Anna tried to kill me today.
It happened around noon, on the concrete roof of what used to be 241 Artillery Battalion’s administrative block.
Lying naked, spread-eagle, on a camp bed I had retrieved from a store downstairs, I could feel solar radiation flowing into my body with no interference, save for the shadow cast by the rare cloud that sailed across the sun’s face now and then. Even though I came for the sun, I enjoyed the intrusion of stray clouds. A brief splash of icy water was what those brief moments reminded me of. The thought caused me to smile. There was nothing truly icy about the shadows cast by cumulus clouds, especially for someone who has spent 48 hours chained to the tracks of a polar exploration vehicle in the South Pole.
I shivered as I remembered and felt goose bumps spreading across my body. Even now, the dread remained. My body had adapted to the cold, but it was a slow process. Very painful too. I had hated the cold before that training trip, but it solidified it. It was funny, my feelings, because my body wouldn’t have adapted to intense heat that well. It could endure pain more than most people, but my body won’t change fast enough before being devoured by fire. In Antarctica, my body had started producing a slime from my sweat glands as soon as we left the confines of the plane that brought us, and by the time they had me chained to the tracks, it had thickened and offered protection from the wind. What remained was to endure the pain that came with my body adapting to the subzero temperature.
I opened my eyes and felt my pupils adapt to the light instantly. Bored, I started counting the clouds.
I must have dozed off because when I woke up, I was standing by the edge of the concrete roof thinking how lovely it would be to fly with the birds, to give it all up to the freedom of the sky. I felt wings, powerful wings, on my back. I felt them beat. I tested their strength; knew they would carry my body. I bent my knees, readying to fly towards the sun. It was then that another sense began to question how I had all of a sudden developed wings. It was dream-like, the state I was in, but clarity came with the sharp pain that came from where my toes pressed into the tar that lined the edge of the roof. The midday heat had softened the tar to a state that wasn’t yet liquid, but soft enough to encase my toe and transfer heat to it. I jerked my leg back, that motion pulling me away from the edge of the roof. I bent to rub off some of the tar that clung to my toes.
A soft moan behind me caused me to turn sharply.
Anna was standing in front of the roof access hatch. She stood there, not moving, staring at me. Her pupils were dilated to an extent I had never seen before and the milky white spittle clinging to the corners of her mouth reminded me of something wild. She was looking at me but seemed to see into and through me. It took all my strength to walk across the distance between us as the wings I then realised were imaginary, again reared from my back and the urge to fly became stronger. I got to within touching distance and found that I couldn’t take another step. It was as if I had encountered a wall, a wall of compressed air.
Thinking fast, I tried to move sideways and found I could. I took 4 steps to the right and tried moving forward again and found there was no restriction even when I got adjacent to her. I tried approaching her from the side but encountered the same restriction when I got two metres close to her.
“Of course, she has an invisible wall protecting her,” I thought.
I manoeuvred around until I was sure that the gentle breeze I could feel on my skin would carry from me to her, and opened the pores behind my ears as far as they could go. Hot liquid seeped from behind my ears. Soon enough, I felt the compulsion leaving my mind and when I pushed my hands forward, the resistance they encountered was akin to pushing through water. Anna’s eyes snapped open as I reached her, her lips parting for a kiss. She couldn’t have dodged the slap had she seen it coming. I left her on the hot decking, writhing in pain.
I climbed into the building and the further away I got from the access hatch, the fainter I could still sense the wings on my back.
As I turned into the former brigade commander’s office that I had converted into a bedroom, the last of the wing beats faded from my mind. Where love once existed, a hollow thatholds anger now existed.
In one corner of the room, a large wardrobe held my knives, guns, and other implements of my trade. I shrugged and walked towards it, my thoughts focusing my anger into a featureless white void.
In my world, the world of assassins and spies, the code was simple: kill or be killed
***
The first day I met Anna, I was following my eyes. My eyes were following her.
As I placed the pad of one foot in front of the other in that sure-footed waltz that was part natural and part result of the years of stealth training, I could hear my heart beating within its cage. How that was possible amidst the buzzing of traffic and electro-fuji emanating from a music mart opposite the busted-up traffic pillbox about 50 metres ahead of me didn’t matter to me. Truth was, it was normal for me to hear my heart beating, and I would be very surprised if I couldn’t under the prevailing circumstance. My heart was not so different from the average human’s. Yes, there are some differences—all genetically enhanced humans are different in one way or the other—but I guess it’s not so strange that I could quicken or slow the rate of my heartbeat at will, considering all the differences between one person and the next: how fingers could be shorter or longer, skin hues that are darker or lighter and eyes in more shades than you could count.
There are other things that make me different. Like the liquid that I could feel was about to spill down the back of ears; like my eyes that could pick out a single pin from hundreds of meters away; like my ears that could hear sounds almost as well as a dog could; like how I have never met any stronger than me; like many other things about me.
There is something else about me, something more personal, secret. It was the reason I was following the lady I came to know as Anna down a street in Oshodi.
I had been following her for about ten minutes—ever since I spotted her as I stepped down from the shuttle that brought me into the city centre from my home in the suburbs. No, I had never seen her before, but I had always been a victim of my wandering eyes. Once my eyes saw and lusted, my legs followed.
I was struggling to control my heart, which was pumping hard, a consequence of the hot flush that had just then begun moving from my chest towards my groin. The hot flush threatened to become an agonising heat with each step I took to close the gap between my query and me.
I walked a little faster. The heat spread across my middle, clawing deeper. My fingers itched and I didn’t need to squeeze them to know they were slick with sweat.
I tried to blank my mind, to clear it, but I could taste the salt on her skin and her musk filled my nose. I frowned at the futility of my actions as I scrunched my nose, trying to stop the sensory overload that my gifts cursed me with.
It didn’t work. The image that I was sure was her face enlarged in my mind. I felt sweat drip from my armpits to soak into my loose-fitting cotton shirt. From the back pocket of my tight jean trousers, I pulled out a rose-scented kerchief and wiped both palms before dabbing my forehead and neck, paying close attention to the back of my ears. I hoped the mix of rose perfume and alcohol neutralised my pheromones as well as it was supposed to.
Ahead of me, my query jumped across an uncovered manhole.
I looked away.
I felt my heart slowing down as I regained control. I lengthened my stride, hoping to reach the next shuttle stop in time to catch the same bus with her, if that was her aim.
The crowd was thick near the shuttle stop with shoppers coming from or going across the road to the twenty-five-storey plaza that housed Oshodi market. The escalator that looped across the 8-lane road appeared to have broken down again, for the traffic cops were guiding shoppers across the busy traffic. A snarl was building up and the impatient horns of drivers, the shouts of anger, the curses flying back and forth, reminded me of why I moved to the suburbs.
I lost her in the crowd. I had expected that possibility and had even worked out a plan to mitigate it, but a sudden fight between a street vendor and a municipal worker caused the traffic on the walkway to stop moving as people stopped to watch. Thus hindered, I found I had to use all my senses to track her. My sense of smell had always been my strongest sense, and it had served me well in the past. I pushed through the crowd and sniffed the air along the route I thought she may have used. I caught it, that light musk—her personal scent, one I had filed away in my mind. It wafted through the air, fuller in front of me and fainter behind. I felt the heat returning as my blood began warming again.
I followed my nose.
I could see the two shuttle bays, hardened plastic structures that the government built for passengers waiting to board the new solar-powered shuttles. As I stepped over the broken chairs that littered the first bay, a testament to a gang war a few days prior, her musk overwhelmed my nose. She was there. On the other side of the second shuttle bay. I could sense her, even though I couldn’t see her.
I walked across the space between the two bays, pushing through the people milling around. I stopped when I was sure I was opposite her, and turned, slowly, for effect.
She wasn’t looking my way.
Though her face was averted, her stance allowed me a view of her side and front.
She was tall like me and wore flat-bottomed shoes; perhaps also abhorring the need for added height that caused many to become addicted to high heels and the sprained ankles that came with them. I had noted her shaven head before but had not realised she was bare-chested. Elaborate tribal-inspired body paint on her chest and stomach and tight combat trousers that hung low on her waist protected her modesty, somewhat. I had noted her bare back as I tracked her but had expected one of those adhesive bust claspers that were in-vogue. Instead, a pair of multiple tasered drooping earrings that flowed down to her chest to clip to gold-coloured nipple claspers adorned her bosom. I couldn’t say for sure if the earrings were holding up her breasts or if her breasts retained their teenage tautness, the way cosmetic surgeons have long promised. My appreciative eyes scanned downwards, again taking in the contrast between her covered legs and naked torso. Most people who adopted the painted body fad mostly went full natural, letting the patterns do what they can for modesty. I scanned upwards again, beholding taut jaws and well-defined ears.
Just then, she turned towards me. I stepped back, surprised. The face she wore was the one I’d pictured—the very same one I’d imagined smiling back at me as I tracked her a few minutes ago. I gave faces to my queries when I had nothing to work with or when the face they possess was not dramatic enough for me. But seldom was the face I give such an accurate replica of the real person—especially someone I had never seen before.
The corners of her eyes narrowed and her lips drew apart in a sardonic smile.
“Hi Alpha, nice for you to finally catch up,” she said in the same voice I’d imagined she would have.
“What did you say?” I muttered before I could stop myself.
“You appear shocked,” she said. “Don’t tell me you’ve never met a mind reader before?”
Lost for words, I gaped at her, my shock turning to embarrassment.
She smiled again, turned and started walking towards a shuttle that had just pulled up. I discovered that my feed was laden. Rooted to the spot, I watched her get on the shuttle and the transparent doors closed behind her as she waved at me.
[Learn how to mask your mind, Anuli. For someone of your skills, that shouldn’t be difficult. And I am not gay.]
It was her voice in my mind; I was sure. She had turned around and was looking at me, her lips curved in a sardonic smile. I stood there, looking at the shuttle until it turned the corner towards Mushin and was gone.
Interlude
Dr. Zainab Dangiwa. Sector 9. Psychoanalyst, Eko Central.
Tape of session with Anuli Ezilo, better known as Agent Alpha.
Tape will play in 5…4…3…2…1…
Dr. Dangiwa: Start by introducing yourself. Please feel free to say anything else you would want me to know about you.
Alpha: They call me Anuli, my parents I mean. Everyone else calls me Alpha. I am a mutant. No, not one of those comic book varieties that movies make so much money from. I am a mutant all the same. My parents are both genetic engineers. They used to be employed by the government. They topped their respective classes at a time when selective gene engineering was still acceptable and encouraged. You know, the idea that people could be bred for a specific purpose had always been around. Some governments and people with the means and drive have always tried to propagate a desired trait, to breed humans the way animals are bred. My parents’ marriage was government-sanctioned, to produce the next generation of super scientists, only they produced me. Though my parents claimed to have fallen in love during the course of their ‘forced’ marriage, I was not conceived the natural way. I was cultivated. Yes, cultivated, created in a test tube, or whatever they used, and traits were added to boost what I already had.
Dr. Dangiwa: It says in your file that you are no longer living at home and that you have ‘no fixed address’. This anger at being ‘created’ as opposed to being procreated, is that why you left home? Are you angry at your parents? Do you hate your parents?
Alpha: I don’t know. I don’t know if I am angry or if I hate my parents. You know between them they were responsible for over fifty thousand genetically engineered children before the civilians closed the labs? Over fifty thousand handed over to the military and they chose to keep me. I mean, I was the only one they raised as their child. I think that counts for something, doesn’t it?
Dr. Dangiwa: But they are your parents, in every sense of the word. Emeka Ezilo’s sperm fertilised the egg produced by Kemi Ezilo, who opted to carry the child to term when surrogate machines and humans were better alternatives.
Alpha: You think I don’t know that? The truth is that it does not change the fact I was engineered and that my genetic structure was tampered with…
Dr. Dangiwa: I take it you refer to your claim that your parents removed the X chromosome to ensure you are born female.
Alpha: Why do you people insist on calling it a claim? My father admitted it… he did not deny it.
Dr. Dangiwa: But he did not confirm it either. What is your relationship with your mother like?
Alpha: My mother does not talk to me. I have not spoken to her in three years.
Dr Dangiwa: And your father?
Alpha: My father… umm… I don’t know. I don’t know what my father thinks. He calls me every week. He wants to know how I am. I tell him I am ok, to stop calling if the process is hurtful, but he calls all the same. Why are you smiling, doctor?
Dr. Dangiwa: Your abilities, it says here that you call them ‘powers’. Why do you think they are powers? Doesn’t that, to use your words, sound comic-book-like?
Alpha: What else are they? I can make you want me so bad you’d do anything to have me, and I mean anything. That is power… are you scared of me, Doctor?
Dr. Dangiwa: I have a record of your abilities here. Your file from military intelligence is impressive. That brings me to my next question. Why did you leave the army? Your file says you liked the army.
Alpha: Doctor, you did not answer my question.
Dr. Dangiwa: Your handlers say, and I quote, “Alpha was happiest when she was on a mission and the problem we had was ensuring that there was something for her to do.” If you love what the army offers that much, why did you leave?
Alpha: I see you’re one of the professional ones. Okay, okay. I liked the army. I still do. Doctor, why are you not looking at me?
Dr Dangiwa: So why did you leave?
Alpha: Just because I could.
Dr. Dangiwa: Will you go back to the umm… the… army?
Alpha: No.
Dr. Dangiwa: What about your umm… parents… will you go back home?
Alpha: No.
Dr. Dangiwa: So, what do you want to do? You are young, you can do anything…
Alpha: I just want to live on my own terms. The Army lets me do what I want as long as I am willing to do this and that for them once in a while, but what I really want is to be free…
Dr. Dangiwa: But is that not freedom, to be allowed to do what you want most of the time?
Alpha: No, not if someone had specially engineered every fibre that makes you who you are for a purpose. Not if you are me.
Dr. Dangiwa: I won’t pretend to understand all you are saying. However, there is this other question of your sexual orientation. The Army file says you are attracted to women but insist on being referred to as straight. Why is that?
Alpha: I am surprised you asked that question, especially if you are aware of how my father manipulated my genes. Anyway, I am not gay; I am.
I followed my heart
My heart took me home
It was noon when I alighted from the municipal shuttle. I waited for the shuttle to turn the corner at the end of the street, checked that no one was looking, and then leaped over the 12-foot fence separating the old shooting range from the rest of the suburb.
The shooting range has always been here. It was here first, like all military live-fire training ranges, built far away from human habitation. The town had encroached. It ate the outer parameter of the range, flats and tenements creeping inwards until only the cluster of buildings that served as administration offices for the old range remained.
The military still owned the buildings, and the perimeter fence was meant to keep out intruders. The intelligence service leased it to me when I needed to lie low after my last mission three years earlier. Yeah, it was three years since I went AWOL. Well, not necessarily AWOL. The army knew where I was and how to find me. I knew about the move by some civilians, realtors, to lobby the government to take the land from the army and sell it to them. The army brass was still holding out, but I knew they would buckle. Not that I minded. One of the more forceful realtors represented my interests.
The 12-foot fence I scaled was the smaller of the obstacles designed to keep intruders at bay. I was getting ready to scale the second obstacle, a thirteen-foot electrified chain-link fence, when the sense that I wasn’t alone nagged at me. Not one to ignore my senses, I extended all six.
I followed my nose
There, from a copse of trees, a whiff of musk. I tasted the air: salt, sweat.
I stood. Still. Waiting.
Soon enough, she walked out from among the trees. She was smiling. It wasn’t a fun sight. My senses were acting up; they do that when a threat is nearby. I looked at her hands; she was clasping a semi-automatic pulse pistol. I noted the make and calibre. One shot from it wouldn’t kill me, but it would carry a punch sufficient to stop me long enough for her to kill me.
[Not true. I don’t need the pistol to kill you; I can do that with my mind.]
I ignored her voice in my mind.
“What do you want?” I asked, immediately wondering why I did not ask how she found me, or how she got into the compound.
She did not respond. She stood there, looking me in the eye, smiling like someone who just won a bet. “Are you reading my mind?” I asked, not for any reason. I just wanted her to talk, to say something, anything.
[Your thoughts, they scream. I want you to stop screaming. It’s like shouting when you talk, only louder. Take this morning, for instance; I could hear your thoughts even before you directed them to me. After I met you, I could hear them from across the city. What are you? Why do you scream your thoughts?]
I did not know how to respond. Her hearing my thoughts was bad enough not to talk of them screaming across the city. “What are you?” she had asked. It was a question that was also on my mind.
“Can you please stop talking in my head?” I said, trying to keep my mind blank.
“Okay,” she said as she moved to stand in front of me. “My name is Anna. You obviously were not trained to deal with someone with my ability.”
She said it in an offhand manner, the same way I would introduce myself to someone in my unit, or a fellow mutant. I knew about telepaths, but never heard about anyone with the range of telepathy she claimed. She could be lying, but I doubted it. She could read my mind clearer than any of the military-level telepaths could. I scanned her body, seeking for unit tattoos. There was none—beyond the body paint, the combat trousers and ear to nipple rings, she was unadorned. However, that indicated nothing; they could well be hidden under her paint, an intricate meshwork of Nsibidi scripts, drums and tribal masks.
“I was never in the army, Anuli, but like you, I was trained to hone my ability. Unlike you, I only have one. Do you really mean to do to me those things you thought of? No, don’t answer that.”
“Please don’t call me Anuli. I don’t use that name anymore. My name is Alpha!” I said, wondering how deep in my mind she had gone to get my given name, which only exists in the birth certificate that must still be in my father’s home office drawer.
She laughed. I struggled not to think how rich her laughter sounded.
[I could teach you to mask your thoughts, you know?]
“Stop talking in my head.” I was furious and getting madder by the second. “Why did you come here?”
“I have questions. One is to ask if it was just to grab my hips and thrust a strap in me that you followed me this morning, and how do you intend to achieve that?” The way she said it infuriated me. She said it the same way she would have asked how I took my coffee. I was the hunter here. Why was a girl giving me the runaround?
Ok, you’re a telepath. You know what I wanted when I saw you. You know what I want now. So why are you still here?
[I got curious, and your thoughts kept screaming in my head. I wanted to tell you to stop shouting, so I followed your thoughts here].
“Okay, fine. How did you get in?” I asked.
“I used the gate. Don’t worry, it was locked. I know about codes.”
“Or you picked a specialist’s mind?”
[My power doesn’t work that way. I only hear the thoughts of someone when I touch them or if I have a connection to them. Lovers, friends, family or people who are directing their thoughts at me. To read your mind, I have to touch your forehead.]
“So, how come you can read my mind?” I spoke aloud, unable to shake the nagging fact that the whole conversation we’d been having was lame and that she was in control.
“That’s the question I wanted answered. I’d never seen you before. Then, suddenly, your voice was in my mind, sending me sexual depravity. Is it always about sex with you?”
I looked at her, at the shaven head, the luminous body paint, the nipple rings and her relaxed stance and knew. This was all camouflage. Her appearance was all bluster. I decided to test my theory and took two steps forward, trying my best not to think about my next move. I leaned forward and kissed her. At first, she did not respond, even tried to push me away, but as my pheromones started dribbling from the ducts behind my ears, she grabbed me. “I hope I didn’t use more than necessary,” I thought as I pulled back from her.
“Not here,” I said.
As I picked her up and leapt across the electric fence, I felt my control returning.
Interlude
Axis Insurance recorded meeting between Agent Alpha and John Moses. Tape obtained by military intelligence. Tape to play in 3, 2, 1, 0…
Mr John Moses: Please sit down, Miss Ezilo. Welcome to Axis Insurance.
Alpha: Please call me Alpha.
Mr Moses: Okay, Alpha. I have been looking at your health policy and want to be very clear of the claims. You request for a full body swap, female to male, for your present body to be kept in stasis until the male clone is ready for transplanting, for the female body to be returned to stasis afterwards and for your…erm…partner to also be placed in stasis until after your successful transfer.
Alpha: It says my wife in the document, not partner.
Mr Moses: Yes, it does, but I don’t…
Alpha: Are you homophobic, John?
Mr Moses: No, I am not! Why would you say that? You know it is against the law to be homophobic.
Alpha: It is against the law to do or be a lot of things, but that doesn’t stop them from happening.
Mr Moses: Well, I am not homophobic. I can’t afford to be in my line of work. The thing is, I always find it difficult saying “husband and wife” for same-sex couples. I mean, who is the wife and who is the husband? But let’s not argue about that. The terms of your health policy actually used the term “husband”. So, we’re finding it difficult to accommodate her.
Alpha: That’s bullshit. Wife, husband, partner—Semantics, that’s all they are. You want to tell me that Axis Insurance does not cover same-sex relationships? That’s illegal, Mister…
Mr Moses: No, no, no… don’t get me wrong. Axis covers everything. Just last year, after the government approved marriages between humans and other species, we immediately changed our policies to reflect that. It would be bad business practice to discriminate. The thing is the wording of an insurance policy is very important. In insurance, semantics is king.
Alpha: So…
Mr Moses: So, while the policy covers you completely, it does not cover your par… erm…wife. However, since the army covered your policy and graciously paid your premium, a go-ahead letter from them would serve here.
Alpha: You want me to get a letter from the army before you honour your commitment?
Mr Moses: Miss Ezilo…
Alpha: Alpha!
Mr Moses: Sorry, Alpha, as much as I would love to help you, this is company policy. I am just the messenger.
Alpha: Perhaps I should give you a message for management.
Mr Moses: No need to get angry, Miss… Alpha… These things can be resolved… amicably. You can even take out a policy on your partner… wife… and I will ensure it kicks-in in a few weeks. Your stasis will only begin a month after the papers are signed and stamped.
Mr Moses: Also, you need to know that yur clone would not have any special abilities.
Aplha: What do you mean?
Mr Moses: Your files… they speak of “special abilities” they are actually in quotation marks. You see… a section here… written by the army and signed by your father says “every special ability in Anuli Ezilo body is the property of the Nigerian government and cannot be transfered unto another without the permission of the president of the Federal Republic of Nigeria”.
Alpha: Yeah… I know. I am the prime example of “government propery”. However, I am only understanding how much of a property I am.
Mr Moses: Yes. Also note that where we can cover for your body to be in stasis, It will have to be at a governmet facility and everything that happens afterwards depends on the army or the government.
Apha: I don’t care.
Mr Moses: So… You understand why you will be a different person?
Alpha: No. I understand I will be me.
Mr Moses: That’s alright. I will prepare the documents for your signature.
Alpha: Wait… what happens to the coverage for my ‘partner’ that the present policy contains?
Mr Moses: You forfeit that, but that is why your new policy can kick in automatically. The forfeit is noted and compensated.
Alpha: Okay, I have to think about this. But is there no other way? A new policy, not covered by any third party, will cost what I can’t afford at the moment.
Mr Moses: Well, you could get one of the directors to sign a waiver.
Alpha: Are you a director?
Mr Moses: No Alpha. My father is, though. I could set up a meeting. He’s coming to my house today. Dinner with the family, you know. Yes, most definitely, you should be there.
Alpha: Thank you, Mr Moses. I will be there. Guess I’ll be on my way then.
Mr Moses: It would be a pleasure, Alpha. Erm…but can’t you stay a little longer…we could do lunch, coffee maybe…
***
I had woken up with a clearer head than usual to find Anna’s naked, sleeping form beside me. It was very atypical of her. She usually wakes up hours before me. I had kissed her on the forehead and started making my way to the rooftop. The weather app had forecast clear skies and I wanted to take advantage of that and sunbathe. Also, I had always managed to think more clearly there since Anna started living with me.
I had followed my heart. At first, I thought it was lust. Then it became something else.
Bent over the worktable where I clean my gun, knife, and other work tools I had not used for three years, our minds melded. Do you love me? I asked.
“Yes, even without the pheromones seeping through the tiny holes behind your ears, I love you. I want you to be the man you really are, in body as well as in soul. I want you to be complete,” she said.
She made me understand that. She said it was the only way we could truly be together; the only way she could love me as much as she wanted without the feeling of revulsion that came after we’d lain together. It became difficult to get her to lie with me without the pheromones from behind my ears. Once I forgot that and she gave me a blinding headache. All I did was try to kiss her, and she gave me a headache that lasted a day. I never knew she could do that, give headaches.
Her coming meant change.
I knew I was changing, adapting to her, making adjustments. I noticed the lower temparatures of the central air conditioner. I noticed the cleaner rooms and the watched her start using the kitchen I had never cooked in and then joining her without complaint.
One day, I went out with her, spotting the same bare-chested look.
Another day, I caught myself in the bathroom mirror taping up the ducks behind me ear and I couldn’t remember thinking of doing that. I had shruged at my reflection and adjusted the flesh-coloured tape to fit more perfectly.
I went back to work. Well, I dialled the number I had not called in 3 years and asked to be assigned work. The first assignment had come a few hours later and I was back walking the long collidors of the State Security Service offices at Alagbon Close and peering through top secret files.
Somewhere at the back of my mind, I sometimes wondered why I was back doing something I swore I won’t do ater I found out about my father’s deception and how I had been designed to be a tool from the womb. Like now, I was thinking about all thouse things in ways I hadn’t done in weeks. It was as if there was a fog in my mind that had cleared up and now I could think clearly.
I shook my head, struggling for more clarity and continue on towards the roof.
As I walked past the old gym, a place Anna called her “danger” room, I spied her gym bag by the door. I didn’t need to look twice to see that it was packed and locked. She never packs or locks her bag. I didn’t want to, but all of a sudden, I began thinking about that bag and how somehow I had never cared enough to know what was inside. I walked into the gym proper. One moment I was standing beside the bag, the next I was grasping two ends of it and hearing the strong khaki material tearing. Then it was lying empty, in two bits, on the floor beside me, the contents strewn on her cot. My eyes were drawn to a faded ID among the bit and ends.
With shaking hands, I picked up the ID. Anna’s face looked out at me. It was a practical military-type ID photo, showing a bit of wear and devoid of any embellishment. Though the style of the photo told the story, the name on the ID gave it context. Major Anna Momoh, Royal Gambia intelligence, it read.
I shook my head to clear away the lumps of cotton wool that were making it difficult for me to think clearly. I tried to remember all I did or said in the 3 months that I had known Anna. I remembered her asking questions about my work with the army. I remember vague flashes from my visits to several army black ops sites, but I couldn’t recall making the decision to go there.
My heart started to race and as adrenaline flowed through me, clarity dawned.
Anna wanted my body. Whole. Mindless. For her government or the highest bidder, I don’t know and don’t care.
I raised my eyes to look at the webbing of circuitry that shielded the building from electromagnetic intrusion. It must have been the source of my clarity and the circuitry probably interfered with Anna’s telepathy.
Anna didn’t understand the full extendt of my body’s adaptability. My body adapt’s to ensure I survive the most extreme of situations. I had sought the roof without knowing why.
I wanted Anna to know that I knew, so I left averything the way they were and climbed to the roof. I wanted to give her time to run and then I would give chase. What type of cat would I be if I don’t play with my prey?
END
