Aminat is pretty sure Kaaro would hate this if he were alive to protest.
The people–her brother, sister and her mother–are now staying with Aminat in the non-collapsed part of the property, to help her cope with her grief. They walk over every inch of the house, something Kaaro definitely would not approve of.
People visit other people, Kaaro. It’s not hostile action.
But why? Are their own houses shitty? Why would you leave your own house if you like it? I never leave the house.
I know.
The actions: an abundance of squeeze-hugs. She cannot remember ever receiving so many in such a short space of time. She is usually the one who initiates physical contact, but they seem to have decided it’s important to hold her. Even Tomi, her sister, was spreading her arms in invitation, and Tomi hates physical contact.
Food: they make so much. Tasty, appetising and soft-making. Aminat refuses many meals. The treadmill can’t cut it.
Questions: all the time. Redundant. Unnecessary. How are you feeling? How are you really feeling? Do you want something to eat? Poor you. How are you feeling? Do you wish you had married him? I don’t understand. Were you engaged? You were going to propose to him? Where are his people, anyway? Have you eaten? How are you feeling?
The fucking dog: Yaro will now not leave Aminat alone. He follows her everywhere, stopping at her feet when she comes to rest, rising as soon as she does. Fucking dog is going to pine to death because of Kaaro. It does one odd thing. It won’t let her sleep. When she is about to nod off, Yaro starts barking hysterically, and hello wakefulness.
It’s funny. Aminat misses Kaaro in a more physical way than she expected. Because they had been… not touching towards the end. Stupid. She can’t actually remember the last time they made love. This should sadden her, but it seems to just make her horny. But she can’t touch herself because of the fucking family and the fucking dog. God, she loves them, but she wants a break.
Her eyes are two heavy shutters. Yaro’s shouting is far away. Not shouting. Barking. Dogs bark, right? No, someone else is shouting. What Aminat sees are hundreds of people floating in dark space. Their eyes are closed and their clothing seems to roughly indicate what they do. The shouting comes from a particular man who is trapped in the jaws of a giant gryphon. The eagle beak-tears the man to pieces while riding currents of despair with outspread wings. The man’s distress ends abruptly as what’s left of him is swallowed. The gryphon’s beak is red, but the blood itself won’t drip in the weightlessness. It simply forms globules that Aminat fears may drift in her direction. The beast starts to cast about for its next victim. Aminat tries to move away, but ends up bouncing against adjacent people, sleepers, and attracting attention. The gryphon’s eye comes to rest on her. A nictitating membrane slides in a sideways blink. The creature gives a prolonged screech and beats its wings towards Aminat, shocking her awake.
Yaro whimpers beside her, tail between his legs, trying to look small. She pets him.
“Don’t you dare say I told you so,” she murmurs.
She knows what that was.
Kaaro.
“I don’t know,” says Layi. “You are bereaved. This might have been a bad dream. It is common to dream of a deceased loved one.”
“You sound like a pamphlet,” says Tomi.
Layi smiles. “I read one last night.”
“Me too!” Tomi and Layi bump fists across the dining table.
“Can we focus?” says Aminat. “On me? I’m why you’re here, right?”
“Yes,” says Tomi.
“Speak for yourself,” says Layi. “I’m here for the hotness of Rosewater boys. They have such good skin here.”
“Okay, didn’t know you were gay,” says Aminat.
“What, Kaaro did not tell you?” Layi looks surprised.
Aminat shakes her head, but she does not go on to describe the last days of her relationship.
“Is this a coming-out moment?” Aminat looks to Tomi, who seems more interested in getting something out of her corn flakes.
“Nah. I thought you knew,” says Layi.
“Everybody knows,” says Tomi. “There’s hair in my… I need another spoon.”
“It didn’t feel like a dream,” says Aminat. “It felt like I was there.”
“Yes, that’s what dreams are like,” says Layi.
“No. No, that wasn’t a dream.” Kaaro always suspected that the house was bugged and only said private things in the xenosphere. Aminat thinks she dropped into the xenosphere, although she shouldn’t be able to do that without Kaaro, who regularly took her there.
Everybody is in the xenosphere, every single human, but most people don’t know it. They remain inert and do not interact with each other. I don’t know what sets sensitives apart, but we’re awake in there, and we can fuck with people or each other.
What does it look like?
It doesn’t look like anything. You just have these odd self-images floating about, asleep. Nothing wakes them. You can fly among them, play with them like beach balls, spin them upside down when you’re bored.
Kaaro…
I don’t do that any more. It was years ago. I got bored easily. It is boring how mundane most people’s thoughts are. What you need to know is that everybody’s in there and all but one per cent are unprotected.
Does bumping into them cause any harm?
No. I don’t know. Bad dreams, maybe? I don’t know. My trainers never had any information on that.
“Aminat,” says Tomi.
“Hmm?”
“Where were you?”
“I miss him, Tomi.”
While they hug, the phone rings, unknown number.
“Hello?” says Aminat.
“Miss Aminat, it’s Bad Fish. Are you alone?”
“I can be. What’s wrong?” Bad Fish never calls except during an urgent situation.
“Miss Aminat, I cannot see Kaaro anywhere.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you, but I don’t exactly have a number for you. Kaaro’s dead.”
“Even dead people have chips,” says Bad Fish.
“It was a really quick Viking funeral. Expedient. He was incinerated. Totally,” says Aminat. Layi gives a thumbs-up.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Accept… my apologies? What am I supposed to say in these situations? I’m not around people much, Miss Aminat.”
“That’s all right.”
“Do you have to be in Rosewater?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, can you go back to Lagos?”
“Why?”
“Rosewater is… quite uncomfortable right now. You might want to take your family, including that boy that has no ID chip, and leave the city behind.”
“I’m chief of security, Bad Fish.”
Bad Fish sighs on the other end, the closest to what Aminat would think of as world-weariness he has ever shown to her.
“I see things, Miss Aminat. It’s not looking good for Rosewater.”
“We’ll survive. We always do. Sometimes with help from our friends. Like you.”
“My advice is to pack up and go to Lagos.”
“Thank you, Bad Fish.”
“There’s one more thing. Kaaro said he had a job for me.”
“I can’t imagine what—”
“Outside Rosewater. With the Nigerian federal government.”
What?
“Why would he be working with—”
“I do not know, but it seemed like some ‘greater good’ shit. I have no idea, but you need to put me in touch with the principals if that work is to go ahead. And I got the impression it was important.”
Femi Alaagomeji. It has to be.
“How can I reach you?”
“If you think of me, I will be there,” intones Bad Fish.
“Are you… also a sensitive?”
“I’m kidding, I’m just kidding. Call this number. It’s only active for forty-eight hours.”
“That’s more than I need. Goodbye, Bad Fish.”
“Au revoir.”
She spins round and almost trips on Yaro. Motherfucker. Kaaro was working with Femi behind her back. It had to be. He went to see her just before she left prison in the prisoner swap. She must have said something to convince him, and he did read her mind. Asshole.
She stops. There’s a red “file received” dot glowing on her palm. Pretty sure it wasn’t there before talking to Bad Fish. She opens the display and it’s a simple text file. Bad idea to open random files, but Bad Fish has never done her wrong.
It’s a letter.
Oh.
Dear Aminat,
Ahh, I don’t know how to write this. I’m probably dead. I’m sorry. I died.
This exists because I’m not just sitting home reading Achebe and feeding Yaro experimental dog food. I’ve undertaken something that might be dangerous. No, it’s definitely dangerous. It may, in fact, be the reason I’m dead. If I died of a stroke or an overdose of heroin while on the toilet seat, that would be embarrassing, because now you have information you don’t need to have. Oops.
I love you. This is the only thing I can say I’m certain of, and the one thing that in my chequered life has been constant. There has never been anyone else for me, Aminat. I’m afraid of dying, but I’m more afraid of being anywhere without you. Now, though, I have to go haunt the afterlife and you have to carry on without me. God, I sound like a civil war soldier writing home.
To the point: I’ve been working with Femi. I wanted to tell you every single moment of every day, but I didn’t want to put you in a position. You took a good-faith job with Jack Jacques’ administration, and spy training or not, Aminat, you’re a bad liar. If you know what I know you’d try to work with me, and with Femi, but you can’t pull off the double agent thing, my darling. I know you. You can’t. I, on the other hand, am an excellent liar.
Here’s the thing: you’re working for the wrong side. I’m sorry, but you are. Jacques is what I’ve always thought, a craven, slimy, adaptable leech who will twist and turn and use the language of justice while fucking Rosewater in the ass without… sorry, sorry. He brings out the worst in me. He’s working for the purpose of the aliens. He is giving them humanity on a platter to maintain power and you are helping him.
I don’t know where you go at night. I could find out if I wanted, but I won’t get in your head without permission. I know you come back beaten up sometimes. I like to think you’re fighting yourself, because the Aminat I know has the best moral compass.
I hid working with Femi, but I need you to know that her mission is not on behalf of herself, or the president, or Nigeria. Femi is trying to save the world, and you’d better recognise that. Recognise, even if you can’t join. Maybe try to bring yourself to not impede her efforts?
This hurts. Right now I hear you moving about in the house, getting ready for work. You’re out of the shower and you’re listening to Bob Marley the way you do. I can smell your perfume. I feel safe with you around. You did keep me safe, Aminat. You did protect me. I stepped out of your protection, out of your ring of fire. I went to a place that was impossible for you to follow because you did not know. Do not blame yourself for my death. Blame me.
I have one last thing to say. I have a plan. If what I have in mind works, I can end this whole problem without death of either human or Homian. I know that’s a solution you’d prefer, so wish me luck.
Tell your brother to keep practising, and please feed my dog.
Goodbye. I love you. Goodbye.
Kaaro
She wasn’t sure that the number would still work, but it does. Protocols established long ago, unsure if still monitored, but remembered perfectly.
“Hello?”
“Speak.”
“I want to speak to Mother,” says Aminat. “I need a colander.”
“Wouldn’t a coffee filter be better?”
“Yes.”
The line goes dead, and Aminat strokes Yaro as she waits for Femi Alaagomeji to make contact.