Remote Control

by Nnedi Okorafor

There was talk of a new virus and fear of this resulting in a pandemic faster and more lethal than the one in 2020.

“She’s the adopted child of the Angel of Death. Beware of her. Mind her. Death guards her like one of its own.” There was truth in every single one of the stories.

Never had she seen anyone, woman or man, with tattoos of circuitry. Just like the insides and parts of computers she saw sold in every market she passed through. This woman had them running up both her arms like a disease.

This was the type of cigarette that made people see God, slowed time and attracted happiness.

“I like to look into the eyes of hurricanes,” she said.

American music played and the store smelled like the sweat of its anxious customers.