LOST is an original Lapatutu fiction following Henry’s life journey. All characters, locations, and events in this work are fictional; any resemblance to real entities is entirely coincidental. [Click here if you missed Part 4]
While in his final year of university, a new sound began to permeate the digital landscape, quickly captivating the youth: A-Z FM.
Unlike traditional radio stations that broadcast over physical airwaves, A-Z FM was an online-only radio station. It streamed its content exclusively through the internet, accessible via computers and, increasingly, the burgeoning number of smartphones. In the early 2010s, this was a revolutionary concept, offering a level of portability and uninterrupted signal that traditional broadcasters couldn’t easily match.
This unique aspect immediately positioned A-Z FM in a league of its own, making it instantly popular among the tech-savvy university demographic. It became a symbol of the urban cool, a station that truly understood the pulse of the youth.
To launch their initial promotional activations, the A-Z FM marketing team embarked on an aggressive campus tour, choosing Imani College as one of their primary stops. When they rolled onto the college field to set up a massive music extravaganza, the entire campus came to a standstill.
The setup was unlike anything Henry had ever seen in real life: a massive stage with dazzling lights, a state-of-the-art DJ booth dominating the center, and large LED screens on either side of the stage continuously flashing the A-Z FM logo alongside other dynamic graphics. Freshly imported from Japan, this setup was the first of its kind in the country. On some of the equipment, you could still see the clear polythene wrapping of brand-newness.
As night fell, a massive crowd of students flooded the field, and the evening kicked off with electrifying performances from some of the country’s top artists. While the general razzmatazz created a loud buzz across campus, Henry’s attention remained largely unmoved by the music. What truly captivated him was when the MC took the mic and announced:
“Ladies and gentlemen, turn your eyes to the screens. The CEO has arrived!”
As Henry looked at the massive screens, the display switched to a live video feed capturing the dramatic arrival of the CEO’s convoy from the university gate all the way to the field.
The first car that came into view was a sleek, black Mercedes-Benz C-Class. Its hazard lights pulsed rhythmically—a deliberate, slow flash that announced its presence with power. Behind it came another marvel: a Mercedes-Benz E-Class, its grey finish shimmering under the night lights.
Following closely was the third vehicle, a white Toyota Land Cruiser Prado VX with a personalized license plate boldly reading MWIBETU.
This carefully curated statement of wealth, influence, and untouchable status—the greatest Henry had ever seen up close—was what truly captured his attention that evening.
As the cars rolled to a stop on the college field, figures emerged from the first two Mercedes vehicles. Men in sharp black-and-white suits and ties, their ears discreetly fitted with earpieces like those Henry had seen in FBI movies, quickly converged around the white Prado.
They stood side by side as one man opened the rear left door, revealing a stunning lady in a stunning gold, body-hugging dress.
Then, another man opened the rear right door, and out stepped a commanding figure looking to be in his late fifties. He was dressed in the most outstanding outfit Henry had ever seen: a dark blue suede suit. As he began to move, the security detail seamlessly surrounded him, forming an impenetrable human shield.
The gorgeous woman, unmistakably younger, followed closely behind him.
Without any prompting, the entire audience rose to their feet as a spontaneous wave of shouts and applause swept through the field. The students didn’t need to be asked to clap; they clapped because what they were seeing was truly worthy of clapping. As Henry watched this unfold, first on the large screens and then with his own eyes, he felt like he was in the presence of an immortal.
The man majestically walked up to the stage, taking his time to absorb the admiration before standing at the microphone. He waited just a few seconds, and the crowd fell quiet. It was fascinating how thousands of cheering students moved from a deafening roar to total silence in a matter of seconds—not minutes, but seconds. What manner of man is this? Henry thought to himself.
“My name is Edmond Mwibetu,” he announced, his voice smooth and commanding. “This is my third wife, Dorcas Mwibetu. I am the CEO of A-Z FM. I want it to reach every young person, not just here, but across the entire world! In fact, I want our signal to reach outer space! How far is that? Anybody know?”
A few giggles spread through the student audience, finding the question more amusing than answerable.
But for Henry, this wasn’t a joke; it was an opportunity to get closer to the recognition he craved. A hunger to be acknowledged by a man who embodied the power he so desperately coveted surged through him. His hand shot into the air—a public declaration that he knew the answer, backed by the audacity to seize the moment.
Edmond Mwibetu spotted the raised hand.
“Well, well, it seems someone here is a rocket scientist,” he said. “Alright, don’t just stand there with your hand up. Come on up to the stage and tell us.”
Every eye turned to Henry as he walked toward the stage with absolute confidence. He knew enough about space and radio waves to answer the CEO’s question with precision, but that wasn’t his main focus. Henry wanted to capture Edmond Mwibetu’s attention, and he knew this was his only chance.
Reaching the stage, Henry locked eyes with the CEO. “Mr. Edmond Mwibetu, if I may,” he began, “that is not just a question, but a truly visionary ambition—one that clearly embodies the spirit of A-Z FM. To even think about sending a signal to outer space is the kind of bold thinking that changes the world. You are surely an exceptional visionary!”
A slow, satisfied smile appeared on Edmond’s face. Compliments, especially those delivered with such eloquent conviction, had a way of getting to him.
Henry, sensing the shift in the CEO’s demeanor, confidently continued. “And to answer your excellent question, Sir: for a radio signal to escape Earth’s atmosphere and reach outer space without being reflected back, it needs to pass through the ionosphere. That layer starts roughly sixty kilometers up. Our radio signals, being higher frequency, are designed to penetrate it and travel onward. So, the moment the signal passes that ionospheric boundary, it’s effectively on its way to the stars!”
In truth, Edmond Mwibetu hadn’t really understood Henry’s technical answer, nor had most of the students, which explained the momentary silence that followed. Besides, Henry was actually talking about traditional radio waves, not online streaming. But in that moment, what truly resonated with Edmond was not the science—it was the raw hunger for recognition blazing in Henry’s eyes.
“What is your name?” Edmond’s voice cut through the lingering silence.
“Henry Zamunda, Sir. I’m in my final year.”
Edmond’s initial smile softened as his gaze locked intensely onto Henry’s. The look seemed to last an eternity. The entire show, the pulsating music, the crowd of students—everything seemed to hold its breath under the gravity of the moment.
Then, Edmond’s voice cut through the silence, packed with undeniable authority:
“On the day you graduate, that very same day, come to the A-Z FM offices. I have given you a job as a Sales Executive. Any boy who can convince a man like me deserves a seat at my table. My team will send you the contract next week!”
Henry has made history as the first student at Imani to get a job—not an internship—while still studying. Next week, we explore how this moment affects his final year.
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