DNA was pacing the other side of the room, muttering to himself. They’d all agreed that he’d do the talking. Their message would be clearest if only one of them spoke, and DNA was the “fugitive,” the wronged, the brother of the woman they wanted freed. Plus, he had the most to say. Force was speaking to him. Dolapo was laughing and chatting with Idris, Lubega, and Tasiri. I turned to the virtual street and looked up at the virtual sky. The shining sun peeked through occasionally as the blasting and blowing winds of the Red Eye thinned and thickened.
We’d brought washcloths, tissues, ice packs. Force even brought a heart defibrillator. All for me. I didn’t think any of it would help, but I kept these thoughts to myself. What I thought about most in that hour were my parents. How they’d looked during that interview. My mother’s freshly done braids, her make-up, my father’s trimmed beard and the suit I’d never seen him wear. And how relaxed they looked, despite their supposed outrage. My parents loved me, but they’d never liked me. My brother couldn’t be found for questioning. He couldn’t be there just to put in a good word for me. He loved me too. He’d seen me through all the pain and healing and breaking and re-healing; and my choices. But he’d always been a coward. Fuck them, I thought, as I followed everyone up the spiral stairs.
I imagined that with each step I took, more of what was mine fell away from me. My childhood. My apartment in Abuja. My joys. My bank accounts. My created online identity. My birth record. My memories. My pain. By the time I stepped into that room, and was surrounded by the screens, I was exactly me in that moment, and I was so much more because the place was buzzing with connections, power, and cameras.
Force had had four folding chairs and a black leather armchair brought up. None of us had to guess who the reclining chair was for. “It spins, too,” Force said, sitting in it, reclining and spinning himself around. “You’ll have a 360 degree view of what you see,” he said. “You’ll be able to zoom in anywhere.”
I nodded. The Bukkaru were being smart. They weren’t using mobile phones or tablets or anything that gave off a digital signal. Not for now. They’d gone completely analogue. But this was the desert and someone in the desert always had a drone. If not in the council camp, somewhere nearby. With a drone, I could see and hear everything in another way. I sat down on the arm chair. “Where did you get this?” I asked.
“It’s Hour Glass made,” Dolapo said, setting a metal folding chair beside me. She reached into a box beside the chair. “And I brought you snacks, cigarettes, tea, and refreshing mint-scented hemp lotion, all also Hour Glassmade.”
“I don’t smoke.”
“Good,” she said, dropping the pack back in the box.
While Force showed them where the cameras were and Dolapo went through her little checklist to make sure she had everything (she seemed to be the one who’d organized all the fine details), I sat down in the chair and reclined. The ceiling was painted black and dotted with white specks that looked like stars. I felt good, calm, though I knew if I blew my nose, clumps of coagulated blood would fly out. And, even if I wanted to blow my nose, I could barely raise my cybernetic arm to do so.
DNA and the others were huddled together talking. I hadn’t asked him what he’d say. That part of it wasn’t anything I could help with, plus I had other things to worry about. “I hope his speech is good,” I muttered.
When it was five minutes to the reset, Force came to me. “You ready?”
I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Find the drone, connect them, and hold,” he said. “Let them do the rest. Things get most taxing when you try to do too much at the same time. The human brain isn’t a computer, it’s alive, organic. It’s not made to process all that.”
“I know,” I said. “I don’t enjoy nose bleeds, brain damage, or heart attacks, Force.”
“Please, AO.”
“I know.”
“And I know you.”
“I’m just going to connect them.”
He nodded and stepped to the control center. He sat on the stool, his arms across his chest because there was nothing left for him to do at the moment.
DNA came and knelt beside me. “Do you know what you’re going to say?” I asked.
“Yes. I’ll be speaking in Pulaar. I’ll narrate our innocence, review our tribal code, and . . .” He got up. “Honestly, I don’t know if this’ll work, but we’ll do our best.” He bent down and kissed me. “Let this place do the work. Keep it simple. Just connect us.”
I watched him go and take his seat. “It’s simple, all right,” I muttered, watching the clock count down to a second before 1:11. The virtual view of the Hour Glass near sunset became obscured with dust and sand. DNA and the others held hands. Dolapo said, “Here we go.” Force sat in his spot looking at me. My left arm twitched, but that was all. I felt good. I felt strong. I was clear. After sixty seconds, I shut my eyes. And then I was sweeping, searching for a drone in the northwestern part of the Nigerian desert.
CHAPTER 18
Bukkaru
It was like flying and taking candy from a baby. I was looking out over miles and miles of sand dune. A glorious bird’s eye view. Oh how nice it was to see the sun and open blue sky. I took the moment to enjoy the drone’s 3D perspective. It had a fully charged battery and a good camera, one that picked up the sound of the wind but also the distant laughter of the girl below who was looking up at me. She wore a green veil and a loose green dress. She was about ten years old. I could see her dark brown face as she smiled up at me, the drone controls in her hands. Not far behind her was the Bedouin-style black tent, where a woman who was most likely her mother sat reading from a tablet, and a man who was most likely her father was laying out flat black solar panels beside the tent.
I saw the girl’s smile drop from her face as I took her drone higher. She looked at her controls and then back up at the drone. Then she began shouting and running after me. Her father was calling his daughter’s name, it was Naziha, and telling her to stop. Interesting that he spoke English. She couldn’t keep up and soon I had taken little Naziha’s drone, to be used for more important things.
* * *
—
Once I was ready, it was easy to gather the Bukkaru. They’d grown comfortable in 24 hours, each person secretly switching on their cell phones and tablets, sure that no one would notice and anxious to see what was going on in the world, to watch streaming series, check in on friends. I sent messages to every single one of them.
“No point in switching off. We’ve found you. Gather, so we can talk. Ten minutes. Sincerely, DNA and the Last Herdsmen.” For good measure, I locked their devices and watched as most of them rushed with their devices to a central location in the Bukkaru council camp. People bring their tech everywhere with them. Why it didn’t dawn on them to leave it behind was just a sign of these foolish times.
“I’ve found and alerted them,” I said. “They’re gathering. Wait a few minutes.”
“How are you feeling?” Dolapo asked.
“Her heart rate is still normal,” Force said from where he sat.