Remote Control

by Nnedi Okorafor

Movenpick joined her, trotting at her heels, knowing to stay out of her line of vision but in her line of thought.

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

Let the women of RoboTown gossip, let Alhaja feel mildly uncomfortable; Sankofa’s hatred of mosquitoes was purely justified and she would keep zapping them with her light when she so pleased.

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.