incident. Clearing his throat now and leaning forward like a cheetah about to pounce, he said "That man his name is Thomas Harvey, he stole the brain immediately after Einstein died and fled.

Not until years after Einstein's death did he return". He stopped to catch his breath, After which' he continued 'he had cut the brain into skinny pieces and done research on them' he finished. 'If I'm getting you right that means that the physicians know something about Dad's brain? Kamal inquired with a sort of tone that seemed like he wanted a 'yes' for an answer, but the grown adult having figured this out, replied 'Maybe, but we aren't so sure yet, the mortuary could be a suspect too"

"So what's next?" Kamal asked

"Lay low, low key! You know what I mean" he said using his fingers and arms to show the gesture. 'So we are just gonna sit back and let them get away with Dad's brain, Lord knows what they are going to do with it' Kamal fumed 'You see, this is like a chess game, a tough one though. Whoever did it probably thinks we haven't noticed, so he wouldn't be far away. That implies that we have to keep this silent before making a "Bobby Fischer" kind of move and I can assure you we are gonna have a repeat of the "Match of the Century". Saying the last words like a mother singing a lullaby to send it crying kid to sleep and Kamal too played calmly along, to him he had heard but didn't agree. All he thought was 'But not everyone is Byrne, what if the criminal is a Gasparov. So he just left without a word and he headed towards his old man's library, at least the only place where he could still have a feel of him. Now at the door, he halted starting at the inside like it was a temple and memories came back of the times he had been locked up in there, whenever Dad wanted to punish him or maybe he wanted him and his siblings to get a certain book finished on time. They jokingly called it "Private Prison ", but now it seems more like a library than a prison. It was here he had read some of the world's finest literature -Beloved, To Kill Mockingbird Bird, Invisible Man, Lord Of The Rings, King Solomon's Mines, The Grapes Of Wrath, Little Prince, Things Fall Apart, Lonely Days, The Hobbit, Waiting for the Barbarians, Life and Times of Michael K, How Europe Underdeveloped Africa, the Harry Potter series, the Hunger Games series, the Fifty shades series, Mastery, The 48 Laws of power, The Underground railroad, the Nickel boys, Journey To The West and other great works mostly historical fiction. He went in while still unsure if he was doing the right thing, but he felt the vibe, the feeling he always had when he is about to discover something crucial and he thought maybe everyone also had that type of vibe too, maybe Isaac Newton had it before he discovered gravity, maybe Planck had it before he discovered quantum Mechanics and so went the thought of maybes. He stared at a collage of his dad on the wall, made from different travels around the world, then around other things across the room, mostly souvenirs and toys. This time he stopped at a calendar, normal stuff that every living room had, it had marked dates on it, and that was normal too, people do that when they have important appointments, but there was a clue here. The sixth of every month was marked out, he knew it was strange, but how? That is a question he would need to answer. Behind the calendar was a white sheet, one which had figures that were written in red, much like short forms in a vertical arrangement. Things were now getting interesting and he felt like Usain Bolt about to receive a medal in front of thousands of smiling faces or maybe like a guy feeling happy after satisfying his mate's orgasm.

From the top, the figures went like this T.P, T.I, B.C, and some other crap down to about thirty figures. They made no sense and somehow it wasn't his business, but as queer as they seem 'I ought to know something about them' he thought. His old man wasn't just a father to him, he was an angel in human form, one sent down by the creator to bless his being. Kamal's mom had divorced their dad when the boy was just 7, so the man gave both fatherly morals and motherly care, he hasn't been much in touch with her, but where ever she is she can go fuck herself as much as he cared. He once heard someone say she was married with children, somewhere in the north and he was like 'Damn, so she will call those kids my siblings right? No chances' he would say whenever he got the chance to talk about it.

Standing with both hands on the wall and his dropped downward, he was doing nothing but trying to figure out what the figures meant. As young as he was, 19, no one had to tell him he was smart, he knew it. His Dad always called him Da Vinci whenever he was in a flattering mood, and Kamal always hoped he would die one day as learned as the genius was, though not as famous. Thus writing his name in the hieroglyphs of extraordinary people. So how then couldn't he make out the figures, not even one?

He got himself upright and got back to looking fixedly at them, each for about twenty seconds. When he got to 21, he got a clue as to what the figures meant, The figure at that spot was KKK and it seemed familiar, it didn't take up to a minute to make out it meant Ku Klux Klan. 'So these things are cult names? Uh,' he thought. Now tracing them upward with his eyes, the figures and their meanings came clear like distilled water: The Illuminati, the Pythagoreans, the Bohemian Club, and the rest. Now it is clear what the figures are, cult names, but his curiosity at this point was top-notch risen by the question "What does Dad do with this? ". But that wasn't the only pattern, in front of most of the figures was an ×, meaning disapproval, only the Bohemian club had a sign of approval on it. When things like this happen to teenagers, they feel dumbfounded like someone in a game where they stand no chance, or like a three-year-old in a maze. The only thing he was clear about at this point was that his dad had meddled with the Bohemians, he didn't know much about them either, but again he knew what to do about that, he just got on his 13 Pro-Max and headed straight to Google and typed "The Bohemian Club ", leaving the issue of the marked out date for a later time. To him, there were more hidden things which are better left untouched and he smiled at the thought that there should be a name for the explorer of hidden things, not a spy though. This time it was the collage that got him interested, there was this pic that had his dad with six other men of the same age range, though not colored. 'How come I have never met any of these guys' he said to himself, he pulled the pic off the collage and shoved it into his pocket. While returning to read the results from his search on Google.

From what he put together on Google, the Bohemian Club is one of the most powerful cults in history, having notable people as members, including Mark Twain, George Bush, Christopher Buckley, and other elites from California and all around. They had an occultic meeting place called the "Bohemian Groove" and here they discussed all sorts of things that interested them, mostly academics. Their Motto was "Weaving Spiders Come not here", which means that issues that aren't the cult's business should stay outside the cult.

This bit of facts was okay for a starter and his mind had moved on to the next task, his mind was moving at a pace so fast like a lost soul trying to find its life purpose moving in such a way to make up for wasted time. To him, he had discovered the 'what' of the situation, and it was time to face the 'how'. "How does Khalid Idryz, my Dad, fit into this picture?" simply.

Anyone would be confused, this is a Cult filled with a lot of white gentlemen, no females, and no history of black people, How then is someone from Africa, a dark man to the core claiming to be a member in what is undoubtedly a top 5 cult of all time and like Kendrick said 'Who said a Blackman in the Illuminati, last time I checked that was the biggest racist party'. Something isn't fitting in the puzzle and whatever it is, has to be fixed before the stone falls into the dung. With all this he could hear his belly making weird sounds, the tension had disturbed it and now he had to use the toilet. He left the library making quick strides toward the toilet which stood just near Khalid Idryz's room, he pulled the doorknob with much force, like that was the last time it was going to be used and into it he went, pulling down his trousers with ease and crashing on the WC like Oh Mother Save Me while letting out all of the shit he could. Just then he heard something vibrating in his trousers pocket since I don't need to tell you it was his phone, he brought it out and on the Screen was written The Wise, that was a nickname he had given his uncle after King Solomon of Israel. He picked it and the voice said ' I've got something to tell you. Someone....

" I'm in the toilet at the moment Uncle, I

can't deal with two shit at a time. I will call you when one shit is over " he said without letting the old man finish what he had to say, he dropped the phone and made do with the tissue to clean his butts. Now stepping out of the toilet he put his uncle's contact on the dial and the first thing the old man said when he picked is "Don't be so rude next time"

"Are you ready to tell me what it is, I've got a lot to do" Khalid replied

"It is already all over the news, everyone now knows your Dad's brain was stolen. Whoever stole the brain also broke the news" The wise said, there was mid-silence before Kamal finally spoke

"Whoever it is wants to fool the public into believing the brain was stolen among the family members "

"Exactly, you are smarter than your mark," Uncle Suleiman said

"But let's consider that, what if it is true? Maybe one of us did it and was trying to play on our intelligence.

"What?" Suleiman exclaimed "Don't worry I am coming over to discuss this' ' and he ended the call. He took a few steps to his room and changed outfits- he wore a black suit with a white inner and a black overall flowing all down to the knee, then completed it with a pointed hat and a pair of cowboy boots. He took the photograph he had taken from his Dad's library with him and together with a ciggy shoved it into his pocket.

Now close to Uncle Suleiman's house he saw a Rolls Royce parked in front of the gate, which caused a bit of surprise, it wasn't because he thought his Uncle couldn't own it, he actually could, but he didn't. Slowing down his bike, he came down to survey what was going on, behind the car was a man wearing all black conversing with his uncle. The two men were absorbed in some deep talk and whatever it was seemed very secretive for they kept their tone at an all-time low. Then after some minutes, they shook hands, Uncle Suleiman handed him a bag and the other man got into his car and was about to leave, this moment Kamal's brain told him "Must I tell you that you should follow him" and he wasted no time debating with his faculties whether the decision was legit or gross. Off he went with his bike and after the Royce he went, while he was riding his bike many thoughts meddled with his mind, maybe because he presumed what he was doing was as awkward as a cow on roller skates, what was worse is that none of the thoughts were encouraging, they all seemed to be saying 'go back', but then at this sort of moments in life, one had to choose between what is easy and what is right.

He kept going after the whip for about five kilometers and then it stopped, right in front of a hotel that had the name 'Legends Privacy' written at its top, Kamal wasn't fazed because the hotel had a reputation for being first class, mostly visited by the well-to-do s and banal among city folk. The man in the Royce came out and into the hotel, he went, Kamal didn't follow immediately, he just sat on his bike and with his eyes traced the man till he got to the clerk. Now that the man was right inside the building it was impossible to see what was going on and at this moment Kamal came down from his vehicle and made to go into the hotel, but then from nowhere someone said

"Hey you, what you going to do inside there? This place isn't for broke people you know' Kamal looked around and just behind him was a robust man with thick shoulders and a wide chest, he had a brownish uniform on him and Kamal made it out that he should be the hotel guard.

"I'm here to get a room for the night" Kamal replied trying much to hide his impatience

"You sure you get the money" the guard asked him and that instant Kamal could have bawled at him to leave him alone, but he dared not. So he replied calmly

"Yes sir" adding the sir to make the man feel respected and let him go and as foolish as it was, it worked

"Okay then go along, just try to stay out of trouble or you have yourself to blame," the guard said and Kamal replied with a nod of the head as he strode into the attendants. When he got into the large hall where the rooms were booked he stared around for a long while even when the attendants kept asking him what he wanted, at last, he turned to one of them, a frown was now on his face, this was because he couldn't spot the man from the Royce. He becked at the attendant to move closer and said to her 'Ma I need a room for the night, how much do your suites cost? She didn't reply to him, but instead passed to him a slip of printed paper which had suites prices on it, he looked at it for about sixteen seconds then said 'This one' with his index placed upon one of the options. The attendant said something to him and the next moment he had his debit card out of his wallet and handed it over to her and she did whatever it was she wanted to do with her POS machine.

"Come with me," she said and he followed right behind her as she led him to his room handing him the keys he said "Thanks" and they parted ways

In the room now, he realized why anyone who had ever been to the hotel deserved to be called a Legend. It had a lot of space and the walls were covered with a lot of bric-a-brac, making it look much like a museum except for the fact that museums don't have beds. He didn't stay much in to examine the other characters of the room, as now he was already out into the corridor heading toward the reception hall, he took no time noticing the things around him as his whole concentration was directed towards finding the man with the Royce. As he passed through the hall straight outside the hotel, there was the man already in his Royce and heading his whip out of the gate, and here was Kamal standing rooted and dumbfounded. With disappointment, he watched as the man moved out and made the reverse into the main coal stairway toward wherever he was going. Kamal passed his fingers gently through his hair thinking of what he could do, but then he started to blame himself ' I'm not even sure if he has anything to do with my dad", "Why did I even doubt Uncle Suleiman in the first instance"; and as the thoughts piled up upon ibe another he made up his mind to just go back in, pack up his things and go back to discuss the real deal with his uncle.

The reception hall was now much deserted as most of the inmates were already in their rooms and as he moved past it, the night clerks stared intently at him like they wanted to say 'What are you still doing out here' bad just as he started thinking about the sleepless some people had to endure all in the means of survival, someone called him from behind and just as he was turning to see who it was he stumbled against a man and whoever it was wasn't a gentleman at all as the man shouted "Bastard, are you drunk or what". Kamal said nothing in return he wasn't ready to get dirty by fighting a pig, he just kept moving toward who actually called him and in his mind he thought '' nearly all the men in Lagos are Mad". It was a lady and as he approached her, she said " I'm sorry for what happened, I didn't mean to make you inconvenient"

' It okay, I could have stumbled on him even if you hadn't called" Kamal replied calmly, then continued ' So what do you want?

" I'm alone in my room and bored, could you please just stay with me for the night" she replied and at this moment gave her stare, a very cold one and she need not to talk, he knew for himself that she felt uneasy

' I really wish I could stay with you, I really do, but then I don't even know you. You just came out of the blue and except me to sleep in your room with comfort. What if you're a psychopath and strangle me during my sleep or maybe you aren't but something happens to you during the night, who would belief me if I tell them you asked me to sleep over in your room? I will just simply explain with no evidence' He stopped to take a breath, marvelling at how well at how excellent he was expressing himself, the tone of his voice and the gestures all intact and accurate. But she didn't let him continue before she spoke

" I understand how this sounds, but you have nothing to worry about and besides if there is anyone who looks like a psychopath here it is you, with your gangster sort of dress' now she smiled trying not to make that part seem offensive and he understood, cuz deep inside her beautiful iris he could see pure innocence and holiness

"I pray things don't muddy. I will go after you" Kamal said. ' I guess that's a yes" she said and led the way towards her room. As she moved ahead of him, Kamal saw for himself the beauty he had failed to notice while he was questioning her. She was an ebony, not too much endowed behind,but her front stood pointed like the summit of Burj Khalifa and the way she carried herself, it was gracious; little steps like a child trying to sneak of a room without attracting the attention of its parents, on top of all this she had Siren eyes.Venustus she was and he thought her beauty ineffable, but what if with all that she had she was meretricious, or isn't it said that behind every beauty is a madness.He had tried much not to appear blushing while they were outside and even though he had succeeded he wasn't sure if he would be able to control himself much longer and just as he was getting prepared to man up, he stood suddenly in his tracks. The lady ahead of him having realized this turned back and asked "What's the problem? Are you okay?

"Yeah sure" he replied but anyone with a bit of common sense would know he wasn't, just then the lady continued her walk along the spacey corridor and he followed suit, while bringing out the photograph from his pocket. Now he realized that the man from the Royce was one of the people in the pic with his dad.