Noor(56)
“Cannabis plants,” I whispered. “Please.” I inhaled deeply. And they showed me. Fields and fields of it, waving at me in the breeze, seeking my attention. Just for a moment. Over there. Back at Force and Dolapo’s home. I inhaled deeply. And let the breath out slowly. Again. I inhaled, then I looked directly into the camera eye. “Do I make you feeeeeel uncomfortable? Unsafe?” I snarled. “Have you called all your loved ones to check on them? You want to know why you feel that way? You want to know who’s to blame for me?? The same people who made your mobile phones. The same people who made your children’s toys. The company who sells you the super-meats you put in your husband’s okra soup and pounded yam.”
Breathe, I thought.
“They are responsible for me. How did we get to this?” I paused. “Olives. If you do not remember the Ultimate Corp olives that caused five children to be born with horrible deformities, rush to the internet, look it up. The stories are all there. I am one of those children. You see, my mother loved olives. Especially when she was pregnant. Maybe it was the salt, or the taste, the nutty flavor olives are famous for. Or the firm fruit texture.
“And so I was born. With one arm and one arm stump. Legs with unformed femurs and no joints. One lung. My intestines in a knot. They made sure I lived, though. Then when I was fourteen, another so-called ‘accident’ that crippled me further. I have a cybernetic arm, cybernetic legs, human-made intestines and a human-made lung. I’ve got neural implants, see my head? I thought I was me because I was me. That I chose all this for myself. But what is choice when you have little choice? It’s not just me. It’s you, too.”
Breathe, I thought.
“We have pollen tsunamis because of Ultimate Corp’s periwinkle grass campaign in New Calabar. Naija people, which of you owns the land you live on? How many of you are Ultimate Corp academic scholars? Vomiting up rhetoric for your PhDs. Those few of you privileged enough to make it to university, are you studying what you want to study or are you studying so you can do what makes them more money? Which of you can afford to drop out of university? What are your real dreams? I’m a self-taught mechanic, my parents were professors. Olives.”
Breathe, I thought. I turned to look at everyone around me. All eyes on me, outside and inside. They were listening. So many. And I’d ensorcelled them. There was DNA. I turned the camera to him. The gold-faced people moved away from the camera’s eye and, in turn, away from DNA. I looked at him as I spoke, but I spoke to the market people of the Hour Glass around me. “People of the Hour Glass. I just got here. I was tired and you embraced me. Thank you.” I was calm now. “I’ve seen what they do.”
Someone in the group shouted back. “We all have, girl!”
Even more people shouted more affirmation.
“We’ve seen what they do,” I said again.
“We all have!” More people shouted this.
“We’ve seen what they do,” I said again.
“We all have!” Even more joined.
I grinned, tears welling in my eyes. Days ago they’d tried to kill me in a market, now here were free wild people protecting me. “We’ve seen what they do!” I shouted.
“WE ALL HAVE!” Now there were fists in the air and the voices sounded hoarse and low, there were mostly men in the crowd. Now almost everyone was in the market space. I could see more people coming. Their phones up, recording. Recording me.
In the height of the moment, one of the gold-faced people leapt on the car. He tried to grab me and out of nowhere, I saw Dolapo scream, leap and throw herself on the man.
“Dolapo,” I shouted. “What are you doing?”
They went down, the man punching at her. I could hear her grunting in pain, and I was about to throw myself into the mix when another man grabbed at me. He was very strong. Instead of twisting away, I grabbed him back with my dead arm . . . which clearly wasn’t dead. There was a mad scramble toward the car, but I was barely aware of it. I was barely aware of anything. My body was acting. Again. Reacting. Oh no! My arm was acting on its own. Again. In my mind, I’d given this phenomenon a name, though it had only happened once. Kill Mode. I shoved at him with my flesh hand as he tried to grab me again. Idiot! He managed to get his hands around my throat. He was choking me but only for a moment, because my cybernetic arm pulled back and I was pulled back with it! Then I saw my left fist punch the man so hard that it smashed his gold mask.
The market space burst into violence. Shouts and grunts, as people fought and I was pulled back. I fell hard on the ground, my metal hand still in a fist, pressing to my face. It smelled of blood, was wet with it. My left arm buzzed and then went numb again. “Oh,” I whispered. Someone was hoisting me up, and suddenly DNA was in my face. He pulled me along, and somehow Force was in front of him pulling him, as was a bloody-nosed Dolapo. We were battered left and right, but by the backs of people. The market people were shielding us, giving us a way out as they fought. We arrived at a red car.
“Get in, get in!!” Force shouted.
I threw myself into the backseat with Dolapo and Force and DNA climbed into the front. “Go!” Force said to the car and it went. I was lying on my side, my face to the car seat. I slapped my arm. I might as well have slapped a slab of scrap metal, dead again.
“Dolapo,” I breathed. “Are you all right?”