*Track 22 (continued)
While Stuart’s comprehensive Factory audit may have taken a while to complete, he felt the effort had been worthwhile. He had uncovered a plethora of interesting background information (though he suspected Anne might dispute that choice of adjective), and while they had unarguably missed opportunities at times, if you worked to a just-in-time principle none of that really mattered now.
Re-reviewing all that research had at least eaten up another hour of his seemingly interminable, sword of Damocles threatened wait. None of it helped much with the task that lay ahead perhaps, but its reminder that every detail (the story behind each ‘Challenge’) had collectively reinforced their initial ‘solution’ did make Stuart feel a little better, if not nearly enough to untie the Gordian knot in his stomach. To get this far only to fall at the final hurdle would be an almost unbearable anti-climax.
Anne had tried lightening his load earlier by suggesting, “it must be even worse for Joe, Ed, and Charlie, all they can do is wait for us to message them with the outcome.”
But there had been no avoiding the obvious insinuation lying within her comment. However much this had latterly become a team game, however grateful Stuart was for the others’ invaluable input, just after 10am this morning (back once more to BST), if events unfolded unfavourably, it would be him alone, to paraphrase ABBA’s immortal words, who would be the one left standing smallest.
The initial euphoria of uncovering ‘Challenge 69’s FAC numbers key, particularly in the way it had seemed to magically appear from the ether, had lasted for a few days. Stuart was still proud of the way they finally cracked the code, impressed by the persistence they had shown, but over the two weeks since a cold harsh reality had set in. Simply knowing the right answer delivered nothing on its own.
A dozen ‘Challengers’ remained, and Stuart knew, from the speed they had answered earlier ‘Challenges’, that at least two had rumbled Wilson’s shenanigans much sooner. A minimum of three (up to a maximum of twelve) had therefore arrived at Judgement Day with their verdict already to hand, and if Stuart’s long held belief was correct, if today’s final clue was no more complicated than, “tell us the answer,” then it would now come down to a contest as to how quickly each could react. A year and a half of convoluted quizzing had been reduced, as if ‘Who Wants to Be a Millionaire’ had been reverse engineered, into one single high stakes game of, “fastest finger first.”
Their ‘Challenge’ collective had convened a couple more video calls over the last fortnight to talk tactics, to try to hatch a plan for optimising their chance of success, but to little avail. Joe had livened up one of these meetings by suggesting Stuart should search the dark web, to employ a hacker who, in turn, could track down their eleven competitors and block their access to the ‘Challenge 69’ site. That boy watched far too many sci-fi films!
Back in the real world though, there was no escaping this would all now come down to speed. Under Joe’s poker analogy, it was no longer enough to go all in, that was a given, today would come down to who could shove all their chips onto the table first.
Stuart had kept his pre-prepared answer short and sweet, subconsciously perhaps hoping that fewer words might transmit quicker. It simply read, “each Challenge solution is a word/phrase from its respective Factory Records (FAC number) catalogue entry.” This had been copied, and double-checked, multiple times, and was ready to be pasted and entered the instant today’s ‘Challenge’ (number 69 presumably) went live.
The unavoidable deadline finally arrived and, as prepared as he could ever be for instantaneous action, Stuart logged on with military precision timekeeping:
The human mind has an astounding capacity to operate with electrifying speed (one he could only hope to emulate with his much-practiced mouse mechanics). In the milliseconds it took Stuart to paste his prepared answer in the solution box, and click enter, he was still able to process three new thoughts:
Another new font, I wasn’t expecting that,
Wilson couldn’t resist two more, slightly ludicrous, anagrams, nor one final musical reference, and,
These anagrams really weren’t that hard to solve. As he had long anticipated, Tony simply wanted to know, “what’s it all about?”
The process went by in a blur. Stuart (with Anne observing over his shoulder) understood, after eighteen months of effort, that everything had been distilled down to this one final, fateful press of the ‘Challenge’ Enter button. Experience told him the outcome, good or bad, triumphant or sorrowful, would then appear on screen instantaneously.
The next thing he knew, Stuart, who despite his musical infatuation never sang (he simply didn’t have the voice for it), found himself unwittingly belting out Cilla’s opening line from ‘Alfie’ to Anne as they danced around his office room, another first!
Calmed, eventually, by self-consciousness, they both looked back to the screen to ensure they had read its message correctly, to make certain it hadn’t just been some form of mutual mirage:
###
(‘Challenge 69’s final ‘Track’ will follow on 5th August at 10am. In the meantime, it’s great to get reader feedback, so please add a comment below with any thoughts on ‘Track 22’)