My Computer Lost My Stash!

Daniel Murphy lived in a world of logic, loops, and lines of code. As a software engineer at a mid-sized tech company, his days were spent debugging and optimizing systems for efficiency. By night, he indulged in a habit that, while legal in his state, he preferred to keep deeply private—using cannabis.

It wasn’t shame that drove his secrecy but a mix of professional paranoia and a touch of stubborn pride. To Daniel, admitting he used cannabis felt like risking his identity as a meticulous, razor-sharp problem solver. To reconcile his private habit with his public image, Daniel did what he did best—he wrote a program.

The software, dubbed CloakPot, was a masterwork of covert planning. By feeding the algorithm his daily schedule, the program cross-referenced the location of his stash with his routines, accounting for visitor habits, weather conditions, and even potential distractions. On days when he worked late, it suggested hiding places closer to the living room. On weekends, it recommended more obscure locations, like inside the hollow of an old desktop monitor he kept as decor.

The system worked flawlessly for months. No unexpected discoveries, no awkward questions, no raised eyebrows. Daniel lived in blissful, algorithmic certainty.

Until the visitor arrived.

It was a Saturday morning, and Daniel was midway through debugging a particularly frustrating piece of legacy code when the doorbell rang. He froze, staring at the door as if it were a virus about to infect his orderly existence.

“Hey, Danny!” chirped a voice as he opened the door. It was Emily, his younger sister, with an oversized duffel bag slung over her shoulder and a grin that radiated chaos. “Surprise!”

Emily was the opposite of Daniel—spontaneous, boisterous, and utterly unconcerned with routines. She’d been backpacking through Europe for the past six months, which Daniel had thought guaranteed at least six more months of peace.

“I thought you weren’t coming back until spring,” he said, trying to keep the edge out of his voice.

“Plans change! Figured I’d crash here for the weekend before heading to Mom and Dad’s,” she said, breezing past him into the apartment.

Daniel’s stomach tightened. CloakPot wasn’t designed to account for Emily. Her unpredictability was kryptonite to his carefully planned system. He glanced at his computer. Today’s stash location was displayed on the dashboard: kitchen cabinet, behind the rice cooker. Not exactly foolproof.

Emily’s presence was a tornado. Within minutes, she had unpacked half her bag across the living room and commandeered the kitchen to make what she called “world-famous hangover pancakes.” Daniel hovered awkwardly, his mind racing. He couldn’t retrieve the stash without drawing attention, and the idea of Emily stumbling across it made his palms sweat.

By the time she announced she was heading out to meet friends for coffee, Daniel was a ball of nerves. As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, he darted to the kitchen. He opened the cabinet and froze.

The rice cooker was gone.

Panicking, he scanned the room. He spotted it on the counter, wiped clean and plugged in. Beside it was Emily’s phone, charging. She hadn’t taken it with her.

“Crap,” Daniel muttered. He couldn’t risk searching further while she might walk back in at any moment. Resigned, he returned to his desk, trying to focus on work. But the thought of his misplaced stash gnawed at him like a bad loop.

Emily returned an hour later, her coffee outing morphing into an impromptu shopping trip. She dumped her bags on the floor and flopped onto the couch. “You’ll never guess who I ran into!” she began, launching into a story about an old high school friend.

Daniel nodded distractedly, his mind elsewhere. As she chattered, he covertly opened CloakPot on his laptop. Maybe there was a backup suggestion, an alternative spot he’d forgotten about.

But the algorithm wasn’t designed to handle contingencies. The dashboard blinked mockingly: Item Location: Kitchen cabinet, behind rice cooker.

“Daniel, are you even listening?” Emily said, narrowing her eyes.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said, let’s order sushi tonight. My treat.”

“Uh, sure,” he said, closing the program. He’d have to wait until she was asleep.

That night, Daniel crept out of his room. Emily was snoring softly on the couch, a quilt wrapped around her. The rice cooker was back in the cabinet, but the stash wasn’t behind it. He felt a pang of dread. Could she have found it? No, she’d have said something—or would she?

He began methodically searching the kitchen, checking every drawer and crevice. Nothing.

He expanded the search to other rooms, guided by CloakPot’s algorithm. Under the bed? No. Inside the hollow desktop monitor? Empty. In the bathroom cabinet? Still nothing. The system had failed him.

By morning, Daniel was running on caffeine and anxiety. Emily, oblivious, had made plans to meet their parents for brunch and offered him a ride. “You need to get out more,” she teased, nudging him toward the door.

As they left the apartment, Daniel’s mind raced. If he couldn’t find the stash, he’d have to rewrite CloakPot entirely, adding a module for chaotic variables like Emily. The thought was exhausting.

At brunch, Emily’s phone buzzed. She picked it up, frowned, then laughed. “Oh, I totally forgot! I found this baggie in the kitchen yesterday. I thought it was oregano at first, but—well, I’m not that clueless.”

Daniel’s stomach dropped. “What did you do with it?”

“I hid it in your toolbox in the closet. Figured you wouldn’t want it just lying around.”

He groaned inwardly. The toolbox wasn’t a valid hiding spot. It wasn’t in the algorithm.

“You’re welcome,” Emily said with a wink.

When they returned home, Daniel retrieved the stash from the toolbox. Relief washed over him, but it was quickly replaced by frustration. Emily had exposed a glaring flaw in his system: the human element. His algorithm was brilliant, but it couldn’t account for unpredictability, for the chaos of real life.

That evening, as Emily packed her bags, Daniel sat at his desk, rewriting CloakPot’s code. He added new variables—visitor patterns, erratic schedules, even randomization. The updated version wouldn’t rely solely on his routines but would anticipate disruptions, providing multiple backup locations.

As he worked, Emily leaned against the doorframe. “You know, you don’t have to be so secretive. It’s legal now. No one’s judging you.”

Daniel smiled faintly. “It’s not about judgment. It’s… about control.”

“Fair enough,” she said, tossing her duffel over her shoulder. “But sometimes, you’ve got to embrace a little chaos.”

After she left, Daniel tested the new version of CloakPot. The algorithm suggested a hiding spot he hadn’t considered before: inside the hollow desktop monitor. Primary stash. Secondary stash: toolbox. He smiled. Maybe a little chaos wasn’t so bad after all.