A Tale of Two Brothers

Yesterday I finished reading ‘Life Is Beautiful’ by Alverin Hornland. The book said life is full of happiness and sadness, truth and lies. I was thinking about it the whole night, and also about my brother Hobert.

The next morning, I went to the gym. Hobert was doing exercises. He looked at me and asked, “Kevin, why did you come here?”

“To take you home. After exercise, rest is also important,” I said.

He laughed. “Ok, ok, professor. Let’s go.”

We stepped out. Suddenly, a black van screeched to a stop. Three men jumped out. They wore helmets and gloves, holding strange gadgets. Smoke sprayed from one device. I tried to hold Hobert, but they pushed him into the van. One of them hit me hard on the head. Everything went black.

When I woke up, Hobert was gone. A small note lay near me:

“We have your brother. Follow the instructions on your phone. Don’t call the police or he disappears forever.”

My phone buzzed. A new app appeared, blinking. I opened it.

“You have 24 hours. Follow the instructions. One mistake, your brother disappears forever.”

I panicked but ran. The app guided me everywhere in the city. The first clue led me to the library. A tiny drone flew ahead carrying a USB stick. Plugging it into my phone revealed a riddle: “I am everywhere but cannot be touched. I connect people. Find my home.”

I thought hard. Wi-Fi tower! I ran to the rooftop, found another USB hidden under the antenna. My phone buzzed: “15 minutes left for next step. Hurry!”

The next clue led me through narrow alleys. Drones hovered above, shining bright LEDs. Shadows moved. My phone buzzed: “Step closer. Courage is your key.” I stepped forward and found a glowing QR code behind some boxes. Scanning it revealed the next location: an old tea stall. I ran, heart hammering in my chest.

Then the app led me to an abandoned mall rooftop. Hundreds of drones patrolled the area. I had to jump between terraces. One drone flew close. I ducked, barely missing a spinning blade attached to it. My phone buzzed: “Hack the keypad. One wrong move, your brother disappears.”

I remembered Hobert’s locker number, our gym PIN, and my father’s birthday. Slowly, carefully, I typed. Click. A compartment opened. Video: Hobert is tied but smiling weakly. My legs trembled.

Finally, the app guided me to a huge abandoned factory at the edge of the city. Hundreds of drones hovered like angry bees. Machines blinked, red lights flashed. My phone said: “Final challenge: Solve the main code. One mistake, brother disappears. Timer: 1 hour.”

I saw the control panel with numbers, letters, and symbols. My mind raced. I remembered Hobert’s favourite football jersey number, the number of mango trees on our terrace, our first cricket match score… Slowly, carefully, I typed. Drones zoomed past my head. I ducked, sparks flew from broken wires, and I could feel my heart in my throat.

Click. The doors opened. I ran inside. Hobert was there! I hugged him so tightly my legs trembled.

One of the masked men stepped forward. “Well done. You succeeded because you have courage, quick thinking, and love. Technology tests the heart more than the brain.”

Hobert laughed. “Kev, you did it! I was getting bored waiting there.”

Father and mother appeared. They had been secretly tracking me using city cameras. Mother shook her head. “You boys, always learning lessons the hard way.”

I laughed, finally, my hands still shaking. My phone buzzed once more. The app had vanished. The warehouse was silent except for humming machines.

That night, I promised myself: next time, Hobert stays home. Life is not about money or rules. Sometimes, it’s about courage, brains, and love for your brother.