Noor(46)

“Geno,” he said. “Geno, you extracted the universe from a drop of milk. Milk flowed, even out here in the desert. Please, please help me.” He dropped into Pulaar and for several minutes, he was completely lost to me. Then suddenly, he stopped his frantic praying, talking, pleading, whatever he was doing. He thrust both his hands deep into the soil and shut his eyes.

I will never believe in Christ or Allah or any other God. I will never follow any religion. Up until three days ago, I did not believe in juju. Not in oracles, charms, or anything that human beings think they can control. My life was an example that there was no such thing as true human control. But I’d been in a sorcerer’s hut yesterday, smoking sorcerer’s weed. With my mind, I’d stopped machines from executing me, DNA, and his two remaining steer. And when he buried his hand into the sand, through the sensors on the bottoms of my cybernetic feet, I felt the sand I stood on warm up like a sunrise. I swear it.

“My mother,” he said, his eyes still closed. “I saw her do this once. Her youngest brother was one of those who fought the Ultimate Corp security at the warehouse that day. She heard about how it burned and so many were killed. She needed him to come home. So she dug her hands in the dirt and prayed to our Earth to return him. He was covered in soot, but he walked into our compound two minutes later.”

I sat beside him and dug my hands in the sand, too. “What are we asking for?”

“Help. To find my sister. Help for my fellow true Fulani herdsman; we’re not terrorists.”

I shut my eyes and did my best. Instead of the Earth, I found myself talking to the pomegranate of eyes. I kept my breathing steady and deep, staying aware of my physical body. Calm. I had to stay calm. Where is she? I asked. I cannot describe the feeling but I felt and saw it all, despite the fact that my brain was unable to process it. Perspectives, voices, words, screenshots, word searches. We were sweeping. There was a text message. It said, “It’s ok. Wuro will sit.” The text had a number. We followed it. Triangulated its signal, disregarded where the number was based.

“I know where your sister is,” I said, opening my eyes. “West of the Red Eye, near the Nigeria-Niger border.”

“That’s where the Bukkaru council holds its most important meetings,” DNA said. “It’s where they know they’ll be only amongst themselves. Do you know what they’re doing there?”

“The text message said, ‘It’s ok. Wuro will sit.’?”

He frowned, shaking his head. “I don’t know what that means. There was no other information?”

“I can dig, but not without alerting them to my presence. Might be better to do that when we have a plan.”

“True,” he said. “Are you all right?”

I smiled. “I’m fine.”

“Good,” he said. “So . . . can you do a little something more?”



* * *



—

It didn’t take me long to locate them. And because it was simple, finding them didn’t hurt me. DNA knew the exact details to give, but he couldn’t have known that those he had asked me to seek had arrived in the Hour Glass so recently. I located and sent them messages. Two hours later, they came through the cornfields. We’d waited there and when the corn stalks started rustling, we both thought they were something else.

“Are there wild animals here?” I asked, jumping to my feet.

“Pigeons, lizards, geckos, flies, the occasional scorpion, things like that, nothing big,” he said, keeping his eyes on the rustling corn stalks. They came one by one. Within a minute of each other. Three of them. All men. When they emerged from the corn field, they stood staring at each other, surprised to see someone else emerging from the corn. One of them couldn’t hold back his tears, and he angrily looked away. The other two held DNA’s strong gaze. I took over when it was clear none of them planned to speak.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m the one who found you and sent a message. Can you tell me your names?”

“Lubega,” the one who was crying said. Tall and thin and the blue kaftan and jeans he wore made him look even more so. He couldn’t have been older than nineteen.

“Tasiri,” the one who looked about DNA’s age said. Tall with light brown skin, his dreadlocks were so strong that they stood straight up despite being inches long. “Who are you?”

“See them now,” the third one said, looking at Lubega and Tasiri. He could have been about thirty-five and was wearing nothing but red shorts. “This is why we came, right? To see them with our own eyes?” He pointed at DNA, glaring. “Do you understand what is happening? What you’ve done?”

“I didn’t do anything,” DNA snapped. “You know that. You saw the video. And you saw them kill my steer and my friends and their steer! I carry no Liquid Sword. I’m no terrorist.”

“Idris,” I said. He froze and stared at me. “Yeah, I know your name. I know a lot of things. Another thing I know is that I don’t have energy for this wahala. You’ve just been through hell. I understand. But I didn’t call you here to unload on DNA. He needs your help. And it’ll help you three, too.” I paused. “Please. Hear him out.” I stepped back.

“Thank you, AO,” he said. He turned to the herdsman. “Before I ask, please, I want to hear what happened to you. I need to know the details. How, why, when.”