Nnedi Okorafor - Lagoon

Adaora went cold. “What? What do you mean?”

Agu nodded. “Exactly! I’m not a weak man. I exercise, keep myself in shape. And I’ve had my share of fights. But… he went flying . Because I hit him. Then for a while, he didn’t move. The rest of my ahoa descended on me for that. They beat me like a dog and left me unconscious on the side of the road. I must have lost my mobile phone then, so—”

The sound of the television interrupted their conversation. Anthony had switched it on for Ayodele, who had moved to the sofa. She sighed softly when the picture appeared.

On the TV, as a breaking news banner scrolled across the bottom of the screen, a newscaster in fashionable dress pants and a white blouse stood on what could only have been Bar Beach. The wind was blowing and military personnel behind her were setting up barriers.

“Witnesses on Bar Beach are saying that just after 9 p.m. they heard an earth-shaking explosion that seemed to roll up from the water like a tidal wave,” the newscaster was saying. “People are reporting broken windows in cars and buildings. A few people say they’re even experiencing hearing loss. There’s no sign of terrorist activity yet, but here to discuss the issue is Lance Corporal Benson Shehu, who is on the scene.”

Beside her stood a stern-looking Hausa man in sharp military dress, his green beret perched on his head like a fixture. He rested a hand on his hip, as if he were working hard to stand up straight.

Agu pointed at the television. “That’s him! That’s my—”

“Shhh shhh shhh,” Anthony hissed, frowning.

“You also happen to be the President’s nephew,” the newscaster on TV added.

“Yes, but that is mere coincidence and irrelevant to the issue,” Benson snapped. He winced visibly, pressing below his ribs.

The newscaster nodded as Benson looked into the camera and squinted as if he were looking into the sun. “There is no destruction or, or anything like that. It was not a bomb. It seems to be some sort of sonic blast. Erm… noise from the breaking of the sound barrier. Something like that. This is not a suicide bomber. We have never had that nonsense in Lagos. But we are treating this as an attack ,” he said.

“An attack? Against Nigeria?”

“Yes,” he said, turning to the newscaster.

“By who?”

“We don’t know,” he said. “We don’t know anything. But did the Americans know who destroyed their World Trade Towers when it first happened?”

The newscaster nodded. “Good point. But that brings me back to my question about the President. Where is he? Will he be giving—”

“By morning, we hope to know more,” Benson interrupted. “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.” He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “In this case, where there is noise, there is a source. For now, we are advising people to continue going about their business. Act normal, no need for wahala …”

“They don’t know anything,” Adaora said with a wave of her hand, returning to her microscope.

“I agree,” Agu said, following her back to the counter. “And if Benson did, he’s too dumb to process it. The President needs to come back. The last person they want in charge of what’s happening on Bar Beach is Benson, trust me. Why is he the one they’re interviewing?”

Adaora shrugged. “Looks like you did his body some damage, though.”

“The man earned it.”

“At least you know you didn’t kill him.”

Agu looked into Adaora’s microscope as she scribbled more notes in her notebook.

“They can be anything and are nothing,” she said, as she wrote. “Basically, she’s a shape-shifter.” She smiled. “I wish my grandmother were alive to see this.”

“Why’s that?”

“She was always sure the markets were full of them, witches, shape-shifters, warlocks, things like that. This would blow her mind, sha .” She suddenly snapped her fingers, making Agu jump. “Ah-ah, what kind of technology must they have ?”

“Do they even need it?” Agu asked. “I mean, in a way, they are technology. They can cha—”

Someone came running down the stairs.

“What is… Adaora, who are these people?” Adaora’s husband Chris demanded. He still wore the jeans and wrinkled dress shirt he’d been wearing when they’d fought. As he moved down the stairs, he cut an intimidating figure, despite the fact that he’d been eating nothing but bread and water for the last two weeks. He slipped on the bottom step, cursing as he grabbed the banister and caught himself. Adaora groaned, mortified and feeling ill. Anthony didn’t bother hiding his amusement as he laughed aloud and muttered, “ Kwasiasem . Nonsense.”

Chris glared at Agu, who was standing beside Adaora. Agu stepped away from her and Adaora flinched.

“While I’m asleep ?” Chris said, striding up to Adaora. “In my own house? With our children right upstairs?!”

Adaora spotted her five-year-old son Fred and eight-year-old daughter Kola peeking down from the top of the stairs. “Jesus,” Adaora whispered. She wanted to bring their presence to Chris’s attention but he was in too much of a rage. Adaora had managed to hide their physical altercation hours ago from the kids; she didn’t want to push her luck. Even if he didn’t hit her in front of them, he might bring the children into the argument. He’d done it a year ago, calling Kola into the room to ask her opinion about Adaora’s refusal to stop listening to “filthy types of music”. Poor Kola, who didn’t want to speak against her father or her mother, had begun to cry. No , Adaora thought now. Better he not notice the children.

Behind her children crouched Philomena, the house girl, who should have been keeping them upstairs. A soft-spoken, chubby girl in her twenties, Philo had less and less control over Fred and Kola these days. Adaora shelved this fact for another time.

“Chris,” Adaora pled. “It’s not…” She flinched as Chris raised his hand to slap her for the second time in three hours.

“You… you don’t want to do that,” Agu said, stepping in front of her. He sounded very unsure of himself.

Chris blinked, sizing Agu up. Agu may have had a raw face but he was wearing a military uniform, he was taller, and he looked stronger. But Agu’s demeanor clearly said that he didn’t want to fight Chris at all. Chris lunged at Agu.

“CHRIS! STOP IT!” Adaora shouted, jumping back.

Agu easily threw Chris aside. He raised his hands. “Please,” he begged. “Just listen. I don’t—” But Chris got up and went for Agu again, throwing a punch and missing completely. Agu stepped to the side and clocked him one in the back of the head. Chris stumbled to the lab table, knocking test tubes into the sink and onto the floor.

“Shit,” Agu hissed, distraught. “Not again, please not again!”

“Come on,” Philo said, grabbing the children’s hands and pulling them away.

“Na wetin dis?” Anthony said, stepping forward and hauling Chris to his feet. “Let it go, chale . Are you mad?!”

When Agu saw that Chris was still conscious, he sighed loudly with relief, bending forward to rest his hands on his knees.

Chris snatched his arm from Anthony and stood up on shaky legs, his nose bleeding. He glared at Adaora with that same hatred she’d seen hours ago just before he leaped on her. He opened his mouth to say something but instead cringed at the sound of metal balls on glass. “Eeeee!” he screeched. Adaora dug her nails into her thighs. Agu squeezed his face, pressing his hand to his mouth as he resisted the urge to grind his teeth. “Oooooh,” Anthony moaned, feeling nauseous. If any of them had turned to look at Adaora’s giant aquarium, they’d have seen the cowfish dart forward and smash into the glass, the shrimp fall to the aquarium floor, and several other fish swim in confused circles. It was a sound never heard on earth until this night.