The cloud comes from the west, protected from dispersal by the hills that surround Rosewater. It comes overnight, so most of the dead are taken in their sleep. Maybe one or two here and there wake up, only to find their skin sloughing off and their lungs boiling within their chests and their eyeballs exploding. Many call to the god of Rosewater, but Koriko is silent. Or she is too busy collecting the dead to save the living. Maybe she intervened, but those saved do not know it, therefore are not grateful. Maybe the disaster would have been much worse without her.
The scientists determine that there are at least two forms of the cloud, one being toxic vapour, while the other is a mixture of smoke and dust. Within the first hour the vapour takes half of the total casualties. The dust cloud and the smoke persist and cause slower death. Not as many floaters die as one would expect.
The mayor authorises sodium chloride cloud seeding, and within half an hour there is rain over the city. People are warned not to drink or shower in the rain. The dust and smoke dissolve and flow down the streets, into the sewers, but also into the respiratory holes that Wormwood uses.
It is unknown if the toxins can harm the alien.
At the facility from which the cloud originates, the fire service manages to put the blaze out by encasing the entire building in foam, which finally starves the flames. There are six corpses, all badly corroded. The police soon find out that one is Homian.
The information lands on the desk of Aminat Arigbede and she takes it straight to the mayor’s mansion.
“It’s a synner,” she says to Jack Jacques.
“You’re sure?” says the mayor.
“Hundred per cent.”
Not every road in Rosewater is on the map. The same probably applies to the city you live in. There are narrow roads and streets that no window or door opens on to, where surveillance is forbidden, where there are devices that distort electromagnetic waves to stymie satellites. These are the byways that Jack travels through when he leaves the mansion. Rosewater now has a standing army, and the Engineer Corps has the unenviable task of keeping the mossy alien growth off, like the civilian weeders, only more efficient.
Mile 18 is an area in the north-west of Rosewater. Sparsely populated, and therefore almost returning to verdant bush, it is the designated meeting place when Jack wishes to speak with Koriko. The spot is at the root of the ninety-fifth ganglion, which is naked, meaning without an Ocampo inverter, and shuddering with power. While just as powerful as the old ganglia, Koriko’s versions are more conical, with broad bases tapering upwards to a point. Every leaf and flower in Mile 18 is wet from the rain. Jack hopes the puddles on the ground will not conduct electricity from the ganglion through his chair. The car idles three yards away, driverless. Lora stands beside him.
Koriko emerges from their left. Her gaze does not seem as focused as Jack is used to from previous conversations. She is wearing a wrapper with gele.
“Are you well?” asks Jack.
“I am busy,” says Koriko. “What do you want?”
“The chemical cloud that killed thousands. You know about that?”
“Yes, I have been busy gathering the bodies of the dead for occupation.”
“It was synner activity,” says Jack. “Someone called Laark.”
“If you say so. It is all one to me. More hosts for Homians.”
“This was an atrocity, Koriko. Mass murder. You have to curb the synners at least.”
“This sounds like something you should take up with the Honeycomb, Jack. Like enforcement or something. Apprehend the culprit and punish accordingly.”
“They died. It was a suicide run.”
“So why are you talking to me about—”
“Because Laark will just come back on the next boat from Home.”
“At which point he may kill again,” says Lora.
“What do you want me to do?” asks Koriko.
“I want you to heal people affected by the cloud, instead of waiting for their corpses. And I want you to stop Laark from recycling,” says Jack. “Please.”
“I am healing the injured, as agreed. I am taking the dead, also as agreed. You know I have no influence over who goes into what body.”
“They worship you,” says Jack. “We worship you.”
“That’s under the control of the people doing the worshipping, because I’m sure I didn’t ask for it. Now, I am busy. I will leave now.”
“Wait. The floaters are affecting the local biomass. And they’re destroying all our surveillance drones.”
“You don’t need drones, Jack. You have me.” With this, she walks away.
Lora starts back to the car. “Was she even listening?”
“She was listening. She heard us about the floaters at least. I’m not sure what she’ll do about the synners, but maybe we can work something out with Aminat.”
“Sir, I think we need a clause in the agreement with the Homians.”
“What kind of clause?”
“Finite lives. If all they do is come back in a new body after death, synners won’t need to learn any lessons. Death has to mean death, otherwise Rosewater, Nigeria, heck, the world will just be a video game for them where they will just re-spawn and humans will be non-player characters.”
Jack knows she is right, but does not see himself as being able to negotiate at the present time. There are 204 active court cases against his government, from the victims of rape during the insurrection to trade unions who say their contracts were affected by the schism with Nigeria. And you can only suspend due process so many times before you become a banana republic. Not a good look.
“Tell me, Lora, should we invite Kaaro to the mansion? He knows the alien mind and I need someone like that.” He transfers into the car, and notes that his forearms ache, though he doesn’t know why. His chair is mechanised.
“No, sir. If you would rather not transmit by phone, I could be your envoy. He can’t read my mind. There is information in your mind that should not be known to Kaaro Goodhead. Besides, he hates you.”
On the drive back, Jack tries different permutations of what assets he has, and there is nothing he can bring to bear on the aliens.
He does not like it.