Wafula woke up that Monday morning with a splitting headache and a peculiar feeling in his gut, as if the universe had just handed him a secret but had forgotten to explain the instructions. The noise of Nairobi's rush hour seeped into his tiny room, and he groaned as he swung his legs off the bed. "Another day, another hustle," he muttered.
Wafula wasn't your average construction worker. He was, to put it mildly, a fraud. Assigned as a plumbing supervisor at a 30-floor residential project in Nairobi, he had zero experience in plumbing—or supervision, for that matter. He had landed the job through the "time-honored" Nairobi tradition of dubious connections and forged credentials. But as he often told himself, "Man must eat."
By 7:00 a.m., he was at the construction site. The building was barely in its infancy, with the third basement still being reinforced. Workers in bright yellow helmets bustled about, hauling cement and steel bars. Wafula, in his oversized helmet and high-visibility vest, strolled around with a clipboard he didn't know how to use. His job was simple: look busy, bark instructions, and hope nobody noticed his incompetence.
"Boss, we're ready to fix the main water pipe!" shouted Otis, a wiry young plumber with a perpetual smirk on his face.
"Uh…yes, yes. Good. Let me check it first," Wafula replied, trying to sound authoritative. He climbed the ladder to inspect the pipework. His palms were already sweaty, and he cursed under his breath. Why had he said yes to supervising plumbing of all things? He knew nothing about pipes except that water came out of them.
As he fiddled awkwardly with a wrench, trying to attach a pipe to a valve, his foot slipped. In a comical slow-motion moment, Wafula flailed his arms, trying to grab something—anything—to stop his fall. Instead, he tumbled down with a loud thud, landing on a pile of sandbags.
The workers surrounded him, concern etched on their faces, though most of them were clearly fighting back laughter.
"Boss, are you okay?" Otis asked, his lips twitching with suppressed amusement.
Wafula opened his mouth to respond, but the world around him suddenly faded into a blinding white void.
He blinked, confused. He wasn't in Nairobi anymore—or anywhere, really. He was standing in a vast, empty white space. In front of him was…himself? Or rather, a glowing, holographic version of himself, tinkering with the same pipe he had just fallen from.
"What is this?" Wafula whispered, his voice echoing in the void.
The imitation Wafula silently worked, trying different ways to fix the pipe. First, it tightened the valve incorrectly, causing water to spray everywhere. Then, it overused Teflon tape, creating a blockage. Finally, after several tries, it found the perfect solution aligning the pipe at a specific angle and securing it with just the right amount of torque.
As Wafula watched, something clicked in his mind. He wasn't just seeing solutions, he was absorbing them. Every move, every calculation was imprinted in his memory.
And just like that, he snapped back to reality.
"Boss! Boss! Are you with us?" Otis waved a hand in front of Wafula's face.
Wafula shook his head, realizing he was back at the construction site. The workers were still gathered around, some now openly chuckling.
"I'm fine," he said, brushing sand off his vest. "Just...thinking about the best way to fix that pipe."
Otis raised an eyebrow. "You fell like a sack of cement, and you're thinking about pipes?"
Ignoring the comment, Wafula climbed the ladder again. This time, his hands moved with surprising confidence. He aligned the pipe perfectly, tightened the valve to just the right degree, and stepped back to admire his work.
The workers stared at him, dumbfounded.
"Boss…you actually did it?" Otis said, genuinely impressed.
"Of course," Wafula replied, trying to mask his own surprise. "I was just testing you all earlier."
The workers exchanged skeptical glances but said nothing.
As the day progressed, Wafula couldn't stop thinking about what had happened in that white void. It was as if he had a cheat code in his mind, a system designed to solve problems he had no business solving. He tested it again during lunch break. Closing his eyes, he thought about the blueprint he had been given that morning. Sure enough, the void appeared, and the glowing version of himself was there, reviewing the plans, pointing out errors, and suggesting improvements.
When he snapped out of it, he grabbed a pen and made corrections on the blueprint.
"Boss, you know how to read those?" asked Kimani, the foreman, as he passed by.
Wafula cleared his throat. "Of course. What do you take me for?"
Kimani shrugged and walked off, but Wafula could feel the eyes of the other workers on him.
By the end of the day, Wafula had successfully supervised the installation of several plumbing systems, much to the astonishment of the crew. But word of his earlier fall had spread, and he couldn't walk two steps without someone snickering or whispering behind his back.
As he packed up his things, Otis approached him.
"Boss, I have to admit, I didn't think you knew anything about plumbing. But today…you surprised me," he said, grinning.
Wafula chuckled nervously. "You know what they say, Otis. Never judge a book by its cover."
As he walked away, Wafula felt a mix of pride and unease. The system in his mind was a blessing, no doubt, but it also felt…unnatural. What if someone found out? What if it disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared?
He glanced back at the construction site, now bathed in the golden glow of sunset. The building was only at its third basement, but he could already feel the weight of the 30 floors it was destined to become.
"Thirty floors," he muttered. "And I have no idea what I'm doing."
But for the first time in his life, Wafula felt like he had a fighting chance.