I.

CALABAR, NIGERIA.

I stand in the heat of Calabar, soaked from head to toe. Calabar’s sun is definitely different from the rest of the country. Even inside the Calabar sun, Watt Market sun is something else. Small Bend down select that I came to do, I have already been splashed water by a car and stuck my shoe in muddy water. I fucking hate this town. Contrary to popular belief, nothing exciting happens here, and for the past five years I have watched this “city” die a slow, painful death. Every day, I stare at the faces of the people who went about the entire year with their happiness in sealed bottles, waiting to ingest it all in one lethal dose for Calabar Carnival in December.

I walk past the stalls filled with people peddling their wares and into the shade of a jam-packed ‘shopping complex’. Watt market was not built with ease of movement in mind, so every time somebody bumps into me, I have to check for my balls because I don’t want to trend for the wrong reason on Beyoncé’s internet.

I also have to dodge the traders. A man in a black mesh singlet and jeans grabs my hand “Fine boy! I have your chinos here!” He says in an exaggerated accent; how this man got my chinos trousers from my wardrobe, I do not know. I shrug him off.

Markets are always like this, chaotic and filled with people grabbing you and trying to get you to buy their wares. That’s why I try to avoid markets altogether. But this particular trip was totally unavoidable. I have come to try get some new shirts for school and I immediately realise upon arrival that this is a mistake and I need to leave. I am trying to walk through the complex and get to the other side of the market and avoid the sunlight but these people do not know that.

As I approach the exit of the complex, I spot an ornament retailer; you know those ones that sell cheap watches, earrings and necklaces that fade and leave you wearing rust on your neck? That sort of guy. Thing is, although I know not to buy them because they’ll fade, sometimes something catches my eye and I simply cannot resist. “Chairman, come and buy, stop shining eye,” He says.

I look up at the guy; his accent and dressing indicate he is a Hausa man. His smile reveals an inlay on his upper anterior incisor and when he gestures to his jewellery, multiple wristwatches glisten on his forearms.

“Why, though?”

“The things are fine. You sef see am na,” He says in chopped pidgin English as he unlocks the small glass window, unveiling his box of ornaments. I look down at the assortment of jewellery and he insists I pick a bracelet; a silver bracelet with gold Versace logos; obviously fake, but that one is not my business. The thing is fine, so I pick it. “They are two, oga,” He says, pointing out a second bracelet “For your madam na.”

“I cannot afford it please,” I reply.

“Oya give me one thousand five hundred for the two, shikena.”

I look into my wallet and see that it is remaining 1500 minus my transport.

This guy, I think to myself. My future girlfriend will like the bracelet.

“Try am,” He says as I stand contemplating the financial implication. I put on mine and he is right; the drip is effortless. I turn to tell him he’s right and there is absolutely no one there.

No stall with bracelets. No Hausa jeweller. Nothing.

Hian.

I look at my wrist and sure enough, the bracelet is there. The second bracelet is still in my hand as well. I ask the closest shop owner if he saw any ornament seller standing there. “Oga, please if you are not buying joggers please don’t block my business.” The man does not even look up from his mounds of clothes.

Rude.

The thing is, I like free things. As I put on the second bracelet, both of them tighten on my wrists and I feel two sharp pricks on both hands. Both bracelets have turned black and, suddenly, I am drawn back to reality by the shouts of people all around me. The joggers seller sef has abandoned his business and run out. As the Nigerian I am, I follow them and run, make e no cause fight. I emerge from the shopping complex and it is dark out. I know it is still high noon so I’m unsure of what I’m looking at. I look up and search for the Calabar sun. I feel the hair on my arms stand as dread sinks into my stomach.

“Blood of Jesus!” A woman with half-done braids cries out next to me.

In the sky above, a flying structure has completely blocked the sun. It looks like a massive, metal, floating spider, with multiple legs pushing through, as if it is walking in the sky. A loud rumble goes through the entire area. I grab a wall as the ground shakes.

Every instinct in me flees, leaving only fear.

“What the hell is that?”

“That would be an Ufeni warship” a calm male voice says. I turn and the voice isn’t from anyone by my side. People push past me, trying to get to safety. Warship? In Calabar? Wetin come dey happen like this “Who are you abeg?” I wonder if other people can hear the voice as they rush past. Or is it just in my head?

The voice within my head is clear, despite all the chaos around me. “Abeg: I do not have that term in my database,” the voice says “Subject name: Joel Odudu. Twenty-two years old. Nigerian.”

“I did not ask for my own name oh!” I mumble feebly, as I  feel my heart thumping against my chest.

The bracelets glow and hum gently. “I have no name; my only purpose is to serve the wielder of Irkang.” the voice replies.

“Which one is Irkang again?” I’m running away from the danger, though it is not possible to be honest. “How fast do I have to run, to get away for god’s sake?”

The bracelet glows “The ship is exerting an artificial gravitational pull about 8.2% that of Earth’s,” The voice said, “your chances of escaping are currently at 14%.”

I stumble and quickly regain my footing.  “10%.” The voice says, devoid of emotion.

“Fuck!”

“Fuck.” the bracelets shift to a deep purple.

“I was not talking to you!” I blink rapidly, trying to process everything. Around me, people keep running, though from what I observe, the voice in my head is right. That “warship” is so big that everything around it is being drawn upwards. One of the police officers who is running with us (I don’t blame him sha; me I would’ve been pushing people away) is skewered by a rising iron rod. The entire scenery is every alien invasion movie, but this is not New York. Do the invaders know that? I look up at everything being pulled towards the core of the warship, its shadow looming over us.

I need to keep moving. Get to safety Jo.

“Ufen will consume everything, incorporating all into itself, such is its purpose,” the voice reiterates. My mind races through the possibilities and I have to decide if having a voice in my head offering me information on supposedly alien technology is now normal.

“Oh Abasi mmi!” my voice comes out as a deep screech as I’m yanked off my feet and being pulled upwards to the ship. I grab an iron fence post and hold on as tight as I can. I know that if I am pulled up, I will die in the onslaught. “Why, Calabar?” I shout over the sound of a bus crashing into the walkover bridge.

“It knows the gauntlets are down here somewhere. So, it will decimate all, living or non-living, till it gains that which it seeks,” The voice explains as I helplessly watch people not yet in the range of Ufen’s pull scream for help that will not come. Nigeria is not equipped to handle potholes, not to talk of an earthquake or a disaster of this magnitude…

“Help please!” I cry. The pull is getting stronger and I know it is only a matter of time till I am drawn up.

“Hold on!” A woman shouts at her child, too weak to hold anything. She lunges for the girl and grabs on tight. They will probably die before they reach the ship. I watch as flying shrapnel tears through them, unable to look away.

“May I recommend Manoeuvre forty-seven? The casualties may not be averted but the ship will be neutralized.”

“Who is doing the manoeuvre?!”

The voice hesitates, as if trying to understand me. I am losing my grip on the rod. The white light on the bracelet throbs gently, as if it is waiting for something. “Irkang.” It replies.

I draw in a deep breath and exhale, trying to slow my breathing. I do not know what will happen, but I know I need to survive to find out. “Do it!”

 The voice does not respond. I watch as humans get hit by higher, faster rising projectiles as they are pulled up by the warship. What is all this? How does so much chaos replace an otherwise uneventful year in the calmest city?

Finally, slick with my sweat, the rod gives, and I am pulled up. In retrospect, I could have done more with my life than be a mere passenger but, na so we see am.

“Engaging in three… two…one.” The air hums and the bracelets around my forearms turn blood red.

There is an explosive sound, followed by a rumbling. Suddenly, the pull of the ship ceases and everything and person begins to fall. I land and taste gravel, though I scramble to my feet to the safety of what remains of the shopping complex. The people who had risen too high land with crunching sounds, some of them might survive, but for the others I cannot say. I look up and see that other ships have entered the fray. They are smaller and more mobile and launch a barrage of missiles at the ship, and looping to attack again. Debris clatters on a roof.

“Do you want to explain?” My breathing is ragged as I call out, knowing the voice will hear me.

“My prime directive is to seek out a member of the resident sentient species on a planet and grant them access to Irkang; the military capabilities designed and deployed by my planet, Id’ea, to combat the invasive forces of Ufen, which are quite substantial as you can see.” The voice keeps talking as I begin to see what he’s describing. I can suddenly see the view from one of the ships in the fleet. The Ufen ship is so massive I know we cannot take it down and risk obliterating a huge part of Calabar.

 “Why are they attacking now?”

“They want the power you possess, the powers you uncloaked when you wore both onyx bracelets.”

Power? “Power? What power do I have abeg?”

The bracelets begin to grow out, till I am wearing full black metallic gauntlets. They clink as I move my fingers, reflecting sunlight. “Within each of the gauntlets lies the control over a weapon that can obliterate their entire invasive force. It is the only capability the Ufen military cannot replicate because it can only be found on Id’ea and her mirror planets, of which planet Earth is one.” I look at my hands again and then at the carnage the Ufen has dealt in just its first attack.

So much for “Nothing exciting happens in Calabar”.

II.

Etekamba – which is the name I’ve decided to give the voice in my head – is an Artificial Intelligence Module deployed within Irkang and designed to assist whatever sentient species found on its planet of deployment in the defence against Ufen forces. When I ask who Ufen is and what they want with my planet, the AI sounds afraid, though I do not think that is possible.

“I have the logs of every planet that Ufen has attacked; some were able to defend successfully but others weren’t. The people and their planet were coopted into itself.”

I shudder. Ufen means suffering in ibibio. “You speak of Ufen as if it is one entity,” I ask. We are seated outside a destroyed Chicken Republic, watching the poor attempt at aid being dispersed; the few people who survived the encounter with the Ufen warship are all gathered beneath the shopping complex at the centre of the market, which should have been destroyed completely but for Etekamba’s initiation of Irkang with manoeuvre forty-seven. The ships, all unmanned, fired their weapons at the lone Ufen ship and a secondary group flew beneath, reducing the ship’s debris to limit the impact areas of their crashes. I look at the bodies strewn on the floor, covered in varied clothes and know that though it is not my fault, it cannot happen again.

“Ufen is a single entity, spanning whole galaxies lightyears away. At the pinnacle of Id’ean technological advancements, we sought to expand even further than our own world. Id’ea created an unmanned exploratory force, controlled by an artificial intelligence module and sent it to Ufen, our uninhabited sister planet, to test its viability.” As Etekamba speaks a soothing feeling courses through my veins, and the voice pauses to inform me that Irkang is releasing a number of chemicals to heal my body and preserve its host. Then it continues.

“It was infected by a techno-organic parasite on the planet and, with the exploratory mechanisms of the Id’ean machines, it began to absorb the entire planet Ufen, using her core for energy.

“The Id’eans realised their mistake and tried to destroy it, but it was too late. Ufen and the Id’eans have been at war with each other since then, and that war has finally gotten to your galaxy.”

I ask what we have that Ufen wants. “Surely it has already found it?”

“Ehn?” One woman on my left in a faded ‘Adieu Papa’ shirt responds, thinking I’m talking to her. I apologise and point to my right ear and mouth ‘phone call’. She returns to pouring water on her bleeding forearm and I walk away from her as Etekamba responds.

“Not quite. Although it has come close to finding it, hundreds of times,” it says “Ufen yearns for expansion, to envelope all life, till it is all that exists in the universe. It lacks the technology and the power for this endeavour, and absorbing the Id’ean planet would have been enough. After years of war, near the demise of their civilisation, the Id’eans also discovered that the core of their planet possessed energy they could have harvested and used to decimate Ufen, but they were too late; their planet was dying and the energy wouldn’t be enough to kill Ufen off completely. So, they created Irkang.”

“So, basically, you’re like Siri for a world-killing drone militia?”

“Siri…” the bracelet hums as Etekamba searches the term. “That is correct.” it says, as the base of the gauntlet flows out in liquid form and covers my arm injuries “The Id’eans knew Ufen would outlast their civilisation and inadvertently win the war, spreading to galaxies ill-equipped to stop it. Between Irkang and the crimson core of their mirror planets in each galaxy, they gave their mirrors a fighting chance. This was what you of Earth would call a double-edged sword, as Ufen absorbing Irkang would spell the end of all life in the universe.“

“So why don’t you just use the tech and defeat it?” I ask Etekamba. I have not felt as healed up and strong as I feel at this moment.

“Irkang has preset techniques and manoeuvres but it still relies on the sentient species to render an air of unpredictability to its combat potential.”

“Makes sense.”

“Though Ufen has conquered and absorbed other Id’ea mirrors, it still does not know how to use Irkang’s destructive power, because it has never absorbed the gauntlets, so the weapons are merely scrap metal.”

I look at all that has happened. The destruction must not be repeated.

“Etekamba, you need to hide Irkang till we’re ready to retaliate.”

Fathers. Mothers. Brothers. Sisters. I know I cannot let Ufen take Calabar. We have carnival this December.

    “Etekamba?”

The bracelet lights up “Present.”

“Teach me everything.”

I spend the next twelve hours having information speedily uploaded into my brain. It is the most painful process I’ve had to experience in my life and Etekamba says we have to do this constantly for as long as we can. “The knowledge available to you is from countless battles between Ufen and other users of Irkang in galaxies you have never even heard of.” It says during the upload. According to it, our universe is, at its core, repetitive, with the same sequences of stars and planetary forms occurring billions of light years apart. Ufen realised that and knew if it developed light-speed capabilities, other planets with crimson cores could be harvested and it would truly be unstoppable. Its Ide’an creators also came to the same conclusion and resolved to stop it in every conceivable galaxy; their way of fixing their mistake.

All around the world, countries were preparing for war. No one knew that Etekamba and I had stopped the first onslaught, but they were bent on defending themselves. I wish I could tell them their weapons would not work in this fight; Ufen has warred against planets that had gained nuclear capabilities and lost initial engagements, then it developed countermeasures and won in subsequent battles. How did Ufen defeat all those planets?

I was not ready to face it again, but I had no choice. I’d have lived out a mundane life and died, but the universe brought me war. “Etekamba?”

The bracelets come alive “Present.”

“We need to send a message to all the world powers, letting them know I will handle the threat personally.”

“There is currently an emergency G20 summit being held.”

“Perfect. How fast can I get there?” I ask

“An hour at top speed.”

“Send me a ship now.”

Etekamba gets me to Greenwich, England in exactly one hour. I had wondered how I’d get into the summit, but my ship flew through what is considered the most surveilled airspace in the world without triggering any of their surface-to-air missiles and when you arrive in a stealth ship more advanced than anything the global military divisions possess, it earns you much-needed attention. I am tickled, yet struggling not to be overwhelmed by the fact that I am now standing before the leaders of twenty of the world’s most powerful countries. They believe they have the military powers to face up to this threat, but here I am, informing them that I am the only one in possession of the powers and technology that can save the entire world. The looks on their faces range from disbelief to anger at the vim I show. Etekamba feeds me information on every leader before me. “What is your name?” A handsome man, clearly the Prime Minister of my future country, Canada, asks.
I have repeated my name at their many security clearances but I answer him “Joel Odudu.”
“How old are you?” The British prime minister is trying to remain calm, but his rapidly reddening skin, and the fact he is shaking as he tries to drink his water, give him away

“Twenty-two, sir.”.

“Where are you from, young man?” The German Chancellor asks.

“Nigeria, ma.” I reply.

They all laugh, amused at the audacity of an individual from a country in West Africa claiming he can save them all, despite their bombs, their jets and their guns. Their arrogance is annoying. Unfortunately, I cannot tell them that Etekamba’s uploads have shown me that in the mirror planet Id’ea, the centre of power is Charias, a region in West Africa.

“Well, I have said what I travelled here to say. It will be best if you focus on keeping your citizens safe.” I link with some drone ships in the fleet and will them to rise from the floor of the Mediterranean Sea, the closest of the ships to them. “I know it seems like an absurd request but you will only make things worse for us all if you don’t comply.”

Their aides are informing them currently of a group of about thirty ships in the air above our location.

“Those ships are all mine. I stopped the first attack and I believe we can end this threat permanently if you let me do this.”

There are cries of outrage at my actions, but they all know I am right. I possess Irkang and the knowledge of its power. “Ufen wants our planet’s core,” I tell them,

“It wants our lands and our waters. I will not let it happen.”

The head of the G20 summit calls for deliberations. But I sense Etekamba’s systems go into alert. Something is wrong. I cannot speak on the podium so I concentrate and connect to it. Etekamba?

Its voice rings out in my head, “Present.”

What is happening? I clench the podium in anticipation of Etekamba’s reply.

“Ufen is coming. My deep space scanners detect an entity as large as planet earth’s moon just beyond Jupiter, headed for Earth.” As it shows me the images from the scanners relay, I feel hair lifting on my arms.

That is much larger than the first ship they sent, right? Also, how long till it gets here?

“Will that information increase your stress levels?” It replies.

This computer will not focus on saving lives, e wan form Psychologist now.

Yes. It will, I think in response, answer me, abeg.

“This capital ship is at least five times larger.” Etekamba’s voice is noticeably heavier.

I take a deep breath.

How much of Irkang can I handle without damaging my brain?

The AI pauses, likely analysing my brain. I cannot see the bracelets, but I feel them gently vibrating on my forearms. “The accelerants and all the information have improved your cognition and processing abilities. I believe in a week you will be able to control Irkang completely, Mr. Odudu.”

Now it uses my name.

Do one more thing for me. I need these people to understand. They need to see Ufen.

Etekamba projects a hologram of Ufen. The ship looms, large even in this scaled holographic image. Its tendrils swirl as it pushes through the void of space, towards Earth. Towards us.

 Fear radiates through the hall.

I address the world leaders “Ufen is larger than you all can handle,” I point to the holo, “let me stop this or we will all die.” My voice borders on desperation.

“What if you fail?” The Japanese Prime Minister asks. He waits for his translator to inform me, but Etekamba has already translated.

“I will not fail sir,” I reply him in perfect Japanese.

The world leaders do not say anything, but their fear is palpable; they have never faced a threat of this magnitude and no number of missiles prepares you for a nearly unstoppable force. They will not stop me.

This time I speak so they can hear me “Etekamba, give me everything we have.”

III.

When the initial excitement wears off, I am drenched in fear. The worst thing is the loneliness. Every so often I am pushed to ask myself: How did I get here?

A week after my meeting with the world leaders, I stand on the bridge of a space vessel; the vastness of space screams how little I am in comparison to its endlessness.

But I am inconsequential no longer; what I do here decides the fate of humanity. The journey up to my fleet, positioned a thousand kilometres over the planet, had been disorienting, but it meant when I looked back I saw all that I was fighting for; a blue ball filled with families who hoped to see the next sunrise. This is without a doubt, not the future I envisioned for myself; I am the general of an army that will take my thoughts as its orders and execute them to perfection.

With the information I’ve received from Etekamba’s database, it becomes clear to me how truly poetic combat in space is; the fluidity of the motions of the ships in the soundless void (No pew pew here). I watch as the force that is Ufen crosses the blackness between us to face me, as it probably has countless times since its birth. I’d watched other people do it; other humanoid races who existed in Earth’s other mirrors. Some had been victorious, though upon a second attack, Ufen defeated them swiftly and efficiently. I tried to learn from the losses of the now extinct planets, undoubtedly now a part of Ufen.

But nothing prepares me for the real deal.

Etekamba had not said anything since I started my journey. He’d told me if another had worn the second bracelet, I would have had a co-pilot on this journey. I know that I would have gifted the bracelet to a loved one and put them in the danger I now see before me. I look at the gauntlets, spread fully out of the bracelets and on my hands. I take a deep breath “Etekamba, can I get some music?”

Etekamba’s voice comes from the ship’s speakers “I can link to your phone. Will that work?”

“Thank you.”

The greatest threat to an overwhelming power is usually miscommunication. Unfortunately, Ufen did not have that problem; it is one entity and can deploy its forces where and when it deems necessary. Irkang was an efficient countermeasure. I needed to be fast and flexible, using my ships as a swarm rather than a massive hammer. My view was at the back of my fleet; my ship was a swift skimmer; I needed the larger destroyers for later.

I looked through my scanners at Ufen. The mother ship released thousands of smaller vessels as I nodded to the beats of Prettyboy D-O’s Dem go hear Wehn, which translates to… there’s actually no easy way to explain.

I deploy a quarter of my ships. They swarm in small squadrons through the neutral field between my ships and Ufen, all fitted with weapons powerful enough to pierce through Ufen-metal. Irkang was designed solely for the purpose of destroying Ufen and preventing it from consuming planet cores, but Ufen did not expect resistance, especially on a mirror planet so far from Id’ea. I had to overshoot its estimate of human insanity and show him how little it understands us. I peel off a quarter of the ships hurtling at the Ufen ships from my main force and direct them to attack the southern edge where Etekamba informed me the Ufen fleet have their weak spot, their engines. “Etekamba, increase thruster outputs to eighty per cent.”

 Ufen lurches into motion and the distance between the fleet and my ships erupts with missiles and long-range projectiles. I see that Ufen tilted the side of about sixty of its ships to face the incoming ships I deployed to attack their south pole. They release a volley of railgun munition – a few thousand guns go off at once.

Metal shreds. The smaller ships – mine – are all but damaged.

Ufen is fast. But I needed to be sure…

I know what it wants. I know Ufen wants me captured so it can take Irkang and finally learn to harvest cores. With the knowledge it gains from Irkang, it can produce world killers – the same kind of weapons I planned on using now; mirrors would no longer even win their first battle.

“Etekamba, now we know what we need to do, abi?”

“Indeed,” Etekamba says “Initiating countermeasures.”

“Launch my destroyers. We go at it now.”

The two-thirds of my largest ships left in closing distance to Ufen fire their missiles. Ideally, two missiles would not be enough to harm Ufen, but these were the Id’ean’s trump cards. World-killers launched at the Ufen ships. These missiles were nearly undetectable, as their exterior was made from Ufen metals. An explosion rocked the left flank of Ufen’s defensive fleet, leaving a gaping hole that it was struggling to close.

“Railguns Now!” Etekamba fires twelve railgun rounds, made from the scrap metal in Irkang’s forge. Three get through before Ufen succeeds in closing the gap and the mother ship is hit.

“Ehen!”

Ufen doesn’t relent though. It launches more ships, smaller than the other Ufen ships, but still sizeable. They do not hesitate and deploy hundreds of missiles, shredding the entire frontline of my ships.

“Hold steady,” I mutter a silent prayer. Hold steady!!

“Etekamba, how far off am I?” I bite my lower lip; the speed is jarring. Usually, astronauts train for months to acclimatise to the force, but I’ve only had a few days.

“Considering the slingshot of the planet’s trajectory. You should be engaging Ufen in ten minutes.”

“How fast are we going?” I feel the food in my system lurching about.

“Mach Seven,” it replies, which is over eight thousand kilometres per hour. I think of the people on my home planet, all relying on me to win this conflict.  We need more “Maximum velocity, Etekamba! Launch missiles.”

“Those are the last missiles in the fleet,” Etekamba informs me.

“I know that!”

The missiles are launched and the attack I executed earlier is repeated. In all other conflicts against the mirror planets, Ufen was met with an all-out assault with all their rare core missiles. They would decimate its initial force and it would attack again in a few weeks with a stronger force and defeat the planet. The Praetors would destroy the gauntlets to keep Irkang’s power from It. Cycle repeats. Being a machine, it anticipated that all its opponents would attack the same way.

So, while I make Etekamba simulate my manoeuvres and make them believable, I am on another mission. This machine-idiot definitely does not expect this.

I arrive on the Ufen capital ship, with no form of defence or even any activity.

This is the day that the Lord has made.

“How are things on your front, Etekamba?”

“I have held off on the attack and focused on the defensive.” Etekamba says “Ufen is as you predicted, inactive in its secondary position.”

“Launch the Atlantic regiment,” I order. Ufen’s secondary forces are one hundred million kilometres from the mirror planet, inactive and waiting for information from its failed onslaught to turn the tide of the battle. At our current rotation and revolution that places it just behind Mars, caught in the red planet’s gravity. I launch all six missiles at it, followed by a week’s worth of mined rail rounds. I watch as every missile in the ships I’d taken from Earth four days prior lays west to the second, defenceless Ufen capital ship. I stare in awe at the capabilities of the missiles at first but I know the job isn’t done.

“Etekamba, how is it looking?” I ask.

“The Atlantic regiment is primed, Master Odudu.”

I watch from Mars as my last ships rise from the ocean floor where Ibeno beach meets the Atlantic Ocean and fly straight up into the engagement. Etekamba is to fly them straight into the Ufeni fleet, with their reactors set to overheat. The destruction unfolds as predicted in the simulation. The strike sets off a series of reactions that end with the parasite dead.

Maybe if Ufen had left Calabar alone, it might have stood a chance; that was its first mistake. Much as I hate the damn place, it is home.

Checkmate, Unam ikot.

I met myself in the Mega City a week ago. It had never happened to me before, though I’d heard whispers of rumours that it had happened to friends of friends, people I hardly knew. I thought I had been more careful.

I was about to eat noodles and soup in a Chinese restaurant on Z street. My waitress – the one who’d taken the order from me – had changed shifts and I was looking at my phone, scrolling through the surgeries I’d need to do that afternoon, when the new one arrived with my food. I looked up as the bowl was put down, and my words left me.

Though it was inappropriate, she sat down opposite me. She must have been twenty or so years my junior, but the anti-ageing pills and technologies we have access to in the city made it hard to tell. It was like a mirror had just slid into the seat. For a moment we just looked at each other, examining our faces with the intensity and disinterest that you apply when you brush your teeth at night. I could see that the birthmark on my neck was there, but the scratch above my eyebrow from the bottle that fell off the fire escape and clipped me on the head last year was not. Of course, it couldn’t have been there, but it was impossible not to check. Were my ears that large? We both reached up to touch our left lobe at the same time. So, they were.

Her hands were like mine too. Long fingers. So strange to look at them out on the table like that, un-gloved, touching everything. Nail polish cerulean, a tattoo on the wrist. Louche and reckless.

‘Who are you?’ her voice sounded like mine, but the accent and rhythm was different. That’s how they spoke in the village. Slower. No rush. A lack of elocution.

I could have asked her the same question, but I didn’t, because, of course, I had some inkling of what had happened, an understanding of how this was happening, and it was one that I had no interest in sharing with her.

The woman claimed her name was Kethiwe. She’d run away from her family in the village and had come here to the Mega City to seek a new life. It was a story I’d heard hundreds of times before in the hospital from crack addicts, single moms, and injured workers. All of them gloveless. All of them so unaware of the full extent of what had been done to them. All of them thinking that by changing something, doing something different, working harder, they could alter their outcomes.

They didn’t understand that the urge to come here was pre-programmed, just like we needed it to be. How could they? Poor things.

I watched her mouth move, wondering if I too slanted my lips to the left. She had a chipped tooth, stains on some from smoking. She hadn’t been taking care of herself. Soon, she’d look older than me, with that type of behaviour. Words and complaints were gushing out of her like a torrent. She was drawing attention.

I held up a gloved hand in a stop sign.

‘Please. We can’t talk here. Finish your shift and I’ll wait for you outside. Get up now and carry on as if this never happened.’

I ate my noodle bowl, left my money on the table, and walked across the street to sit in the park where I could see the entrance to the restaurant. I called the hospital, cancelling the surgeries I’d scheduled. They would be fine without me for one afternoon.

As I sat, legs stretched out on the wooden bench, half an eye on the exit of the restaurant and half on the park, I thought about her story.

They all believed they came to find a better life. This was partly reinforced by the fact that none of them ever went home again. Evidence of success, some might say. Success of the system rather than any one of them.

The reality was that this meant one of two things. Either they found themselves and confronting this was too much for them, so they kept it a secret. Or they lived the life we’d designed for them and were too ashamed to admit that they were struggling, so said nothing, not wanting those they’d left behind to smirk and snigger at their failed dreams. A system designed for their servitude surely couldn’t breed enthusiasm or joy in the other village people if they knew the truth.

Or, I suppose, there was a third option. They didn’t make it.

While thinking, this bench that I’d sat in many times before after similar noodle lunches took on new interest. I imagined what it would be like to take off my gloves and run my fingers along its grainy wood, what a splinter might feel like, how the soil at my feet would crumble and stick to my hands. How wrinkles might feel, what I’d look like if I stopped taking the pills and going for my annual facial rejuvenation. What it might be like to visit the village, to have a chance at a different life. Foolish thoughts. The types that get you into trouble.

Look what happens when you’re curious, I said to myself. This. You’ve made a real mess of things.

There could be hundreds of me all over this city right now and it was my own fault. Or there could just be her. But this was unlikely. I would need to decide what to do, about her and all of them should I ever meet them. I would need to decide quickly. Uncertainty about the lesser versions of yourself never served anyone.

Time passed slowly, day dawdling into evening. Eventually, she exited the restaurant looking up and down the street, her face – my face – stricken with shock. I whistled and waved, and she looked over at me, beginning to cross the road without checking for traffic, jolting at the scooters that hooted and screeched at her. She made it across. I had the grace not to feel disappointed.

‘Sit down.’

‘I don’t want to sit down. I want to know what the hell is going on.’

‘Sit.’

She did. They always do. Bred for obedience, for compliance. I didn’t delay my explanation. It would have been cruel to prolong her suffering. Out with it. That’s the easiest way.

‘I work in a hospital. At this hospital and many others around the world, we don’t only heal people. We make them. When necessary.’

Her eyes searched mine for reason, for sense. I knew this must be a lot to take in and she probably wouldn’t have had the education I’d had, so I tried to keep it simple. I spoke slowly.

‘Sometimes, Kethiwe, the world just needs replaceable people. People who are like the connective tissue of a city – just beneath the surface. People to clean and tend children and sweep streets and pick up garbage … you understand?

‘Of course, nobody wants to be these people by choice. So, we solved that. We replace them by design. It’s easier if we control it.’

Her eyes grew wide. I looked down again at her hands and continued, wishing she’d at least painted over the chips in the polish.

‘We use a machine called 5f – five fingers. We use the pieces of you that you all, carelessly I must say, leave behind all over the place.’

I picked up her palm and held it close to her own face.

‘These fingerprints of yours – oily marks with traces of cells. That’s all we need now to make someone. It’s really quite advanced the way we designed the system. No excess, no waste.’

She pulled her hand away, and curled it into a fist like a fern unfolding in reverse.

‘Now, don’t feel angry. It isn’t as bad as it seems. Everyone here is happy, thriving even. They don’t have to do the things they don’t want to do, and we can all live peacefully. You get to perform a task that you are ideal for performing. We identify future gaps … I mean, when we need more of a certain kind of person in society – waitresses say – we make more. Nobody has to do anything they don’t anymore.’

While I gave her a moment for this to all sink in, my mind wandered back to the moment I suspected my mistake had happened. It was so many years ago now. I’d thought I was safe.

A baby was brought into the hospital, still young enough that the umbilical cord had not fallen off. He was alone, gloveless. Abandoned on a street corner. We see it happening all the time. People can’t control their desires but suddenly think they know what they want from their futures. Or they have the mistaken impression that they can redefine the way that life is going for them. All that hassle for a single moment of pleasure. Distasteful. It helps if you stay angry about how they behave. Reduces the urge for sympathy.

I’d seen hundreds like him before, but even I had to admit that he was beautiful. His eyes were still a little glassy, you know … searching for someone who would be there for him, for connection. Arms wriggling out for touch. Making groaning gurgling noises. Long black lashes.

He should have been taken straight to the lab to be put down and macerated for cells. That’s what we are supposed to do. Not sentimentalise. If he wasn’t wanted now, he wouldn’t be wanted in the future. That was the reasoning. No room for unnecessary. No room for extras.

But then he wrapped his little fingers around my gloved ones, and something happened. A moment of weakness. On the way to the lab I pulled over into a storage closet, took off my gloves, and held him. Felt the warmth of his soft skin on mine. Cradled him. I wanted to see what it might be like, you know. Like with the soil beneath the bench. I just wanted to try something different. To feel things.

Then the moment passed, and I took him to the lab and didn’t feel that sad about it, to be honest. He wasn’t really a person, not for long anyway. And he’d be put to good use, for all of us.

I must have left some of myself on him. My prints mixed in with his. Cells I didn’t think would matter. That’s the only way this made any sense. And now, I’d have to explain myself to the higher ups. Come forward and confess, be fired for my incompetence, and likely never be able to work again. My friends, colleagues, would shun me out of protocol though I knew many of them had probably taken the same risks. Or … the third option.

Kethiwe was still silent, mulling it over probably. I looked up at the trees of the park, heard the bird song. An Olive Thrush greeting the evening. She reached over to me and held my hand. I let her, safe beneath the gloves.

‘I met a man once at a bus stop’ she said, measuring her fingers against mine. ‘The bus that I took to come here. He walked up to me while I was waiting. He’d cut off his fingers with a machete. Said he didn’t want any part of this world. Warned me against it.

‘It didn’t make sense to me. He just seemed … mad. I mean, what type of person chops off their own fingers?’

A smart one, I thought. One who wouldn’t find themselves in the situation I was now in. Astute in a macabre sort of way. He’d never meet himself eating his usual lunch of noodles and soup and have to plot his own death.

Kethiwe let go of my fingers as if she could read my mind. ‘So, what now? What does this mean?’

‘Mean?’ It meant nothing, and it was a bit embarrassing that she couldn’t see that. This was a problem to be solved. One of three possible options. But still, she persisted, as though we could solve it together.

‘Don’t you see, you could be me, if the circumstances shifted slightly.’

I resented her tone. Felt something like anger, but suppressed it. ‘I could never be you, Kethiwe. That’s the point – there should never have even been you in the first place. It was a mistake, an accident. That’s all.’

‘But, it’s too late now. We’ll have to work something out.’

There was no we. I had my life in order. No extras. No excess. No waste. There was no room in my schedule for this type of unpredictability. I didn’t like the way she assumed that just because we looked the same there would be some common purpose. That we were alike in some way, and only circumstances made us different.

You could say that she brought it on herself.

‘Take a walk with me. I’ll show you where I live.’

‘Okay.’ She was uncertain. Her curiosity changing to concern.

I sweetened my tone. ‘There is a beautiful view from the bridge on the way. The water below roars and sends mist up into the air, scattering like glitter.’

They always love nature talk, the village people. I’d learnt from my hospital shifts that it made them feel at home. Pastoral pleasantries were part of my daily work. It felt underhanded, but I knew there was little point in letting that worry me. Not where we were heading.

She followed me up the street towards the cliff with the high bridge. It was odd to think of her taking in these surroundings with new eyes. For me this was a walk home I’d done on hundreds of days. So much of it was now unnoticed, taken for granted.

We walked over to the centre where I pointed out the fact that you could almost see the valley from here, and just beyond it the village that she was from. My pointed finger in my glove looked so safe, so perfect.

‘If you look down,’ I said, ‘you’ll see that the river actually flows in that direction. Towards the valley. So, they might connect at some point. Parts of this place feeding parts of that place. Connected.’

‘Like us’ she said, her voice soft, as she stood on tiptoes and looked over the railing. It wasn’t much of a push, just a gentle one.

Later, when I walked over the second half of the bridge alone, I made an effort to take in the view. To imagine what it looked like for that brief moment, through our eyes.