Remote Control

by Nnedi Okorafor

Happy healthy content people and definitely “been-tos.” If she had to guess, she’d say from America.

native dishes. Kelewele, aponkye nkrakra and fufu, kenkey, waakye, red red, jollof rice, fried chicken, akrantie and goat meat,

She looked a little fatter than she had in the family photo in the hallway. Life was good for her.

He spoke like an American, so she’d been right in her assessment. Americans were always so well fed.

“You’re Sankofa, the one who sleeps at death’s door,”

Movenpick?”

Right there in the darkness, she glowed her dim green. Ye, tears freely rolling down her cheeks. The boy’s eyes were wide and he had an enormous grin on his face. “Real life ‘remote control’!”

“So where are you going next?” Edgar asked. “To a place I’m not even sure exists anymore,” she said. Sankofa smiled, glad that he had not run like his sister. She hated when that happened. It always made her feel that ache she worked so hard to mute. “Why?” She shrugged. “It’s time.” “So, you really can’t ride in cars?” She shook her head. “That’s so cool,” he whispered. “Not really.” “Are you a child of the dev…” “No,” she snapped. The conversation ended there.

She held her head up and looked into the night with the confidence of a leopard. Sankofa liked to imagine that she was a Mamprusi princess walking the moonlit road toward her long-lost queendom.

“Anyén!” he cried. He switched to English. “Evil witch!” He was sweating and weeping. “Kwaku Agya. Do you know this name? Do you remember my brother’s name? Does the child of the devil remember the names of those it kills?” “I know the name,” she said. Sankofa remembered all the names of those she took as a kindness.

She watched this as the heat bloomed from her like a round mushroom. In times like this, it was near involuntary. From somewhere deep within her soul, a primal part of her gave permission to her unearthly power.

native language of Twi,

“Your brother’s name was Kwaku Samuel Agya and his cancer was so advanced that it had eaten away most of his internal organs. I did not cause this cancer, gateman. I happened to walk into his village when he was ready to die. He asked me to take him. His wife asked me to take him. His son asked me to take him. His best friend asked me to take him.” Tears fell from her eyes as she spoke. Then she pushed away the pain in her chest. She muted it as she’d learned to do over the years. Her tears dried into trails of salt as her skin heated. She stood up. “When was the last time you spoke to your brother, gateman?”

Twi,

“You are confusion,” it said. “LifeGen studies you. Then it will find use for you.”