The Walls of Benin City – M. H. Ayinde

When the last of my water ran out, I knew I’d never reach Benin City.

It was almost a relief to lie down on the parched earth knowing I’d never have to rise again. Never have to worry about food or bandits or infected feet again. At the end, I was almost content. So I curled up, closed my eyes, and gave myself to my death.

            “I have found the survivor,” a voice said, the shadow of its owner falling over me.

            I opened my mouth to explain that I wasn’t a survivor, that I was merely a corpse in waiting, then I felt something cold on my lips, followed by a slow trickle of water.

            “Administering rehydration fluids,” the voice said.

            I opened my eyes. Saw a figure, black against the brightness of the sky. Then I surrendered myself to exhaustion.

#

“… And in the botanical gardens, we have samples of every plant on earth,” the voice said. 

            I drew in a raking breath. Every part of my body hurt, but I felt strangely weightless. I was moving, I realised. Bobbing...

Being carried.

            “Good morning.”

 I found myself looking into a face of living sculpture.

            “Shit!” I croaked, flailing, and the bronze arms that carried me tightened their grip.

            “Please do not be alarmed,” the sculpture said, twisting its face down to look at me. “My name is Eweka. I am a rescue bronze from the City of Benin.”

            I worked my mouth. It was no longer so dry that breathing hurt; still, moving my lips opened the thousand tiny cracks that networked my skin.

            “You’re … an automaton?” I said.

            “Yes,” Eweka replied.

            For a long time, I couldn’t summon the strength to speak, so, I just studied my saviour’s bronze face. Smooth eyes without pupils stared at the distant horizon. A perfect, wide nose tapered down towards a full mouth. A thousand tiny petals formed the sculpted cap of its hair, and as I studied them, I realised they were crafted from even tinier grids of hexagons. Across the bronze’s shoulders lay an intricate mantle of bronze flowers. I saw lilies and hibiscuses and tiny daisies and, as I looked deeper, I realised delicate bronze bees adorned many of the petals. It was like looking into an optical illusion; so dizzyingly perfect that I had to turn away.  

            “We will stop soon,” Eweka said. “And then I would like you to try to eat.”

            Its voice – musical and resonant – issued from somewhere within its chest. Those shapely bronze lips didn’t move, and yet there was nothing sinister in their stillness.

            “You’re … from Benin City,” I whispered.

            “Yes,” Eweka said.

            “Then…” Something in my throat tightened. “I made it?”

Eweka tipped its head to the side and said, “It is not far now.”

I closed my eyes, a thousand thoughts crowding my mind. Was I hallucinating? Perhaps I lay dying back there on the cracked earth, and my mind, in its death throes, had conjured up my salvation in order to soothe me in my passing. The last time I had been certain of where I was, I’d had at least three hundred miles more to cover, and even then I hadn’t been sure I was still heading in the right direction.

I must have dozed, because the next thing I knew, Eweka was shaking me lightly awake.

I lay on the ground, under a sheet of foil, the sun setting in the distance. “This is for you,” Eweka said, holding out a packet. Though the rescue bronze was seated, it looked regal as a king. Dozens of bronze bands encircled its slender biceps, and more bands fell about its neck and throat in widening loops of twisted metal. Its smooth, muscular torso tapered down to a skirt made of more interlocking petals.

I took the packet and tore it open. Shoved the bar into my mouth and chewed. Eweka watched me, and then opened a hatch in its stomach and removed a flask.

“Drink slowly,” it said, handing me the flask.

The bar Eweka had given me was tough, and tasteless, but it felt good to actually eat. I chewed between gulps of gloriously sweet water, and when I had finished the first bar, the bronze handed me a second, its face turned to me all the while.

“What?” I said, chewing.
“I thought you might like to talk,” Eweka said. “I find it helps.”

“Rescued many from the wastes, have you?” 

“Yes,” Eweka said. “You are the seventh person I have saved.”

I looked away. “I don’t feel like talking,” I said.

“Then I shall go first. My name is Eweka. Before the great rescue began, I tended the botanical gardens outside the University of Benin. I like painting, and highlife, and my favourite flower is the night-blooming cereus. Now, you try.”

I stared. What was I going to say? That before the Reapers’ invasion of Earth, I had been a street thief. That while the world fell, I’d hidden. That I’d stood by and watched as the Reapers dragged people I knew into their ships, to take back to their colonies. That afterwards, when I’d emerged into the burned and barren world, I had done whatever it took to reach Benin City. Killed. Stolen. Abandoned the slow in our group. That even that hadn’t been enough to keep my family alive.

And that I didn’t deserve to be the last one standing. 

“Maybe I don’t deserve rescue,” I said, looking away.

Eweka’s face couldn’t move, so how could I say it smiled? But smile it seemed to as it said, “But I was sent for you. Only for you.” 

#

By the next morning, I had regained enough strength to walk, and so I trudged along at Eweka’s side, using its towering bronze body to shelter me from the sun. Even here, so near the heart of the civilisation, all was dust and dirt from horizon to horizon … The Reapers’ final gift to humanity before they fled, leaving behind a ruined world.

In my darkest days, when all the others had died, when I was completely alone and not even sure that I was going in the right direction any more, dreams of Benin City kept me alive. Of course, I had seen it on television – we all had, back in the days when television still existed and Benin City was hailed as the pinnacle of art and artificial intelligence and, of course, of energy wall construction. I used to imagine it shining on the horizon beneath the silvery dome of its walls, an untouched utopia, a Garden of Eden, the last preserve of humanity. But as the weeks and months went on, I found it harder and harder to visualise in my mind. It became a pipe dream; a fantasy. Towards the end, I don’t think I really believed it still stood; I just kept going out of habit.

We had been walking in silence for some time before I turned to Eweka and said, “What were you even doing out here?”

            “Looking for you,” Eweka replied.

            “No, I mean what were you doing out here before you found me?”

            Eweka tipped its head in that way I was beginning to realise was one of its mannerisms. “I was sent to find you. One of our drones spotted you, and I was dispatched to retrieve you.”

            “You don’t even know who I am,” I muttered.

            Eweka straightened. “You are a survivor.”

            As if that explained it all. “Isn’t it …  a waste? I mean, how much are you worth?”

            “How much are you worth?”
            I studied its motionless face, trying to decide if it was joking. “Less than you, I reckon,” I muttered. 

            I slowed as I noticed a shape in the dirt up ahead. A body, I thought. God knows I’d seen enough of those on my journey. So few of us had survived the burning of the planet, and so many of us that had survived had died on the journey to reach Benin City. Sometimes it felt as though I was the only person left alive in the world.

            “It is a warrior bronze,” Eweka said, striding forward.

I approached slowly. I’d never seen one up close before and had not expected it to be so … beautiful. It wore a complex armour of overlapping shells, and a domed, patterned helm. Its face was much like Eweka’s – serene, regal – though the left half had been destroyed, revealing the wires within. I found it hard to imagine a thing of such beauty shooting lasers from its eyes and missiles from its large, square hands.

The Reaper it had fought lay beside it, scarcely a skeleton now, its massive spine and skull lying amidst a nest of rotting flesh and dark blood.

“God,” I said, covering my nose with my hand. “It stinks.” But no flies swarmed the corpse. I hadn’t seen a single insect since the burning of the world. I forced my eyes away from the Reaper, back to the body of the warrior bronze, so glorious even in its shattered state.

“What are all those patterns for?” I asked.

Eweka looked over its shoulder at me. “Likely they were created by this bronze. We are, after all, primarily art.”

“Art?” I said. “A warrior bronze?”

“Yes. In Benin City, artists craft the most beautiful forms and personalities for my kind. Interaction with us is a form of consuming art. What is wrong?”

            “I’m sorry,” I said, trying to rein in my laughter. “I can’t tell if you’re being serious.”

“The sculptor who created me gave me a body and the rudiments of my personality, and I have spent the last decade honing and perfecting all aspects of myself.”

“The last decade. While the world burns, you’ve been honing your art.”

Eweka straightened. “Your tone implies disapproval. You believe art should cease because the world, as you put it, burns.”

“Just seems a waste of everyone’s time,” I said. “And precious resources.”

“Do you know how many warrior bronzes Benin City sent to fight the Reapers?”

“No,” I said, looking away.

“Six million,” Eweka said. “That is how many artificial lifeforms we sent to drive the Reapers back.”

We moved on, walking in silence for a time while I thought about all those warrior bronzes finally repelling the Reapers. How many of them had burned when the Reapers left?

As the sun set, I curled under my foil blanket and watched the horizon. After a time, Eweka leaned towards me and said, “You are not sleeping.”

“I find it hard to sleep these days,” I said.

“Would you like a story, to help settle your thoughts?” Eweka said.

“I’m not a fucking kid,” I replied. Then closed my eyes. I couldn’t see Eweka’s face in the darkness, but somehow I felt I had wounded it. “Just … Just tell me about Benin City,” I said.

“Very well.”  

#

It became a habit… I couldn’t sleep without the sound of Eweka’s voice, and so I had it describe Benin City to me each night as I drifted. It told me of the waterfalls that tumble from invisible energy fields. Of the floating street pedlars selling frozen yogurt and chin-chin. And of the bronzes. Of course, the bronzes, many of them as ancient as Benin City itself; stolen from their homes just as so much of humanity had been stolen by the Reapers, to be paraded as curiosities in their colony worlds. Bronzes stand on every street corner, Eweka told me, and plaques and sculptures adorn every sprawling, white-walled house. I fell asleep to dreams of those wide, beautiful streets. I woke up to the hope of them, just over the horizon. 

Then one morning, I woke to find Eweka standing some distance away from me, facing the rising sun.

“Morning!” I called. Eweka didn’t turn, so I had my usual breakfast of ration bar and condenser-bottle water, and then pushed to my feet.

Eweka started walking as soon as I did, trudging silently ahead. When I caught up, the bronze did not look round.

“Did I annoy you?” I said. I touched the bronze’s arm, but it did not react. I supposed that even walking, talking works of art must have their off days, so I respected Eweka’s silence, but not long after the sun had reached its zenith, the bronze began to slow, and by mid-afternoon, it lifted its leg for a final step that it never took.  

            “Hey!” I said, waving my hands in front of its face. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

            I could hear the soft whirl of the mechanisms within its body, but the thing did not move. “Eweka,” I said. I reached out tentatively. Touched its face. “Eweka. Eweka, please. Come on. You said it’s not far.”

            But it simply stood there, unmoving, unresponsive. Only a sculpture now.

            I wept bitterly all that afternoon. I clung to Eweka’s leg, sobbing like a child. The sun crawled down towards the horizon and I knew that I should move, knew I should carry on, but I couldn’t bear to leave Eweka’s glorious form standing there alone in the wastes.

            When the sun finally set, I wiped my face and pushed to my feet. The wastes are cold at night, and I knew that the longer I delayed, the harder it would be to leave Eweka. I planted a kiss on its bronze cheek, warm from the dying light, and then continued. I did not look back.

#

Days passed. I saw no bandits. No bodies. No life at all. I was alone in all the world. In all of existence.

About a week later, the land fell away up ahead, and my heart soared. This is it, I thought. I’ve made it. I’ve finally arrived.

            I couldn’t help it; I ran the last few metres, but when I reached the edge of the precipice, my stomach turned over.

            Below me lay a city in ruins, its towers fallen, its roads cracked. The remains of its energy wall still flickered on and off, but it was a broken place now, empty and abandoned. So … this was the fate of Benin City.

            I sat down on the edge. Had Eweka been gone so long that its city had fallen? Or had the Reapers returned and done this, determined to stamp out the very last piece of human civilisation? Perhaps Eweka’s programmed mind had erased the fall of Benin City, or perhaps it had always been a fantasy, created within its bronze body. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that there was no haven. There was no final outpost of humanity. There was no being saved.

            I was so lost in my own despair that I did not notice the mechanical whir and thud of footsteps until their owner was nearly upon me.

            “Hello again,” a voice said. I looked up to see a new rescue bronze looming over me. This one was different; though it stood upright, like a human, its head resembled a leopard. An intricate band of tubes encircled its head; like a halo … or a crown.  Its lips were curled upwards in a perpetual smile.

“Shall we continue?” the bronze said. “It is not far now to Benin City.”

            I shook my head, lost for words. Gestured mutely at the ruins in the valley below.

             “That is Akure,” it said. “It fell not long before we drove back the Reapers.”

            When I had collected myself enough to reply, I said, “Is… is that you?”

            “Yes. It is me, Eweka. Do you like this form? It is one of ten I sculpted myself, back home.”

            “I thought you died!” I said.

            “We will retrieve the bronze I call A Confluence of Petals another time.Its most recent backup was sent only two hours before it fell dormant.”

            “You mean … you’re a backup of Eweka?” I laughed. Covered my mouth. Laughed some more. “So what’s this bronze called?”

            “Angelic Feline in Contemplation. Do you like it?”

            “Yes,” I said. I couldn’t stop smiling. “Yes, I love it!”

#

During those final miles, I couldn’t stop talking. I didn’t think there was any hope left in my heart, but I felt such lightness as we crossed the wastes, such joy, that it just came spilling out of me.

            I told Eweka everything. About what I was before the invasion. About what I had become after it. All my shame. All my despair. It poured out of me. I told it the names of my children, and how each of them had died. I told it about the people I had killed over a tin of food. And about how I had watched as the Reapers carried off my neighbour. Eweka listened, nodding sympathetically and offering no comment. And it was right. I did feel better, talking.

            Then came the morning when we crested a hill and utopia lay spread out before me, and for several moments, I couldn’t speak.

I had forgotten what civilisation looked like. But even in the days when I had still known, civilisation had never looked quite as beautiful as this. Benin City filled the land before me, a vast, glittering spread of precious humanity. The city stood within the shimmering dome of its defensive energy wall, a shining oasis of glass towers and lush parks, of broad avenues and bowing palms. From this height, I could see down into its streets, into its gardens and piazzas. 

“I can’t believe how… perfect it is,” I said. “How untouched.”

“This ground knows much about invasion,” Eweka said, and I’m sure I saw pride shining in its bronze eyes. “Once, long ago, the city that stood here was burned by invaders. Now, it is the only thing on earth that still stands.”

I shook my head. How long had I spent imagining this moment? And now it was here, it seemed unreal. Seemed like something from a dream.

“The ancient city that stood here once was also a utopia,” Eweka continued. “No crime. No poverty. A place of art and learning. Its walls were the longest to have ever been built on earth. Now, these energy walls are the earth’s strongest.” Eweka extended its hand. “Come. Let us go home.”

We descended the hill together, me stumbling and tripping as I could not tear my gaze from the city. A network of roads led towards it, radiating outwards like beams of sunlight, like arms extended to every corner of the earth. Calling humanity home.

I noticed a stirring where the energy wall met the dry earth.

“The wall’s moving!” I cried, squinting. Not just moving, I realised. Sowing. Tiny blades of grass sprang to life in the wall’s wake as it slowly ate up the barren land before it.

“Yes,” Eweka replied. “Every day, the walls of Benin City expand. Inch by careful inch, we will reclaim the planet. One day, our walls will embrace the entire earth.”

            I felt a tightness in my throat. Slowly, very slowly, the people of Benin City were terraforming our planet.

            I glimpsed more movement as the wall shimmered, and a number of figures marched out onto one of the roads, in neat formation. It was an army of rescue bronzes, and even from there, I could see that each was as different, each as intricately beautiful, as Eweka’s bronze bodies.

            “More rescues?” I said.

            “Yes,” Eweka said. “Each of them has been sent to rescue a single survivor we have detected.”

            I felt a moment of vertigo. The world had once felt so vast and so empty to me, and yet each of the bronzes I saw now represented a human life. I wondered how far they would walk to bring people home. Eweka had travelled hundreds of miles and sacrificed a whole body to bring me to Benin City. Was the entire earth dotted with abandoned, exquisite bronzes just like Eweka’s Confluence of Petals?

            I followed Eweka down the rubble of the hill, unable to settle my eyes on any single thing, unable to take in the glorious enormity of Benin City, spread out before me. It was only when we had reached the walls and I saw the line of people on the other side, all looking our way, that a sudden fear rooted me to the spot. I looked up at the shimmering expanse, thinking of all those people living peacefully within.

            “What is wrong?” Eweka said, turning.

             “What if they don’t want me?” I said softly, not meeting Eweka’s flat, feline gaze. “After everything I’ve done. What … what if—”

            Eweka placed a bronze hand on my shoulder. Tiny shells decorated each slender finger. “They will want you,” it said. “You are human. You are family.” It turned its hand over. “Would you like to hold my hand?”

            A month ago, I would have laughed at this. But I didn’t this time. Instead, I nodded and took Eweka’s hand, and together we walked through the shimmering walls and into Benin City.

###