Page 120 of Death of the Author

I was silent. Stunned. I’d been focused on my plan. I’d missed when the countdown accelerated. No one else evenhadthe countdown application Udide had given me. No one had ever asked for it.

“What makes you think something so unprecedented is going to behave according to the only laws you know? How egocentric. How human.”

I stepped aside as Udide began to move past me.

“Days?” Koro Koro asked faintly.

“Yes,” Udide said. “Ten. Maybe less. It is unpredictable now.”

“Oh,” Shay said.

I had lost Ijele for nothing. I felt like a failure. “You really think it hopeless?” I asked.

“Your victory was major, even genius... but it was minor. You Humes aren’t nearly as intelligent or innovative as the NoBodies, and you’re greatly outnumbered. You’ll be defeated eventually. Easily. But before all of that, because automation has done nothing but focus on its comparatively small battles, the Trippers will destroy this planet, and all that’ll be left are the Chargers in space smart enough to resist the song of the sun and travel away from this doomed planet.”

I watched Udide go. The Humes who’d been about to pull me apart had all fled. I hadn’t even noticed when they did.

“I’m sorry, Ankara,” Shay said.

“Nothing to be sorry about, Shay,” I said.

Koro Koro gazed at me, clearly still suspicious. Before it had taken a Hume body, it had been designed by humanity to anticipate attacks and strategize defenses. “It seems there’s use for you still, General.”

48

Family Ties

Zelu landed at O’Hare airport on a Saturday and ordered an autonomous vehicle straight to her parents’ house. She knew she couldn’t put it off any longer. Every day, everyhourshe didn’t do this made the situation worse. #Adventure was going to send out a press release with her name in three days, the mission was in less than a month, and her family had no idea.

As she stepped up on the sidewalk, she felt her heartbeat in her ears. She paused at the door, her key in her hand, tugging at her pink-and-red Ankara top. With a sigh, she looked back at the driveway. Chinyere’s black BMW, Tolu’s white Honda SUV, Bola’s new red Tesla, and Amarachi’s tiny blue smart car were sitting there. At least Uzo wasn’t here; she’d record the entire thing and post it on the family WhatsApp, where the conversation would continue via text. Not that that was the worst of Zelu’s concerns. The most vocally critical siblings were right inside.

As she pushed the door open, Uzo pulled it from the inside. She must have ridden in with someone else. Zelu wanted to groan, but forced a smile instead. “Hey,” she said. “Where’s your car?”

“Tolu’s going back to his office tonight, so he gave me a ride.”

“Ah, that explains it,” Zelu said, stepping inside. So everyone was here. Great. She went to see her mother first.

“Mom,” she said, entering her mother’s bedroom. Her mother was sitting in her La-Z-Boy armchair. On TV was an old tennis match between Serena Williams and some poor victim who had no chance. She wore her favorite maroon nightgown, and her locs were tied on top of her head.

“Zelu,” she said, grinning with a warmth that Zelu felt in her bones. “Where are you coming from?”

“The airport.”

Her mother gave her a curious look but didn’t press for more information. “How’re you doing?”

“Okay.”

“Is it true that you’re working on the next novel?”

Zelu almost laughed; this could be method writing, she supposed. “Not really. But I think I’m on my way to it.”

“Finally.”

“Whatever, Mom.”

Her mom gave her a deep, knowing look. “I want to read it. Many do.”

Zelu worried her lip between her teeth. “I know, Mom. But it’s hard.”

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