Page 53 of Death of the Author

Zelu held her shoulders back, straightened her spine, and lifted her chin. And she didn’t look down. Looking down always fucked with her gait and center of gravity. The exos would do what they needed to do. She had to believe that with fanatic-level faith in this moment. To fall in front of her family would be the definition of disaster.

“Hi, everyone,” she said, a lump already in her throat.

“Chey!Tufiakwa,” she heard her father mutter, shrugging his shoulders for emphasis. “I don’t know about this. It’s a lot for even me.”

Her oldest sister unleashed the demons first. “Zelu, what is wrong with you!? Do you care about this family at all?”

“Why should she care?” her mother shrilled. “She has always done whatever she wants. How do you think she fell out of that tree in the first place?”

A spear to her heart. She took a step backward, her right leg wobbling. She caught herself, hoping no one noticed.

“Oh, Mom, come on,” Tolu said, coming in behind Zelu. “Seriously!”

Her mother looked away, waving a hand as if to dismiss the harshness of her own words.

“Can you blame Mom, though?” Amarachi snapped. “You snuck away for a wholemonth!”

“‘Snuck’?” Zelu snapped. She had to work to keep her voice down. “I told you where I was going. Andagain, I’m thirty-five years old!”

“And youlivehere,” her mother shouted. “This isn’t a hotel! And we are your family! You didn’t call once. You left no information about where you were! We had to find that professor you worked with ourselves! What if something had happened to you?! You can’t walk! Jesus, o!”

Zelu would have laughed at this if she weren’t shaking so much. She grabbed the doorframe. “Well, Icannow!”

Chinyere jumped up, a cruel smile on her face. She motioned with a hand at the way Zelu was gripping the doorway for support. “Thatis not walking. That’s being dragged around with robot legs like some freak! Like something in a Dr. Seuss book! And now the whole world’s seen it and is talking about it! Even in Nigeria!”

Her mother burst into tears. “Why have you shamed your family? In the face of God!”

Her father got up, and for one stupid second Zelu thought he might defend her, but he just put his arms around his wife, soothing her.

“So selfish,” Bola said quietly. “Aren’t you happy with who you are? Isn’t the whole novel thing enough?”

Zelu just stood there. Tired and shaky, she needed to sit down. No one offered her a seat. No one asked what it had all been like. They were supposed to be happy with the results of her experience.Shewas. Had been. They could never understand. But after all this, she had wanted her family to approve.

“I should have called,” she said. “Yeah, I should have...” She frowned. She needed to sit down so badly. She didn’t have the energy to fight this, to fight them. And theywereright, to an extent. Maybe. Her sudden success and growing independence had upset the balance of the family.

She bit her lip and turned to head toward her room. No one stopped her, but she could feel their eyes scrutinizing her every robotic step. When she reached her room, she heard them start talking again. About her. About how the family should handle all the “hype” and gossip. About the video. About how Zelu looked. About what they would say to the Nigerian community, their friends, their coworkers. Zelu was a shame, a stain, needed to be managed, or the family would look sooooooo bad.

She shut her bedroom door. Everything in her body wanted to shake itself into a pile of parts and ash. Yet she had not fallen. She was getting good at using the exos. And she hadn’t crumbled into a panic attack. No ground was rushing toward her. No racing heart. No foggy mind. War-torn, but okay.

She exhaled, her eyes falling on a beat-up, well-read advance copy ofRusted Robotson her desk. “It’s time to move out.”

In the morning, she woke up staring at the ceiling. She grabbed her phone, muttering, “Fuck this.” She dialed. Before it had fully rung once, Msizi picked up.

“You’re home?” he said.

“Yeah,” she said, suddenly anxious. She hadn’t actually expected him to answer. She’d missed the sound of his voice.

“You’re part robot now?” he flatly asked.

She laughed. “Yeah.”

“I saw it on social media.” He paused. “I’ve wanted to call you.”

“I’ve wanted to call you, too.”

“I’ve missed you.” His voice was soft but purposeful. “I should have seen you through this, even if it was strange. I’m sorry.”

Zelu grinned, her heart lifting as relief flooded through her. At least she still had him. “It’s not that strange.”

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