Remote Control

by Nnedi Okorafor

Her story travelled like an ancestor, always ahead of, beside and behind her.

In Sankofa’s years on the road, she’d learned that people were complicated. They wore masks and guises to protect or hide their real selves. They reinvented themselves. They destroyed themselves. They built on themselves.

“Fatima,” she said. “My name is Fatima Okwan.” But I’m Sankofa, too, she thought. Always.