Nnedi Okorafor - Lagoon

The woman who was not a woman’s fingertips were in the camera. Again it hit him. Oh God , he thought. He looked into the camera, his brilliant words escaping him. So much of Nigeria was seeing him right now. Even in the most rural places, these days more often than not someone carried a mobile phone or was near a television or a computer.

He sat up straight. This was his time.

“Greetings, Nigeria,” he said. He was strong. He was healthy. His country was seeing him. The world would see him. This was the most positive thing to come out of Nigeria in a long time. Let the world watch , the President thought. Let them see that we are mighty.

“This is a historic moment for our nation,” he began. “For it marks an important milestone in our march towards a maturing democracy.”

The President had never been a great orator. But today, this early evening, he was feeling his words. He was tasting them. They were humming to the rhythm of his soul. He smiled as he spoke. “For the first time since we cast off the shackles of colonialism, over a half-century ago, since we rolled through decades of corruption and internal struggle, we have reached the tipping point. And here in Lagos, we have passed it. Many of you have seen the footage on the internet or heard the news from loved ones. Last night, Lagos burned. But like a phoenix, it will rise from the ashes – a greater creature than ever before.

“The occasion that has put me here before you tonight is momentous. It marks another kind of transitional shift. Now listen closely to me. This shift is cause for celebration, not panic. I will say it again: celebration, not panic. There are others amongst us here in Lagos. They intend to stay. And I am happy about it. They have new technology, they have fresh ideas that we can combine with our own. Hold tight. We will be powerful again, o! People of Lagos, especially, look at your neighbor. See his race, tribe, or his alien blood. And call him brother. We have much work to do as a family.

“Now let me tell you about my own adventure. Then we will get down to business…”

The President spoke of his failure as a president and of the corruption he could not stand up to. He told of his pericarditis and fleeing to Saudi Arabia to die, away from his country. He spoke of his shame. Then he spoke of being healed by Ayodele. He said nothing of her subsequent sacrifice. He wasn’t sure how the people would take it, especially the part about her dissipating into a fog that they’d all inhaled.

He mentioned Adaora, the marine biologist, who would serve as his scientific expert because she’d been up close and studied their… guests. He spoke of Anthony the Ghanaian rapper, explaining that he was the man who “eagerly offers celebrity endorsement from a neighboring country”. The President knew Anthony wouldn’t mind because Anthony didn’t think the world needed to know what he planned to do, he just needed to do it. The President spoke of two soldiers, one named Agu who had interacted closely with the newcomers and developed a rapport with them, and the other the soldier he’d spoken with at length via phone. His name was Hassan and he’d restored order on Victoria Island. These were the trained officials he was appointing to take the lead in keeping everyone safe. All were part of the old world, the President explained, and part of the new world. However, he didn’t say a word about the fact that despite it all, he still felt Agu, Adaora and Anthony were witches. Good witches, but witches nonetheless. Old outdated ways of thinking don’t die easily, and sometimes they don’t die at all.

He warned people to stay away from the waters for now. And then finally he told of his meeting with the Elders. He spoke of aliens amongst the people and he spoke of them as friends.

“Listen to your own hearts and look around you,” he said. “We tore at our own flesh last night, as we have done many times in the past. Now, as we hurt from the pain and loss, let our minds clear. And see.”

Then he spoke of alien technology and how the land would be pure and palm nuts, cocoa and other crops would grow as they never had before. Extinct creatures would return and new ones would appear. Nigeria would have much to give the world – and to show it. “In the coming months, we will set up solid programs. The change will be both gradual and swift.” He paused. “Corruption is dead in Nigeria.” Then he smiled.

The red light went off. The broadcast had ended. The President felt his entire body relax. He was drenched in sweat. His armpits were soaked. He felt damn good.

As the President gave his speech, Adaora stood at a window, looking outside. There were speakers all around the studio; one could hear the broadcast in every room. The others had stayed to watch, but Adaora needed to be alone and gather her thoughts.

There would be meetings with reporters, local, national and international. There would be meetings with government officials and scientists. She’d collect a group of oceanographers and they would go on dangerous dives, document and research in labs, collect samples and creatures (at least the ones who would allow themselves to be collected). Maybe I will even call Moctar Ag Halaye , she thought. The Tuareg diver was one of the best and he’d gone on dives to study great whites many times off South Africa’s False Bay, so monsters didn’t scare him much.

She’d used the office phone to call Chris and the kids, speaking briefly to Chris’s mother before losing the connection. She hadn’t been able to reach them again. There were a lot of people trying to make calls.

But in their brief discussion, her mother-in-law had assured her that they were all OK. In the background, Kola and Fred had asked when she was coming to be with them. “Soon,” she said, and she was telling the truth. But she wouldn’t be able to stay because she had things to do that went beyond motherhood. She would risk never returning to them, every time she explored the dangerous waters. She sighed. What kind of mother am I? And what kind of wife?

“I am a marine witch,” she whispered.

She’d work it out, as her city would work out its alien issue. Adaora leaned against the window frame and her eyes fell on three women standing at a corner beneath a palm tree. They were huddled together, all watching their mobile phones. When the President finished his speech, Adaora observed closely.

The women looked up from their phones and stared at each other. Finally, one of them said something and another nodded. The third was pointing at the ground and laughing.

In the town of Arondizuogu, Agu’s younger brother Kelechi looked out the window of his uncle’s house and watched as the truck full of thugs drove away into the sunset. The thugs must have had mobile phones, too. They must have seen the President’s speech. Maybe they finally understood that people like them were no longer going to rule Nigeria’s present and future.

“ Kai !” his father exclaimed, sitting back on his plush chair. He pulled at his short salt-and-pepper beard. “Part of me wants to think that this cannot be good, but I think it is!”

They had all watched it on his uncle’s television. Kelechi had gazed in astonishment at his cheap mobile phone. He’d seen people in Lagos with their BlackBerries watching videos on the small screens, but he’d never had the privilege of such a thing. What he remembered most was how clear the President had looked, even on the small screen of his flip phone, and how he’d sounded like he was right in the room, speaking personally to Kelechi.

“How can this be good? Aliens?” Kelechi’s wife muttered, setting a bowl of okra soup and gari on the portable table in front of him. Kelechi’s father leaned forward and smiled at the food. He was in a good mood. “They are probably devils,” she added.