The 27-year-old computer technician is a speedcuber. Hand him a scrambled one, and he'll have the colors back in order in less than 30 seconds.
He'll take along his customized cube, the one with his name on a sticker in the center. He'll lubricate it with silicone spray for smoother turning. He'll practice, but not too much. Nobody wants to go into a contest with the overuse injury known as Rubik's Wrist.
Zamora enjoys the surge of adrenaline that comes from competing, and he likes the camaraderie, which is all well and good. "I'm not really very fast," he said.
At a recent contest at the California Institute of Technology, in Pasadena Zamora solved the cube five times, averaging about 25 seconds. For those of us who couldn't solve it in 25 years, that's an astounding performance. But it was only good enough for 26th place.
Even if he had matched his personal best - an average of 21.11 seconds - he would have finished 20th. Just the top 16 made it to the next round.
The winner was Ryan Patricio, 18, of Temecula, Calif., the reigning U.S. Open champion. He averaged 14.62 seconds in the first round, hit 13.55 in the second round (a new North American record), and then beat that with a 13.47 in the finals.
"Oh, man, I love the competition," said Patricio, a high school student. "It's addictive, like nicotine."
All was not lost for Zamora. The popularity of speedcubing has led to multiple events. Players also compete to see who can solve it the fastest one-handed. They go at it with advanced versions of the cube (rows of four or five squares instead of the traditional three).
Zamora set a personal best in another of the events, jumping up and down with excitement after he solved the cube in just over 3 minutes - while blindfolded.
Yes, blindfolded.
Zamora and Patricio were joined by about 50 competitors - several of them current or former world-record holders - who traveled from as far away as Colorado and Idaho.
"We all know each other," Zamora said. Those he hadn't met, he recognized from the Internet, where players regularly share videos and strategy. The sense of community is one of the things many like about speedcubing.
They gathered at Caltech in a room above the bookstore. Climbing the stairs, you heard them before you saw them. They were working their cubes: click-click-click-click.
The group was overwhelmingly male, mostly in their teens and 20s, and heavily Asian. One wore a T-shirt that said, "Math Is My Friend." But stereotypes died quickly: Not a pocket-protector in sight. A few of the players would fit right in at a heavy metal concert.
Tyler Albright, 20, a San Diego State University philosophy major, said it's not necessary to be good at math to master the cube. Practice and memorization are more important, he said.
Many players use the "Fridrich Method," a complicated series of moves invented and named after an engineering professor in New York. "Remembering the algorithms, that's the key," said Phillip Espinoza, 18, a University of California San Diego music student.
Very few of the contestants were alive when the cube first made a splash in America, in 1980. Zsa Zsa Gabor hosted the launch party in Hollywood. About 100 million cubes sold in the first two years. The fad died, but the cube never did; in one recent marketing study, 85% of the respondents recognized the brand name.
At Caltech, the players used their own cubes. (Some, like Zamora, have store-bought models, but many get do-it-yourself kits that enable them to adjust the tension in the springs.) Called forward by name, they handed their cubes to the judges, who scrambled them to prearranged settings so that everyone had to solve the same puzzles.
The lead judge was Tyson Mao, vice-president of the World Cubing Association. He was once on the TV show "Beauty and the Geek," singing the Foreigner song "Hot Blooded" with his partner. He and his brother Toby taught Will Smith how to solve the cube for the recent film "The Pursuit of Happyness."
Each contestant was ushered with the scrambled cube to one of six timing stations. The cube was unveiled by a judge and the player was allowed to pick it up and study it for about 15 seconds.
Then the cube was placed on the table and covered again. The player put both hands on a pressure-sensitive pad. The judge uncovered the cube, and when the player reached for it, the clock started automatically. Upon solving the cube, the player touched the pad again, stopping the clock.
(In the blindfolded competition, the clock started as soon as a player picked up a cube to study it. Most spent at least a minute calculating moves before pulling the blindfold over their eyes and solving the puzzle. Top time at Caltech: 1 minute, 54 seconds, by Chris Krueger of Denver.)
For the uninitiated, the contest was a jaw-dropping blur of fast hands and fast minds. All the colors blended together as the cubes were twisted back and forth.
Lucas Garron, 16, from Walnut Creek, Calif., got going so fast once that his cube flew apart - a "pop" in competition parlance. With the clock still running, he had to scramble after the pieces and put them back in the cube before continuing.
"Pops are bad," said Vincent Le, a 16-year-old high school student from San Diego. "They ruin your time."
Nobody shows much emotion in speedcubing. There was no taunting or heckling at Caltech - no spiking a cube in triumph or anger. No "Cuber Dads" yelled insults from the sidelines.
That's due in part to the way winners are decided - not by raw speed, but by consistency. Take as an example Patricio's win in the main Rubik's Cube event, known as the 3-by-3.
He did not have the single fastest time in any of the three rounds. (That distinction went to Dan Dzoan, of Freemont, Calif., who had an 11.17 one time.) He didn't have the best average time, based on five solves, in either the first round or the second. (Shotaro Makisumi of Arcadia, Calif., did.)
But in the finals, his 13.47 average was the best, edging Makisumi's 13.51. He said he's learned to be patient and keep his nerves in check when it counts.
Another reason there's so little tension: Not much is at stake. No big cash prizes or trophies - "just bragging rights," Zamora said.
Ultimately, according to the players, the person you are competing with is yourself. When Espinoza completed a blindfolded solve at Caltech, his first ever in competition, he smiled and said, "Now I can go home happy."
Everybody seemed to take delight in the performance of Justin Adsuara, a 10-year-old from San Lorenzo, Calif. He wore a T-shirt that said "Cubefreak" and finished in the top 15 in several events.
"It's fun to get faster," he said.
Justin had a name tag on his shirt, but it didn't have his name on it. Instead he wrote his Internet screen name, so that other players might recognize him from various speedcubing chat rooms.
They had a lot to talk about online after the Caltech competition. A dozen national and North American records were set there.
And now word is circulating about a possible new world record out of Finland, where Anssi Vanhala solved the cube with an average time of 47.48 seconds.
With his feet.
