by Glen Robins
Off Chance
An Off Series Novella
By Glen Robins
www.glenrobinsbooks.com
Copyright 2021
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Before you Go
Chapter 1
Cambridge, Massachusetts
Freshman Year—Lukas Mueller
Lukas Mueller, the socially awkward math and science genius from Huntington Beach, California, felt ill-prepared for this. Even though this was the dream that had propelled him forward during his four years of high school. Even though this was everything he had worked and sacrificed and studied for since a wise and caring teacher at Edison High School pointed him in the right direction and instilled the belief in him. This was supposed to be his element and the springboard to the highlands of learning and academic achievement his heart and mind had hungered for.
The shy kid from Austria with the Germanic accent and piercing blue eyes normally felt at ease among his fellow nerds, scholars, and technophiles. These people spoke his language, shared his passion. Today, however, they had rendered him speechless. They had made his erudite mind seize up like an over-taxed circuit board. He had never felt this way before. It was a weird combination of being intellectually overwhelmed and giddy with excitement simultaneously.
It started with his arrival at the Corinthian-columned entrance to the school, where the campus tour began. Looking at the Parthenon-esque structure, the realization that he had “made it” dawned within him. Eager anticipation morphed into information intake mode which then began a slow roll into a mental feeding frenzy where nervous energy met a sudden lack of self-belief. He wanted to absorb every last ounce of knowledge available, but quickly realized there was just too much of it. Nervous energy got his mind spinning as he wondered how he could get the most out of his experience on campus. Suddenly, four years didn’t seem like enough time to learn everything he wanted to learn.
But then the dark side took over and doubts crept in.
It was a strange feeling; one completely new to him. Lukas wondered if he was good enough to be there. There were so many smart and accomplished people who were there to learn and to make their mark on the world. How could he compete? How could he stand out?
By the end of the first day of freshman orientation, Lukas needed to reboot his brain by disconnecting the power. The only thing he could think of to do was take a nap before dinner. Something he picked up from his dad growing up.
As he lay down on his bed among suitcases and boxes stacked neatly in his private dorm room, he mused about the immensity of the challenge before him. He knew he was bright, responsible, and dedicated. That helped quell the dissonant waves of doubt and fear. Thoughts of Mr. Meeks, his computer science teacher back at Edison High, and his praises of Lukas’s innate grasp of all things technical, brought the electric current running through his circuitry back to a manageable level. Mr. Meeks was no pushover. His reputation as one of the toughest teachers in the school had been meticulously cultivated over a decade-long career to that point. Earning his praise was indeed a rare honor. That thought brought Lukas comfort.
The second memory that calmed his nerves was his first day in an American middle school six years earlier. That day Lukas felt even more out-of-sorts than he did entering MIT. As a new arrival in the United States, suddenly immersed in a foreign language and culture, twelve-year-old Lukas was ready to cry when some of the kids pointed and laughed at him during Mrs. Keller’s introduction in first period. Many of the kids in the class derided him for what he wore. American style was much different than European fashion and the kids in his homeroom let him know it with jeers and whispered ridicule. It seemed in that moment that life in his new country was going to be a living hell. He wanted to cry or, better yet, shrink to the size of an ant and scurry out of there as quickly as he could.
However, things took a dramatic turn a few seconds after the giggles erupted. That was the moment something truly remarkable happened that brought his world back into its proper orbit and changed his outlook and his life profoundly. A bold young man, unimpressive in stature, though handsome and self-assured, stood up from the back of the room and walked toward him. Standing face-to-face with Lukas, this boy smiled warmly and extended his hand. As they shook hands before the entire class, the mocking and snickering halted. Another boy jumped out of his seat and did the same thing. Those two boys, Collin Cook and Rob Howell, earned Lukas’s utmost respect, gratitude, and loyalty with that one simple gesture.
These two and their friendship helped broaden Lukas’s horizons on many fronts. He became the most well-like nerd in the school and, as far as he knew, was the only 4.0 student who knew how to surf, thanks to Collin’s and Rob’s expert tutelage and patient insistence.
A contented smile spread across Lukas’s face as he closed his eyes while the memory soothed him like a warm blanket. Despite the enormity of his new adventure that settled into his psyche, his normal calm returned. He had survived middle school; he could survive MIT.
He just needed a nap to overcome the early jitters.
Before he dozed off, he shot out a text to his two best friends. “Made it. Been here two hours and my mind is blown, but can’t wait to get started.”
Collin wrote back first. “Don’t even stress about it, dude. You got this.”
A few minutes later Rob chimed in. “MIT is about to get its mind blown. Just do your thing and you’ll blow ‘em all away.”
Lukas turned off his phone so he could also turn off his brain. Hearing from his friends and knowing they believed in him meant the world, allowing his mind to drift into a dream state.
Twenty minutes into his nap, he woke with a start. A roar in the hallway grew louder and the floor shook as if a herd of pachyderms was rumbling toward him. Then there was banging on his door, and whelps of excited invitation to join in. Disoriented, Lukas bolted out of bed, tripping on a suitcase, and answered the door. No one was there, but a cluster of male students bopped up and down as they roved further down the corridor. They had taped a bright yellow paper to his door. It was an announcement about pledge week. A list including fraternities with Greek names was followed by a handful of social clubs who also vied for patronage. These clubs, Lukas deemed, would be more sedate than the frats who were so notorious.
Rush week would commence in three days. That provided Lukas enough time to research and decide which club or fraternity best matched his goals and ambitions. He had heard so about Rush Week and now it was here, it was happening. Another part of his college dream coming true.
Chapter Two
Massachusetts Institute of Technology
Freshman Year
The dorm was on fire. Not literally, but there was so much commotion and running around and yelping, Lukas wondered if it was as he approached the main entrance just after di
nnertime.
The scene was pandemonium. Rush week was in full swing and it was only the second night. It was going to be an interesting and full week.
Freshman, egged on by fraternity whips, whooped and hollered as they raced up and down the hallways, clapping their hands, banging on doors, proclaiming as loudly as they could their fraternity or sorority of choice to be “the one” to join.
Their tactics seemed to be working, as even the shiest of kids were cracking their doors open and gawking in rapt fascination at the chaotic call to action. Many of the dorm dwellers seemed to be caught up in the hoopla, dancing and hopping up and down as raucous music thumped from some unseen set of speakers. The scene seemed part sales pitch as each excited kid tried to convince others to do what he or she was doing and part self-convincing since no one really knew what they were getting themselves into.
Although it seemed bizarre at first, Lukas soon found himself caught up in the unfolding mayhem and excitement for a short time.
Then he recalled that he had planned and prepared for this, thanks to his high school computer science teacher.
Even before entering college, Lukas had given some thought to extracurricular activities and wondered which of these organizations he should join. After careful consideration, he had come to view clubs or fraternities in a very simple way: they were just a means to build one’s social network, for either personal or professional reasons—or, perhaps, both. One choice was to go party with the frat boys as a way to curry the favor of alumni in powerful positions who could help with career aspirations in the future. If a fraternity brother were to spot your affiliation on your resume, your chances of being hired increased dramatically. That was the prevailing wisdom.
The other choice? Attempt to involve yourself in some sort of socially conscious service and develop relationships with like-minded individuals and hope that blossomed into something to boost one’s resume. There were stories about people who got off to good starts in their chosen professions that way and found success because of their involvement in a college club. Very few of those testimonials came from anyone involved in technology. This provided some level of angst for young Lukas, but he decided he would let his abilities speak for themselves. Although perhaps more of a crap shoot in terms of resume points, the social club option, to him, seemed like a better use of his time and talent and would do more to showcase his true self.
Many of the off-campus clubs had stated principles that sounded worthy of consideration. However, upon attending an event or two, he realized the lip service to ideals did not always translate to action. It became apparent that even some of the social clubs were just a front for partying, like so many of the fraternities, and he had no interest in participating in their humiliating rituals of initiation, or consuming insane amounts of alcohol just to be considered worthy of membership. After seeing firsthand what these groups were all about, Lukas remained decidedly aloof.
Many of his fellow freshman pressured him to join the club or fraternity they were pledging, but Lukas refused to cave.
Instead, he accepted an invitation to a meeting off campus. One of his new friends in his programming class, a quiet but humorous Asian kid, had been invited to join a newly formed club, one that sounded pretty cool to him. The Teacher’s Assistant in their programming class was one of the officers. The TA seemed like a bright and charismatic guy. The friend’s invitation was sincere and intent. It was hard to refuse. The cool thing about this club, he said, was that their mission was to leverage the power of innovation to improve the lives of the indigent in Third World countries. They were going to actually design and build a piece of high-tech equipment that could help people in poor countries who had little or no access to the wonders of modern-day technology.
That sounded worthwhile and kind of fun, so Lukas agreed to attend the inaugural meeting. Finally, he thought, an organization that wants to actually do something for someone else using the skills and tools we’re developing here at MIT.
Lukas hoped this club would bring a measure of fulfillment the others had so far not delivered. He really wanted to use his time and talents wisely and was growing tired of Pledge Week and its nonsense. This meeting, if it didn’t go well, would be the last of its kind he would attend.
Chapter Three
A Garage Three Blocks West of Campus, 8:00 p.m.
Freshman Year
“Come to order,” the man standing at the head of the long wooden table surrounded by folding chairs said. He had a British accent and spoke with that certain confidence and elegance of royalty. He was sharply dressed and carried himself with a poise that belied his youthful face. His eyes blazed with intensity as he scanned the meager group. There were only six other people in attendance apart from Lukas and David, his Asian friend from class. Another Asian upper classman was seated behind and to the right of the speaker. The pretty and demur Teacher’s Aide from their class sat opposite him, behind and to the left of the speaker. She was an Asian girl that Lukas guessed to be three years his senior. They were apparently the officers of the club. There were four rows of chairs set up with eight chairs per row, four on each side of the aisle. Scattered amongst those sixteen chairs were three other kids apart from Lukas and David. Lukas was the only white person in the dimly lit, musty-smelling garage. Looking at the other assembled nerds, Lukas noted that one was Indian, one looked to be Middle Eastern, and the third was another Asian.
The garage floor was covered with a rectangular piece of well-worn carpet, frayed at the edges and adorned with a smattering of stains—probably a remnant from the last remodel of the tiny house next to it twenty years ago. The table that held the lecturn where the speaker stood was a relic from the sixties, he guessed, and the folding chairs that filled the room were a mismatched collection from a bygone age. They were likely purchased one or two at a time from garage sales. A handful of colorful posters advertising rock concerts from the seventies and eighties spanned the two-by-four studs of the unfinished interior walls.
Everything about the setting smacked of low budget. Everything, that is, but its leadership. The three upperclassmen at the head of the table did not match their surroundings—at all. The woman wore Jimmy Chu pumps, for example. Mr. Penh, the speaker, had a Rolex on his wrist. The Vice President, introduced as Mr. Fung, had the latest Mac Book poised on his lap.
“We welcome you to this, the inaugural meeting of the Bring I-T Club. We’re so glad you have decided to join us. The goal of our organization is to leverage the brainpower in this room and on this campus to bring Information Technology solutions to an overlooked and underserved segment of the world’s population.” As he spoke, he gestured with his hands open and his arms stretched out to the two seated behind him. “We want to bring the benefits of technology to the many poor families in our home country who could use what we plan to invent and develop here in this club to improve their lives.” He moved his right hand to the table, but kept his left hand pointing toward the lovely girl behind him. She seemed uncomfortable with the attention and lowered her face as he spoke.
“You see,” he continued. “We come from southwest Cambodia, a region stricken with poverty, starvation, disease, and corruption. We need your help to lift the people there out of their current situation and set them up for a better future. We believe in a hand up, not a handout.” He paused for effect, so the five pledges took the cue and clapped. It was half-hearted and awkward. They glanced at each other and shrugged as they did so. The speaker, Mr. Penh, seemed to believe he was performing for a larger audience.
His address went on for another five minutes before he gave the other two officers an opportunity to introduce themselves and share their vision for the club and outline the project they had in mind.
The project introduced at the first meeting was simple enough to instill belief in the possibility of its completion, but grand enough to require the best efforts of each of the eight members present. Once completed it could be shipped and set up in the
tiny village where Penh was raised and provide an on-ramp to the information super-highway that had to that point been largely inaccessible to the farmers and merchants scratching out a meager existence from the land with nothing more than their hands and their antiquated farm implements.
The concept was brilliant: a portable, self-sustained and life-sustaining IT kiosk. It would be solar powered, satellite connected, internet enabled, and user friendly. The kiosk could be rolled on wheels behind a bicycle, like a rickshaw. Waterproof material would be used to keep it safe during the frequent downpours. It could be boarded and locked each night before being wheeled back to the owner’s home. This mobile cart would be complete with a server, three monitors and keyboards, and three power strips to charge six mobile phones each simultaneously.
This single unit would provide access to the internet for the first time for this remote village. Digital access would allow them to buy and sell goods and services, to learn new things, to connect to people around the world. It would become a lifeline of prosperity and would pave the way for more cell phones to connect the village to the outside world. At the same time, it would provide electricity to keep their devices charged up so they could conduct their business without the usual interruptions and delays caused by dead batteries. No more missed opportunities. No more isolation. No more being cut off from the progress enjoyed by most of the rest of the world.
The kiosk they were to build would provide a business opportunity to the recipient, who was to be chosen from a pool of qualified entrants. He or she, then, would have the chance to set up other franchisees with similar kiosks in other locations. Simple, yet revolutionary.
Lukas, David, and the other freshmen were “in.” They signed up not only to join the club, but to participate in fundraising, as well as to accept assignments to design and build this thing. The five new recruits left the meeting enthused and uplifted. A lofty goal and dream lay before them and all it would take to accomplish it was brainpower, energy, and personal dedication. Each felt a deep sense of satisfaction and commitment.
