But inside, the message was professional. None of the usual scam markers of a 419 operator. No plea for credit card or bank info. It went into detail about some of Efi’s robotic inventions, and how she was being nominated for her ingenuity in helping her community, as well as her potential to achieve even greater feats. It encouraged her to apply for the grant and had a single link at the bottom. Not altered or spoofed. It went directly to an encrypted page on the Adawe Foundation’s website. Below the link, the message was simply signed: “A fan.”
Efi’s hands trembled as she stared at the application form. Was this real? Had someone actually nominated her? Who? “A fan.” Did that mean one of her Hollagram followers?
Slowly, Efi composed herself. She would make Adawe proud, using that money to expand her Junie operation and hire help, upgrade the holoimages to use hard-light technology so the robots would be more than just virtual presences—they could assist elderly and disabled people in their homes, too. Her mind was spinning with the possibilities.
She’d have her parents help put together the application this week. Efi looked down the page and saw the deadline in big red letters.
It was due today.
At midnight.
Why hadn’t this nomination come sooner? Why at the last minute? Well, better late than not at all. Efi couldn’t pass this chance up. She looked at the clock on her tablet as the tram pulled up to her stop. It was 4:10 p.m. That meant she had less than eight hours to fill out the application and write a personal essay. She could do it. Plenty of time.
“Efi!” came her father’s voice as soon as she was settled at her laptop and had gotten a few of the application questions answered. “Come set the table. It’s time for dinner.”
Efi gritted her teeth. Dinner. She rushed through her meal as fast as she could, stuffing beef stew and mixed greens in her mouth and talking at the same time. Pieces of jollof rice flew out as she answered her father’s questions. “School was fine. Homework is done. Room is clean. Everything is great!”
“Slow down, dear. You’re going to choke on your food,” Dad said, tilting his head down so that he could see Efi over the rims of his glasses. He had just arrived home and was still in professor mode, looking every bit the part of in his maroon agbada, a loose robe with detailed embroidery meandering down the lapel.
“Tell us how your robot project is going,” Mother said before taking a bite of greens. She chewed slowly, inspecting Efi. Mother was like a superhero when it came to sensing when there was something wrong. So Efi was extra careful not to let on that the fate of the rest of her life was hinging on getting this application turned in on time.
“We’ve shipped some of the orders already,” Efi replied. “Should have the rest done before the month is out.”
“That’s wonderful. Maybe we can go out to a fancy restaurant the following weekend to celebrate? Hassana and Naade are welcome to come along.”
“I’d love that, Mama. But word is spreading about the Junies. We’ll have more orders coming in. And I’m already buried with update 3.4. Maybe later?”
Mother sighed, opened her mouth, then closed it again. Efi already knew what she was going to say. That Efi needed to spend more time being a kid. And Mother already knew what Efi would say back, that this was her being a kid. A kid who liked building robots more than anything else.
“Okay, maybe after,” Mother said, getting up to fetch the dessert from the kitchen. Efi tried to concentrate on enjoying her meal, but the seconds kept ticking by and the pit kept growing in her stomach. She needed to get that grant application in tonight.
“Come on, out with it,” her father said once her mother had left the room. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing important.”
“Honey, you’re always doing something important. What is it this time?”
“Well, there’s a grant I’d like to apply for. A ‘Genius Grant’ from the Adawe Foundation.”
“Wow. That’s a big deal!”
“I know. One hundred million naira paid out over five years,” Efi said, the amount sounding like an impossibility to her ears. “It’ll give me the freedom to really pursue being a roboticist.”
“Is there anything I can do to help? Double-check your application form? Proofread your essay? Anything?”
“Can you tell Mama that I excused myself from dessert?” Efi couldn’t bear to deal with the disappointment on her mother’s face when she told her that she didn’t have time for her famous fried plantains.
Dad grimaced. “I suppose I can. But you’re sure you don’t have any i’s that need dotting? Or any t’s that need crossing?”
“I’m sure, Dad.” Efi smiled at him, and he nodded at her, excusing his daughter. She stepped away quickly and quietly so that her mother wouldn’t hear, then proceeded to her room. Efi pulled her laptop into her bed and began to write her essay on how she planned to change the world with this grant money. She typed a few sentences, then deleted them.
Typed more. Deleted them. She knew in her heart what she wanted to say, but putting it into words seemed like an insurmountable task. She started to doubt herself. Yes, she was gifted in science and math, but she was just starting to learn about writing persuasive papers in language arts. There was no way she’d be able to compete with the other nominees and their fancy thesaurus words.
Then Efi had an idea. She had her own following on Hollagram, the social media hub for creators to connect with their supporters. Efi’s followers loved her holovid journals, and her updates always got tons of likes and comments. She scanned the application’s rules about essays—nothing there indicated the essay had to be written. In her vlog posts, she was good at selling robots; now she just had to figure out how to sell herself.
First step, figuring out what to wear. She looked down at her Overwatch pajamas. They were quirky, and she loved them and what they stood for—being a hero—but it wasn’t quite the look she was going for. She glanced at the clock on her laptop. 10:30 p.m. She had barely an hour and a half to get this right. She dug through her closet, tossing outfits this way and that. She tried on the black dress with gold foil printed on the fabric, and a couple of chunky loop necklaces, one braided red leather and the other gold. She looked … stylish. Maybe a little too stylish.
She ditched the dress and tried on a lime-green iro—a stretch of fabric that tied around her waist—and put on the matching short-sleeved buba. The iro was smallish, from a couple of seasons ago, but she loved it, and it was the only thing Efi owned that Hassana had ever complimented. She’d said it reminded her of the bold fabrics that Agba Aja would wear. Being compared to one of the most accomplished Nigerian artists, and an omnic to boot, gave Efi the boost of confidence that she’d need for showing her best side to the Adawe Foundation.
Efi finished the look by adorning her face with white paint that popped against the rich brown of her skin. She hesitated, wondering if using ancestral paint was too much for a grant application, but then remembered the power of story. For Efi, her paint told the story of her people’s history and also their future … at least the unified future that she imagined for them. Efi knew that was worth going to battle for.
She nodded at herself in the mirror. She looked creative, but perhaps a little too put together. Efi wanted something that said she was not afraid to get her hands dirty.
She flung off the buba but left the green iro hanging off-kilter from her waist.
She didn’t have a whole lot of time to spare, but she ran down to her workshop anyway and grabbed her simple white work shirt, toolbelt, and gloves. This look said:
Stylish.
Creative.
Grease-under-the-fingernails.
But tech-savvy. She’d forgotten about tech-savvy. She overturned her peripherals bin on the floor beside her laptop station and found the headset she’d used for gaming, back before her workshop sucked up all her time. It was a modded set. She’d soldered on the loops and horn adornments herself and had added a
golden crown after she’d beaten Vivi’s Adventure on hard mode without any extra lives.
Efi sprinted back to her room and dumped out her entire sock drawer to get her lucky armband, the one her grandfather had worn during the Omnic Crisis. It had seen him through many close calls, and Efi needed all the help she could get.
She gave herself a quick glance in the mirror. Yes, now it was perfect.
Then, at the bottom of her old toy chest, she found Sparky Bot.
She angled the camera on her laptop just right, then pressed record.
“My name is Efi Oladele, and this is Sparky Bot,” Efi said, “a fully functioning drone. I made her when I was four years old. She was the first robot of many. I built her to stack block towers nearly up to the ceiling and give my dolls a ride around my playroom. A couple of years later, I built Chore Bot to help my family around the house with cleaning. Ever since I was little, I saw how robots could be more than fun playthings. I learned that they could assist people, and I saw the bond that could form between human and machine.
“Soon after, I started building bots for my neighbors. Like when Mrs. Eni’s mother got sick, and she needed someone to watch her cats while she was going back and forth between Numbani and Lagos all the time. I created a robot just for her. It kept her cats fed and watered but didn’t stop there. It also played with them—the built-in laser pointer was highly praised—and petted them and called all their names. Mrs. Eni said the robot saved her furniture from becoming scratching posts, too.
“Also, several local high schools are using my hydration robots for their football teams. The robots use facial recognition and medical sensors to make sure each athlete is drinking enough water, and they warn coaches when signs of heat stroke are detected. Wins are up and injuries are down. You know what they say … The best offense is a good defense, and the best defense is a hydration robot on the sidelines.
“And now, here’s my latest invention.” Efi held up the Junie. “The Junior Assistant, or Junie for short. Each Junie is capable of complex navigation and comes equipped with cameras that capture footage in 360 degrees. A built-in AI component can also do research, form opinions, and help the user plan and execute daily tasks.”
Efi set the Junie down, letting it walk across the tabletop. “Their main function is to help someone be in multiple places at once. The Junie can project interactive, holographic images of people over great distances, so they can stay in touch and not miss out. It is ideal for workers or students who need to take sick days, but think of all the good this invention could do for chronically ill and disabled people, for people serving in the military, for those working two jobs, or for new parents juggling lots of responsibilities.”
Efi pressed the button on the Junie’s back, and it projected a 3-D holoimage of her. Efi-Junior pulled up schematics of the bot as well as some blueprints of her plans for further upgrades while the real Efi continued. “Right now I’ve got more Junie orders than I can process, so I know they’re going to fulfill an urgent need. And what comes after this, I’m not quite sure yet, but I do know that I want to continue creating things that could really help my community. I want to solve problems around the world, too, like Gabrielle Adawe did when she helped to establish Overwatch, make peace after the Omnic Crisis, and found Numbani, a city where humans and omnics live together as equals. I want to follow in Adawe’s footsteps someday … to be a hero. I’ve got great ideas and big dreams, and with the right support, that someday could be today. I hope you’ll consider me for the Adawe Foundation’s ‘Genius Grant.’ I won’t let you down.”
Efi stopped the recording, then set to editing it. 11:03 p.m. Not much time for anything besides the basics: a slide-in title, a little inspiring music in the background, an aerial shot of Numbani toward the end, and then fade to black. She worked in some footage from her vlog that she’d taken previously of the Junies and her other inventions, too. Some of the video was a little amateurish, but she hoped it made her look more scrappy than sloppy.
A knock came at her door. Efi threw herself under the covers, laptop and all, and pretended to snore. Please don’t be Mama. Please don’t be Mama, she thought.
“Honey?” whispered her mother through the door. “Your lights are on. Why are you still up at this hour?”
The knob turned when Efi didn’t answer. She heard her mother stepping softly across the bedroom floor and felt her pulling her covers back. “Efi,” Mother said. Efi’s snores weren’t fooling anyone.
Efi peeled open one eye. She expected to see her mother’s stern face, but instead, her mother was smiling and holding a plate piled high with dodo—golden-brown plantain slices that smelled so amazing, Efi had a hard time keeping the saliva in her mouth.
“Your father told me about the grant,” Mother said, setting the plate on Efi’s dresser.
“He did?”
“I think it’s a wonderful opportunity.”
“You do?”
“Of course! I know we don’t always see eye to eye, but your father and I support you. We’re behind you for every single grant you want to apply for.”
Efi wanted to smile, though she had a strong feeling a “but” was coming.
“But, honey, I worry about you. And your friends. And rushing through dinner like that—you need to take time to enjoy your family as well.”
“I do, Mama. I just …” Efi still didn’t have the words. She knew that her mother supported her dreams, but often it felt like Efi was living her life for the both of them.
Her mother had been around Efi’s age when the first omnic assaults started. Mother didn’t talk about those years much, but Efi knew that time was scary beyond anything she could imagine. Mother simply wanted Efi not to miss out on the parties, the friends, the fun and carefree days that the Omnic Crisis had stolen from her. Efi bashfully took a fried plantain from the plate, resisting the urge to stuff the whole thing in her mouth. Instead, she took a dainty bite and savored it. Still hot. Mother must have made a new batch just for her. For a moment, Efi completely put the application deadline out of her mind. Her mother pulled her close and kissed her on the forehead.
“Mama, I promise if I get this grant, I’ll take some time to slow down. Maybe we could go on a family vacation.”
That perked her mother up. “Oh, Efi! That would be wonderful. We could go relax on the beaches in Lagos or visit Yankari National Park to see the elephants and hippos. It’d be so nice to get some time away. Somewhere we can all unplug. You get the grant, and we’ll go. Your choice.”
“Thanks, Mama,” Efi said, snuggling into her mother’s side. Mother gently tugged at the ends of Efi’s hair twists, making sure they were lying just right.
“So what are you and your friends up to these days?”
“You mean besides robots?” Efi asked.
“Including robots,” Mother said. “I want to hear all the good bits.”
“Well, Naade hasn’t been caught dancing in the hallways between classes this week. He taught his Junie to whistle whenever it sees a teacher coming.”
“Ha! Why am I not surprised?”
Their time together lasted only a few minutes, but in between bites, Efi took this opportunity to tell her mother everything that had been on her mind lately. Her mother nodded and listened, oohed and aahed in all the right spots when Efi brought up her recent frustrations. Efi felt heard and loved and understood, and it was over all too quickly.
“Brush your teeth. Clean your room,” Mother said as she left. Then she winked at Efi. “Don’t stay up past midnight.”
Efi nodded, then engaged Chore Bot. It came to life and started raking up her socks and folding her clothes. It tried to make the bed with Efi still in it, but she dismissed it back to its corner. Efi put the finishing touches on her video, then added one more line.
“I want to change the world and make it a better place for my friends. And my family.”
There. Not perfect, but if the board at the Adawe Foundation could look an a
lmost twelve-year-old with a dream like that in the eye and not want to help her, then there was no hope for anyone.
She was almost positive she would win that grant.
Now she just had to wait to find out for sure.
Efi used her last few moments before her friends got dismissed from school to review the condensed video feed of the day’s events. Friday’s was a full twenty-two minutes long, which meant there was a lot of juicy stuff going on, but Efi nearly bit her tongue when she watched Stevie Igwe getting his hand caught in the Zobo Bot’s dispenser. The Zobo Bot was known to be ornery, taking its dear, sweet time when making juice drinks. But the ingredients were fresh, with the most fragrant hibiscus leaves, and the students enjoyed watching as the automatic knives sliced up pieces of pineapple and ginger right before their eyes. Efi didn’t know what Stevie had been thinking, but instead of waiting for the drink bottle to dispense, he’d shoved his hand up inside the bot and was stuck like that until a teacher came to rescue him.
The new Junie algorithms Efi had set up were working perfectly, and she felt like she was at school with her friends all day. Even Hassana and Naade had stopped complaining and were fully embracing the technology, both in and out of school. Word was spreading rapidly about Efi’s invention, and a hundred more Junie orders had come in just this week! Keeping busy was such a distraction that Efi had barely noticed that it’d been just over a month since she submitted her grant application. Thirty-six and a half days. Eight hundred and seventy-nine hours. Who was counting?
Finally, the school bell rang, and Efi stood up on her tiptoes, looking for her friends to come rushing out. They had big plans this weekend: lots of workshop time, but she planned to play movies in the background as they assembled robots. Real movies, like Flash Brighton and the Omnic Crusaders: The Duel to Infinity, starring Kam Kalu, Thespion 4.0, A.I. Schylus, and about two dozen other popular actors, both human and omnic. If Efi had a naira for every time Naade raved about that movie, her entire workshop would be funded for eternity, and she’d never have to worry over getting grants again.
The Hero of Numbani Page 3
