bestfiction Chapter 177 Khalid
Chapter 177 Khalid
At four o'clock in the afternoon, the internet cafe was filled with noise.
The Quake LAN match is in its third round. Four computers are set up back-to-back, and the four players are wearing headphones, their bodies swaying slightly in sync with the movements on the screen.
Khalid sat on the far right. He wore a custom-made white robe, no headscarf, and his dark brown curly hair was neatly trimmed. But his fingers moved quickly across the keyboard, and the mouse almost never left the mousepad.
On the screen, his character jumps down from a high place, fires a rocket launcher, and blows up two enemies on the other side.
"Great!" shouted the player on the left in English, with a California accent.
Khalid didn't speak, a slight smile playing on his lips. He moved the mouse, the crosshair locking onto the last enemy, and clicked left. Shotgun bullets sprayed out, and the enemy fell.
A victory screen pops up.
He took off his headphones, leaned back in his chair, and let out a long breath.
"One more round?" the player on the left asked.
"Just a moment," Khalid said. He flipped the mouse over to look at the red dot on the bottom. He then touched the keycaps of the keyboard, feeling their slightly matte texture.
He stood up and walked to the counter.
"Where were these devices made?" he asked the receptionist.
"Our company designed it ourselves, and it's made in China."
"Where's the system?"
"It's also our own, the Star System."
Khalid nodded. He looked around the internet cafe: almost all fifty computers were full, most of them playing games, and a few browsing the internet. The air was filled with the smell of coffee and pizza, and the excited shouts of young people.
"Is the boss here?" he asked.
"Second floor office."
The staircase was made of steel. Khalid walked up it, his footsteps steady.
The door to the office on the second floor was open. Ling Yun was discussing something with Eric, and the server room wiring diagram was spread out on the table.
Khalid knocked on the door frame.
The two looked up.
"My name is Khalid Al Thani," he said in standard English with a slight British accent. "I played games downstairs for two hours."
"How was the experience?" Lingyun asked.
"The mouse is 30 percent faster than the one I used in London." Khalid walked in and sat naturally on the sofa. "The keyboard's key travel is well-designed, so it's not tiring to use for long periods. The system... is very stable; there was no lag or crashes during three hours of gaming."
"Thanks."
"I'm not here to thank you." Khalid pulled a business card from the inside pocket of his robe. The card was simple: white background, black lettering, just his name and a phone number. "I'm from Qatar, a Cambridge graduate, and now I work in technology investment."
Lingyun accepted the business card.
"I'd like to discuss a collaboration with you," Khalid said. "To open these internet cafes in Doha, Dubai, and Riyadh."
Eric looked at Ling Yun, whose expression remained unchanged.
"How exactly will we cooperate?" he asked.
"You're in charge of the technology," Khalid said. "Equipment, systems, game licensing, network architecture—all the technical aspects. I'll handle the operations: venues, licenses, localization, and marketing."
"Profit sharing?"
"Three for you, seven for me," Khalid said confidently.
Ling Yun remained silent for a few seconds.
"Are you aware that this model already exists in many places in China?" he asked.
“I know,” Khalid said, “but the Arab world doesn’t have that yet. Young people have the need and the spending power, but nowhere to go. Internet cafes are in poor condition and have outdated equipment. Yours…” He pointed downstairs, “is the future.”
"Can your background solve the license issue?"
"Yes," Khalid said. "Royal status can be useful in certain situations."
Ling Yun stood up and walked to the window. Cars were passing by on the street below, and several people who looked like programmers were sitting in the coffee shop across the street.
"I need to see a detailed business plan." He turned around. "Market research, site selection plan, investment budget, and expected returns."
"I'll give it to you in two weeks," Khalid said, standing up as well. "But I need you to answer one question first."
"What?"
"If I order one hundred sets of equipment—computers, monitors, keyboards, and mice—how long can you deliver them?"
"The computer needs to be assembled and the operating system needs to be pre-installed, which will take at least a week."
"What about the price?"
Ling Yun walked to the desk, opened the calculator, and pressed a few numbers.
"The complete package includes a 17-inch monitor, a Pentium II processor, 64MB of RAM, our keyboard and mouse, and the Starry Sky operating system pre-installed." He quoted a figure, "Two thousand two hundred dollars per package. One hundred packages would be two hundred and twenty thousand dollars."
Are there discounts for bulk purchases?
"10% discount for orders of 500 sets or more".
Khalid smiled. It was a faint smile, but his eyes gleamed.
"I'll order 300 units for the first phase," he said. "We'll open a computer store in Doha to test the waters. If it's successful, we'll expand throughout the Gulf region next year."
"Payment method?"
"30% payment upon contract signing, 40% payment before shipment, and the final payment upon successful inspection."
"Sure," Lingyun said, "but the system needs to be adapted for Arabic."
"I understand. I'll arrange for a translation team to work with your people."
The two shook hands. Khalid's hands were dry, and his grip was of moderate strength.
"There's one more detail," Khalid said. "Can the color of the mouse be customized? Gold, or with some patterns?"
Why?
"In the Arab world, gold represents nobility," Khalid said. "The standard version can be black, but the premium areas require some special designs."
"Yes, but the cost will increase."
"no problem."
The negotiations ended. Khalid went downstairs and returned to his seat. He looked around: the young people engrossed in their games, the flickering screens, the rapidly moving mice.
He took his phone out of his pocket—it was a Nokia, and quite large—and dialed a number.
"It's me," he said in Arabic. "I found what we were looking for in Silicon Valley...yes, games, computers, the whole experience...better than in London...the price is agreed upon, three hundred sets..."
The call lasted three minutes. After hanging up, he started another game.
This time he chose a sniper rifle. He crouched on high ground, aimed, held his breath, and pulled the trigger.
The enemy fell.
He looked at his hands, then at the mouse.
Then he laughed.
On the second floor, Lingyun and Eric looked down.
"Are you really going to do it?" Eric asked.
"Let's do it," Ling Yun said. "Nobody's touched the Middle East market before; it's an opportunity."
"The equipment needs to be shipped from China and then to the Middle East, which results in high logistics costs."
"So it's already included in the price."
"The system needs to be adapted to Arabic, including the right-to-left text layout and the time display format; these all need to be changed."
"You have your team do it," Ling Yun said. "This is a good opportunity to test our internationalization capabilities. Extract all the language-related strings and create language packs, allowing users to choose different languages. For other parts that require individual modification, create differential packs to generate individual user versions."
Eric nodded.
Downstairs, Khalid won another game. He stood up, walked towards the counter, and bought another mouse—this time for himself.
He put the mouse in his bag, paid, and left the internet cafe.
Before leaving, he looked back once.
The words "Spark Internet Cafe" on the glass door gleamed in the Silicon Valley sunset.