The Night At his Place - Duskwood

07 - The Bloomgate Problem

After the short, chilly ride, we arrived at the "seasonal" apartment, as Jake and I used to say.

The building was old, with several other apartments attached to each other. We climbed several steps before reaching his door. Jake passed the keys in one lock, then another. After that, he turned the handle at a very specific angle. 'Maybe something was stuck in the lock?' I thought. Then I concluded that this was just another discreet way to add an extra level of security to the door. I heard a soft click, and the door opened. A small hallway revealed itself. We left our shoes and coats there.

Beyond the hallway, I took a look at the almost empty apartment. Clearly, Jake hadn't made any effort to make the place feel like a "home." And there was no reason to. Less stuff to carry, in case he needed to disappear without a trace... It made me wonder why he had chosen to stay in a place like this instead of a hotel. My hopes that he had plans to stay for a while grew.

Jake stood next to me for a moment. Trying to disguise my thoughts, I said:

"You downplayed this pleace. I doubt it's that cheap. Actually, it's a nice apartment."

"Would you live in a place like this?" He asked casually.

That caught me totally off guard. I responded without thinking:

"I've lived in worse places."

"Hm." Jake nodded.

"But I'd definitely need more furniture. Why the question? Don't you like it here?"

To the left, there was the wall where a TV "should" have been, but instead there was a small rectangular coffee table with a pair of cushions. He placed his backpack on the floor, took out the heavy notebook, and placed it on the table.

"I wouldn't know. I've been to so many places... Both worse and better. I usually choose what's most practical." Jake said, already distracted by the notebook.

'Practical to escape,' I thought.

Looking to my right, the kitchen seemed much more "inhabited" than the living room. There were some dishes in the sink, a small pot on the stove, a few white cabinets above, holding the microwave. In the corner was the refrigerator. Near the kitchen, there was a closed door that I presumed led to his bedroom.

'His bedroom.' I felt my cheeks warm, thinking of his bed. 'Hold on, calm down a bit, there's nothing much with that.' I held my cheeks and looked around, hoping Jake wasn't looking at me.

To my surprise, he was already sitting on a cushion, typing on his notebook.

"Everything okay? It's going to be dawn soon..."

"I needed to check something," he said, not taking his eyes off the screen. Then, looking at me, he seemed to hesitate. "Do you see this number?" he asked, tn éapping the screen.

"12%? What about it?"

"It's the result of an algorithm. Nymos, among other things, informs me about the probability of Bloomgate finding me here, based on the spy program I planted in the DP system. The algorithm reads the information it obtained about us, up to the mine explosion. Then, it calculates the next steps he'll likely take. Besides, I fed Nymos with some false data mixed with true ones, so it can predict some situations. In short, when the percentage exceeds 20, I move. Below that, I stay a while longer. So, it seems we're okay for now."

"And how are you sure Bloomgate doesn't know about the spy?" I asked, as I sat on another cushion next to him.

"I never have 100% certainty. Especially because Bloomgate isn't the only one after me. Even with all these precautions, there's always a 50% chance that the police will show up knocking down my door, at any moment, anywhere."