Kotto, six oh two. The city still slept under a pearl grey sky. Agent Kom turned the crank of the copper grinder, Ngang beans between his fingers. Double extraction, fine grind, almost dust. This morning the bitterness had to bite.

Nadia pushed the cafe door open, scarf still damp with dew. She set yesterday's envelope on the counter.

"You didn't open it last night."

"Last night, sister, I needed to sleep before I could understand."

He poured the water, watched the black thread descend into the cup. First sip. The bitterness climbed to his temples, sharp and clean.

Inside the envelope, a printed sheet. Source code fragment. An address: Akademgorodok, Novosibirsk. The CSATA's encrypted phone vibrated at the same moment. Director Mballa.

"Kom, a Russian AI, KOSCHEI, has been signing interbank orders for three days. No one authorised her. She generates her own keys."

Kom scrolled through the code. Euclidean lattice reduction. Strange variant. Familiar. Too familiar. His rejected paper, Kazan journal, winter 2017, buried.

"Nadia, this ting no be coincidence, na so e be."

She leaned over his shoulder. A comment line, neat Cyrillic. She translated softly: await the father of the equation.

The cup trembled, imperceptibly.

Want to know who in Novosibirsk has been waiting eight years for the father of the equation? Write me on Messenger, I'll pour you a Ngang and tell you. ☕