Static.
There is a boy with him. They are calling me enemy combatant.
Static.
I am synth, and I am not having pain receptor in my brain, and it is this that is making me not to be feeling thing even though many thing inside me is broken.
Static.
Man is gone but boy is staying and I am raising my head to be seeing his face, and when he is looking at me he is smiling so his teeth are shining yellow like corn they are selling by the street and I am seeing the way hair is over his face and the way the skin on his knuckles is broken, and I am seeing the vest he is wearing and the patches and I am knowing that he is soldier too and that he is with what I am knowing is a militia and they are small small army but they are killing just like soldier.
Static.
And boy is looking at me like I am something to be eating and then he is reaching behind him and pulling cord from his neck and he is walking close to me and he is putting cord in my neck and suddenly I am feeling everything.
Static.
I am feeling the breaking in my ribs and in my back and in my crotch and in my arms and in my head and he is smiling at me and saying now I will be feeling these thing and he is raising his stick and I
am screaming and opening my eyes at Enyemaka, whose eye is glowing red at me, and I am biting my teeth and my whole body is shivering but I am on one knee and still upright and pain is pushing me down to the ground, but I am staying as I am and I am holding my cord in my hand and squeezing, and it is this squeezing that is pulling me out of the remembering. And Enyemaka is not letting go of my arm but I am pulling hard against her and pulling and pulling and pulling until I am hearing giant metal RIP and Enyemaka’s arm is lying in red dust but the hand is still gripping me. I am falling onto the ground but coming back to my feet quick and slamming the arm on the ground until it is letting go of me, then I am seeing Enyemaka turning to me. My cord is hanging loose behind me like long piece of hair. And Enyemaka’s eye is still glowing. I am picking up arm and I am raising it like boy in remembering is raising his stick and there is passing one moment where I am hesitating because I am loving Enyemaka and she is caring for me and she is giving me purpose, but then she is lying to me and I am telling myself that they are the same but maybe this one is different. Maybe this one is being the bad one, but I am not letting myself to think these thing for long because she is stepping closer to me and I am closing my eyes and swinging. And when I am hearing the metal crash against the metal it is making me to be sadding, and Enyemaka is falling but I am not stopping and I am bringing the arm up and down, up and down, up and down until Enyemaka’s face is just small small pieces of metal on the ground.
When I am finished, I am looking down at Enyemaka, who is expiring, and I am wanting it to not be this way, but her eye is still glowing red, then it is glowing green for one moment and I am thinking that she is back to Enyemaka who is loving me, then is no more glowing. Just darkness.
The earth is moving under my feet. Pebble is bouncing and bone is rattling. Then I am looking and I am seeing cloud of red dust forming on the ground in the distance. It is rising high and high and being so thick it is blocking the sun. They are coming.
The Enyemaka are coming for me.
And I am running.
* * *
■ ■ ■ ■ ■
Green is showing ahead of me, and even though it is being far away, it is poking over the edge of the ground, and I am seeing treetops. I am feeling heat eating me inside and I am knowing that what is happening to Onyii when she is getting sick and dying is happening to me too. People are calling it cancer and though I am knowing that it is eating human thing and changing blood and organ to be poison, it is also doing something like this to metal. I am feeling inside me that thing is breaking. Thing that is making me to be running forever and never tiring, thing that is making me to be breathing air and processing it and exhaling it, thing that is making me to think with my brain, thing that is giving me feeling in my heart.
All of sudden air is coming easy to me and my chest is not making rasping noise when I am breathing. I am not feeling heavy and there is being wetness in the air and it is cooling my face. I am not hearing the hissing I am always hearing in the Redlands, the sound of important thing burning, and I am falling to my knees on the other side of what is like invisible wall between world that is poison and world that is not trying to be killing me.
Tree is closer to me, and I am being happy to be seeing so much green because it is like it is saying to me, Welcome, and it is opening arm to me and telling me to come inside. I am picking myself up and looking behind me and seeing that the Enyemaka are becoming closer. They are moving so fast even though they are looking like they are moving slow slow but I am knowing how much ground they are eating beneath them and the sound of their running is like giant THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP against the ground like army of juggernaut is chasing me. It is making me think of Lagos and the first time I am feeling fear but I am throwing that remembering away and turning to the forest and running because it is cool and safe and familiar and I am knowing how to be climbing trees and hiding under big leaves and telling where is shorthorn and where is passing wulfu and other animals.
It is always feeling like it is just finished raining in forest, like it is bubble holding living thing and protecting them from angry, dangerous world, and I am just one more thing it is protecting. I am running over root and sliding over tree trunk that is falling sideways. Baby wulfu is looking at me as I am running by then returning to their play and it is like being with friend again.
All while I am hiding, I am thinking on why Enyemaka is lying to me and telling me that there is oasis when there is no oasis and I am thinking that Enyemaka is not caring for me, only pretending to be caring for me and caring what is happening to me. And now even in forest I am starting to be feeling cold and alone because everyone is lying to me and no one is caring for me and I am thinking this is maybe mistake in how I am being made that I am wishing someone is caring for me. Part of me is just wanting to give up and let Enyemaka use me for what she is wanting. But other part of me, bigger part of me, is remembering what I am hearing from Uzodinma and Oluwale and what we are saying to each other about making my own future and being my own person.
I realize I am hearing nothing.
Not even chirping of bird and grunting of shorthorn. Why am I hearing nothing?
Then I am smelling it. Fire.
First I am smelling it, then I am hearing it—the crackle and the pop and the rustle and the crackle again—then I am seeing it. By the time I am seeing it, it is wall of fire where I am facing. I am running the other way, but the air is being clear for only a few moment before it is being filled with smoke again. I am turning every way and running but I am finding no clear air anywhere, and even though I am not coughing I am feeling damage happening to my lungs and the other parts inside me. Water is building in my eyes to protect them.
I am looking and looking, then I am finding tree with thick trunk and I am leaping up to be climbing it. And I am climbing and climbing then jumping to other tree and climbing then, when I am reaching top of that tree, I am jumping to next tree and climbing until I get to the very top and can see far far far in the forest, so far in the forest that I am seeing where it is ending and Redland is beginning.
Everywhere there is fire. Everywhere in front of me, everywhere behind me.
I am smelling sulfur, and I am thinking maybe this is part of fire, but then I am remembering other time when I am smelling sulfur like this, and then I am falling from tree because my body is shaking and I am no longer controlling it.
Because I am having epileptic fit, and where I am falling is fire. Only fire. And I am feeling nothing because my brain is no longer belonging to me. There is only the air that is twisting around me, the wind whistling in my ears, and as I am falling, I am sadding. Because I am thin
king of all the gosling that is now no longer having home.
* * *
■ ■ ■ ■ ■
When I am waking up, I am hearing footstep and I am knowing right away that I am moving, but my feet are dragging along the ground and my arms are being held up, even though I am not feeling them because they are broken. I am hearing heavy breathing on both sides of me and it is not sounding like droid or metal person that is breathing. Is sounding like red-blood. Like human I am spending so much time avoiding. But these people are carrying me over their shoulders. And I am opening my eye as much as I am being able and I am looking to one side and I am seeing Ngozi. Part of me is wanting to struggle and thrash because I am not wanting to go back to Xifeng, who is just using me for her mission and not caring about me, but my body is not listening to my brain. I look to the other side and can feel the insides of me warm and heat up with surprise and disbelief and what I am realizing is gratitude because when I am opening my eyes and seeing who else is carrying me, I am seeing Ify’s face. And she is the only person I am knowing who is not lying to me. My cord is dangling, so it is not connecting to her, and she is looking straight forward, but I am hearing how her body is speaking when she and Ngozi are carrying me to their aircraft and to the woman named Grace Leung, who is standing guard over it. I am listening to what Ify’s body is telling me and it is like color and feeling are being sent to my brain, not just word, so that I am not only hearing but feeling with my whole body Ify telling me, Don’t worry, don’t worry, don’t worry.
I am wanting to tell her thank you, but my mouth is not moving, so instead I am crying and hoping that Ify is understanding that this is how I am being able to say thank you.
CHAPTER
47
Ngozi clears a space in the section of the aircraft behind the cockpit. She works swiftly, dismantling the seats that lined each side, fetching a medkit from her mech, and preparing a makeshift bed for Uzo, with medical supplies in a neat, efficient array beside her, among the supplies a sort of liquid battery that feeds nanobots into Uzo’s prone, motionless form by way of a needle injected into her damaged left arm.
When they’d first brought Uzo into the plane and laid her down, they’d all shared a moment of despairing shock. The synth’s skin peeled in a number of places, revealing metal rusted with corrosion beneath. Pistons and gears and divets the color of blood with dried oil like grease puddles around some of her abrasions. Soot blackened her face, and even now, in slumber, her chest heaves with labored breathing. Watching Ngozi hook Uzo to the external battery and get to work settling cushions beneath Uzo’s head, Ify remembers watching so many loved ones hovering over the hospital beds of patients in her care, whispering words she was sure the patient couldn’t hear or trying to stimulate responses by touch when Ify knew the patient had no way of responding. And annoyance had cut through her, watching that. It was illogical, what they were doing. And yet she kneels by Uzo’s side, wanting to run her fingers over the backs of the synth’s charred hands, wanting to murmur nothings into her ear, not caring whether she can hear her or not.
“Some of these will have to be replaced,” Ngozi says from behind her mask as she takes her tools to the exposed metal of Uzo’s shoulder. Her legs are riddled with rashes and burns as well. These, at least, Grace treats with healing pads and gel from the medkit. “But I’ve managed to restore brain function. She wasn’t out for long before we found her, thank God.” A smirk. “She certainly has Onyii’s luck.”
An ease settles into the back of Ify’s mind. As though a worry has been checked off her list. If Uzo is still alive, that means Ify has a working braincase to examine. That means they are that much closer to helping the children in Alabast.
After a while, Ngozi sits back and hangs some of her tools on hooks in a makeshift stand next to her. Then she takes off her mask, wipes the sweat from her forehead with her arm, and sighs. It’s a large sound in the small area of the plane behind the cockpit. “She’ll live.” When Ngozi says it, Ify doesn’t hear the joy she expects. “We need to talk about how you get her out of Nigeria.”
Grace stops swabbing Uzo’s legs and watches the cream dry, smoothing the ragged edges of the broken skin. “We can’t go back, can we?”
Ngozi shakes her head. “It’s no longer safe for you here.”
“They’ll find us.”
Ify considers them both, then looks down at Uzo’s still form. “We haven’t even asked her yet.”
They both look Ify’s way.
“What if she refuses?” She can’t stop scanning Uzo’s wounds, the story all her markings tell. “What if she doesn’t want to come with us?”
“Where will she go?” Ngozi asks, annoyed. “She’ll be hunted here. And they will catch her sooner rather than later.”
Ify smirks. “You’ve managed to steer clear.”
Ngozi puts her hand to her chest. “I’m a fugitive. No one lasts long as a fugitive here.” She lowers her voice, drains the anger from it. “I’ve made my peace with this. I only made it this far because there were others. If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together. That was our rule. Who will watch over her?”
“We can care for her in Alabast,” Grace says, insistent. “We can give her the best medical treatment. We can help her build a life for herself.” She stops, but Ify knows what she was about to say. Just like you were able to, Ify. “She’s a child.”
“No,” Ify says, almost too soft for anyone to hear but her. “She’s not. She’s a synth. Every one of her kind is here.”
“Every one of her kind is dead, Ify.” This from Ngozi. “All of them.” She reaches behind her and bangs the palm of her hand against the hull of their ship. “No more signals. None. She’s the last one.”
No more. The others. Ify imagines a bevy of young children the same age as the unconscious girl nearby, all of them strangers to themselves, a jumble of memories and information and command inputs, all of them struggling to find a place in peacetime. Ify imagines what they might have been like together. Brothers and sisters. Siblings. Family. All gone. Uzo is the only one left. “So we should just take her to space, then?” Rage builds within Ify. “Just rip her from the only home she has ever known? Drop her onto an island floating in space where she’ll be surrounded by oyinbo? Who will look at her like she is a turd that just dropped from the sky? They will not welcome her. They will challenge her and despise her and try to keep her from getting what they have simply because she does not look or speak like them. Is that what you want for her?”
“If she stays here,” Ngozi roars, “she will die!”
“She’ll have a choice!”
“If I am choosing between gari and starvation, I should choose starvation, then?”
“She’s a synth! They’ll send her back as soon as she gets there. So she’ll have gone through this whole journey for what? To wind up at a refugee camp in the Jungle? A floating rubbish bin in space where people are practically swimming in their own offal? Is that what you want for her?”
“So because Onyii saved your life without asking your permission, you think that was a mistake?”
And that stops Ify cold.
“She saved your life,” Ngozi hisses. “And all you have ever been is ungrateful. The comfortable life you have in the Colonies? That is because of her. Your precious job as a doctor? That is because of her.” She leans in toward Ify. “The very fact that you are breathing. That is because of her.” Those last words turn into a snarl. After a beat, Ngozi settles against the wall. “And you are upset because she did not ask your permission.” She sucks her teeth. “You are mad.” With her finger, she jabs her temple. “Mad.”
Fury bends Ify’s fingers into fists, but there’s nothing she can say. It is foolishness to resent Onyii for what she did, but Ify can’t bring herself to let it go. Then she realizes that a part of her had wanted to stay. Even if it meant being chased by the
government for the rest of the war. Even if it meant never knowing another moment of peace. Even if it meant watching Onyii die before her very eyes, she would have been with her. She could have held her hand in her last moments, and Onyii denied her that. Took that choice away from her.
Ify looks to the ceiling. “What do we do?”
“Um . . .” But Grace doesn’t finish.
Ify turns her way, then sees her looking at Uzo, who is looking straight back at Ify.
“She’s awake,” Grace says at last.
CHAPTER
48
Ify is playing with her hands.
“Are you being nervous?” I am asking her, but it is scratching my throat, so I am forcing myself not to be asking more question.
Then she is stopping playing with her hands, then she is looking at the floor, then she is looking at me. “In ancient Inca society,” she begins saying, “there was a thing called a khipu.”
As she is saying this, I am accessing network and downloading image of khipu and all information about it and I am seeing row of knotted string that is being tied to single braided rope and the knotted string is having different color. And I am knowing that this is ancient devices that is being used to record thing like people name and people hair color and people status in society, whether they are big man or whether they are small small. The knot in the string and the number of string and the number of knot and the color of all of these thing are telling whoever is looking the name and location and detail of people who is living in a village. I am knowing all of this before Ify is finishing her sentence.
“We think there is something like that in your braincase.”
She is saying we and I am knowing that she is meaning her and Grace. Not Ngozi.
Rebel Sisters Page 32