I was heading home from the university in the worst mood imaginable. Today had been far from the best day of my life. Exams scheduled in the middle of February, wet snow, dampness, lousy weather, issues at work, and a fight with my girlfriend—all of it was throwing me off balance. And to top it all off, the start of this year had been anything but easy. Call me superstitious or not, but I couldn’t believe so many troubles could pile up so suddenly and all at once.
My streak of bad luck began around New Year’s, specifically on New Year’s Eve. The power in my building went out unexpectedly, and armed with a screwdriver and a voltage tester, I grabbed a friend and headed into the hallway to see what was wrong. We often lost one of the three electrical phases, and switching to another phase meant reconnecting the wires manually. It had become a routine battle for electricity in the building. My neighbors on every floor did the same whenever the power cut out. The culprit was usually the circuit breaker for each phase, which couldn’t handle the load from water heaters, microwaves, kettles, and other appliances. So, the breaker would trip about once a week—always, of course, at the most inconvenient times. And this New Year’s Eve, it happened just ten minutes before midnight.
So, today, in the dark stairwell, lighting the way with my phone, we approached the distribution panel. Opening it, I realized I hadn’t checked it in a while since I’d been staying at my parents’ place for the last two weeks. It looked like some “genius” had tangled up all the wires. Amidst this chaos, under the dim light of my phone, I tried to find the wire leading to my apartment. While searching, I accidentally yanked out one of the twisted bundles, and the wires unraveled into a complete mess, impossible to sort out. I attempted to reconnect the first wire I could grab from the bundle, and that’s when it hit me—literally. A shock so strong that I was temporarily blinded for a few minutes.
When I came to, I saw my friend staring down at me in alarm while I sat on the floor.
“You okay? Feeling alright?” he asked, helping me up.
“Yeah, I think so,” I replied.
At that moment, the lights in the stairwell flickered back on. My friend’s worried expression turned into a grin, and then he burst into laughter—so loud it seemed to echo through the entire building. Confused about what was so funny, I started inspecting myself and discovered that my white shirt was full of holes, like a sieve. His laughter drew the other guests out of the apartment, who began asking what had happened.
While my friend laughed and explained, I finally got to my feet. And then, another incident occurred—one that should’ve been a hint that this year was going to be a rough one. There’s an old saying that goes something like, “How you ring in the New Year is how you’ll spend it!”
The guests stepping out of the apartment created a draft in the stairwell, with the balcony door, the vestibule, and the front door all open. As a result, the apartment door slammed shut, locking everyone out in the hallway.
“Well, folks, are we celebrating New Year’s right here in the corridor?” I quipped.
Inside the apartment was a fully set table, and there were just a few minutes left until midnight. My friend and I started working on the door. Of course, the keys were in my jacket inside, and all I had on me was a screwdriver. I tried using it at first, but to no avail. My dad and I had built that door to last, so kicking it down or unscrewing the lock wasn’t going to happen easily. Luckily, it had only latched shut, not locked. So, after about fifteen minutes, with the help of a neighbor’s knife and a bit of ingenuity, we managed to get it open. The celebration continued, and the rest of the night passed without any major mishaps.
The holidays came and went quickly, and January flew by in a blur. I’ve always thought January is the most eventful month of the year, which is why it seems to pass so fast with everyone traveling and celebrating. I had hoped things would settle down in February, but... The next incident happened at a Valentine’s Day party. We had invited a group of accounting students from a parallel course to celebrate with our group. As the person in charge of drinks and music, I was tasked with getting everything to the basement auditorium at the university. There was a storage room in the office (we’d borrowed the key from the lab assistant), where I needed to stash everything and lock it up. After storing the drinks, my friend Max and I went to his place—about seven blocks from the university—to pick up a boombox.
When we returned, we saw that my classmates had already set up the tables and laid out the modest snacks. You know how it is—student years are the time when hanging out with friends creates the most vivid memories. If you didn’t do it, you probably wasted that time. After setting the boombox on the table, I started digging through my pockets for the key but couldn’t find it. You should’ve seen the faces of the students, all hyped for the party, when they learned the door to the alcohol stash was locked. Thankfully, they didn’t chew me out.
Searching for a spare key with the already thoroughly drunk lab assistant led nowhere. Without much hesitation, we decided to break a small pane of glass on the door. Fortunately, it was a padlock, which allowed us to access the supplies without too much damage, and we replaced the glass the following week. The evening went pretty well overall: we ate, drank, and had a good time. The only hiccups were a few classmates who overdid it and a broken table that everyone had been taking pictures on.
The next day, a Friday, I dragged myself to work with a pounding headache. I was working at a gym back then, having been into bodybuilding for three years. Arriving at 9:00 AM, I grabbed a yogurt and a raisin bun with a clear conscience, then crashed on the couch in the trainer’s room for a nap. There weren’t many people in the gym, so I’d only be disturbed if absolutely necessary.
I was 22 at the time, about 5’11”, with a decent, sturdy build. I was into coin collecting, a good swimmer, handy with all sorts of useful (and useless) skills, an average student, but a solid worker. I could tinker with just about anything—my grandfather had taught me a lot growing up. He was well-known, often featured in the papers, and had a wide range of talents.
I was jolted awake by a persistent knock on the door. Quickly pulling myself together, I opened it to see a young guy, about twenty, wearing a uniform with some company logo on it.
“Good morning,” he said. “Can you tell me where to find Alex?”
“Good for some, maybe,” I grumbled. “What do you need him for?”
“I’ve got a package to deliver to him.”
“That changes things,” I replied, handing him my student ID.
The guy asked me to sign a receipt and handed over the box. I had a pretty good idea of what was inside. I’d ordered a metal detector a while back, hoping to expand my coin collection since prices on the numismatic market were way out of my budget.
Opening the box, I found an instruction manual, a VHS tape, two cases, a few coils, and the device itself, disassembled. I was over the moon. I’d been dreaming of this thing for ages, hoping it would help improve my financial situation and fill the gaps in my collection.
Assembling the device was straightforward. The tripod, coil, and power unit all connected easily. The only snag was the batteries—it needed eight, and I didn’t have any on hand, so I dashed to the store.
At that moment, I had no idea this device would be the start of a major change in my life.