Before Emeka could say anything, Christopher strode in with a grin and turbulent light in his eyes. Lord save us, he had an idea.
“Get the car,” he said. “We are off to pay the corrupt and corrupt the gullible.”
He didn’t have to tell Emeka where to point the automobile. The eruption of the dome was on all feeds all the time. Self-drive wouldn’t work because people were barred from going to that destination. It was the first thing authorities would disable in a crisis.
Normally a two-hour trip, the roads were clogged with people like them who wanted to see what an alien looked like. Christopher spent the trip cutting blue typing sheets into small rectangles. Then he wrote numbers on each one with a biro he found in the trunk. When the car could no longer move, Christopher said to abandon the car and continue on motorbike taxis. Emeka resented leaving his mother’s car, but did not complain. A mile out, there was no movement, not even the two-wheel kind. The sky darkened with more drones than either of them had ever seen.
On foot, Christopher insinuated himself and sucked Emeka along with his gravitational field. At the cordon, he negotiated with the security man and they both saw the alien structure close-up. It was like Satan reverse-fucked the Earth and left his penis poking out, pulsating with eldritch engorgement. The thing had veins, skin and warmth. Christopher smacked Emeka on his back.
“We’re not here to sight-see. Start selling tickets.”
He handed Emeka a batch of the blue rectangles and they started the work. They gave a cut to the Civil Defence guys, but still made a tidy sum over the next few weeks.
Then Emeka met Kudi.