“I used my processors to run your distributed computing app. It was the most logical and efficient solution to raise funds for the reactor.”
“Your processors?” Efi said. She’d steeled her nerves enough to stand up to Doomfist, but now she could barely keep her feet beneath her. “Is that why you’ve been distracted? You’ve put yourself in danger. You’ve broken half the city. You’ve caused more damage than Doomfist!” Efi bit her lip. She shouldn’t have said that last part, but she wanted Orisa to understand that what she did was wrong, so she wouldn’t hurt herself like this again. “You can’t go running around the city without concern for your safety. Do you know how worried I was when you weren’t in your docking bay? Next time, if there is a next time, I swear I’m going to—”
Efi stopped herself and swallowed. She looked around the museum, noting cracks and scorch marks on the floor, bullet holes peppering the walls. Any one of those threats could have torn Efi apart. She’d defied her parents and had put herself in danger. She couldn’t even imagine how frightened they were for her right now. Efi called them right away, but instead of yelling at her, they were crying, and her mother was getting tears all over the screen. She told Efi to get to a hiding spot and stay there, and that they would be on their way.
As soon as Efi disconnected, she did exactly what her parents had told her. Doomfist had gotten the best of them, but at least the important pieces of their heritage had been saved. And as Efi hid among Numbani’s precious treasures, she couldn’t help but wonder what Doomfist meant about history repeating itself. What was he after?
Chaos. He wanted chaos. And what better way to sow chaos than to give Numbani its own personal Omnic Crisis? Doomfist was trying to drive a wedge between humans and omnics, igniting distrust through the series of small malfunctions that would snowball into something much more significant. And now that Efi knew what Doomfist was up to, she had to put a stop to it.
The minutes passed like hours, but soon the whole museum was buzzing with civic defenders, and with reporters swarming around the parmiter like vultures, looking to be the first to get a comment directly from Efi. Finally, Efi’s parents arrived, and were ushered to meet her in the quiet of one of the interior rooms. Efi cringed as her father opened his mouth to reprimand her, but one of the reporters swooped in, just in time.
She flashed a green holographic press badge, which lingered in the air a few moments before it fizzled into nothingness. “Bethany Steele with Atlas News,” the omnic reporter said, addressing Mother and Father. Efi’s eyebrows crawled up her forehead. She thought she’d just be on the local stations. This was international! “You must be the proud parents of this young Numbani hero.”
“I—um—” Father fumbled for words. Efi had never seen him falter like this. He was used to giving lectures in front of hundreds of people. “Yes. Yes, we are.”
“I know Gabrielle Adawe would be proud as well,” the reporter said. “All of Numbani has just witnessed your daughter in action, saving some of the city’s most priceless artifacts. May we have a few words with Efi?”
Mother looked around, realizing a crowd had followed them in, and she becamed starry-eyed from all the attention. “From the day our daughter was born, she meant the world to us,” Mother said, patting her gele into the perfect position on top of her head and adjusting herself so that she was square in the reporter’s camera. “It is our pleasure to share her brilliance with the world …”
Her mother continued to regale the entire planet with Efi’s acheivements, and by the transitive property, her parents’ achievements. Efi sighed with relief. It looked like with this sudden fame, she’d avoid her parents’ wrath. At least for a while.
Efi still couldn’t believe that Lúcio—THE LÚCIO—had commented on her holovid. Her feet hadn’t touched the ground for the entire day. She’d printed the comment thread out, gotten it framed, and now it sat next to her bed. She also had one laminated to keep in her satchel. And while she was at it, she had it put onto a custom bowl for her Lúcio-Oh’s, but the custom order wouldn’t be here for days.
As happy as she was, she still couldn’t shake the feeling of shock from seeing her cousin Bisi working with Doomfist. How had someone with so much potential, so bright of a future, made such an awful choice? Could she have done anything to stop him from making it? Efi needed someone to talk to so she could process these feelings—how her day had contained both an epic high and a critical low, but the two friends she was closest to … the only ones who’d understand what she was going through … she’d pushed them away.
Efi thought about what Orisa had said at the grocer’s, that if you hurt someone, you should make it up to them. Efi knew that she’d hurt her friends. In the moment, she’d thought everything she said was justified, but now she saw that what she’d done was ugly and wrong. It was time to make it up to them.
At school the next day, Efi had a plan. However, when she entered the building, the plan was toast. Everywhere she went, she was swamped by students, asking her about going up against Doomfist, asking about the robot. Some even asked her for her autograph, like she was a star! Efi felt herself swelling with pride after all the doubt people had initially shown toward Orisa, but she was also nervous … Orisa still had problems that needed working out. She dodged people’s questions as she tried to weave her way over to her friends, but she couldn’t get close enough to Hassana and Naade to apologize. They’d see her coming, followed by a mob of fans, and they’d disappear down the hall.
When the bell rang for lunch, Efi held her tablet up to her face for a disguise and made a run for the library, lying low until everyone had started eating. It was stewed beans day, so eyes were mostly cast down, focused intently on shoving big spoonfuls of it into their mouths.
Efi sat down at the lunch table across from Naade and Hassana.
“I come bearing apology presents,” she said, setting an extra helping of stewed beans on Naade’s plate, and a fruit cup on Hassana’s. “I’m sorry I got so caught up in this project. I was stressed, but I never should have taken it out on you.”
Naade looked up at her, tentatively, through his lashes, but Hassana could hold a grudge with the best of them.
“You’re—” Naade winced, then looked back down at his tray, probably after taking a kick to the shin. “She said she was sorry,” he whispered at Hassana out the side of his mouth.
“If she was really sorry,” Hassana said, looking directly at Naade and pretending that Efi didn’t exist, “she would have mentioned our names on the news. She’s been on a few times now! Everyone’s going on about how she’s such a genius, and how she’s so brave, but we’ve been there by her side since day one. We were there at the airport. She needs us to do her dirty work for her, but as soon as it’s time to take credit, she’s up front and center. Every time!”
Efi gasped and sat back. Hassana’s words were sharp, but true. She hadn’t been exactly thoughtful in her opportunities to publicly acknowledge her friends, and a fruit cup wasn’t about to rectify that. Well, Efi couldn’t make a public statement on the news right now, but she could see to it that her friends got the recognition they deserved.
Efi climbed up onto the lunch table. “Attention, everyone. I would like to acknowledge the contributions of my two best friends, Hassana and Naade, in their efforts to build Orisa, the robot who scared off Doomfist.”
Hassana looked up at Efi, embarrassed. “Get down from there. The principal is coming!”
Efi glanced toward the administrative offices and saw Mr. Egwe walking toward them, his heavy metal footsteps clanking against the linoleum floor. Efi knew he did so on purpose, because he had been originally designed as a librarian, and his functionality took into account the need for quiet and discreetness. He meant to be loud and intimidating, but Efi didn’t dare budge from her perch overlooking the entire cafeteria.
“You congratulate me in the halls,” she shouted, “and I’m excited to talk to each and every one of you, but a
lso thank my two best friends when you see them. Because they are as big a part of this as I am.”
“Ms. Oladele,” the principal said. “Please come down from there, or you will have to face disciplinary actions.”
Efi stood still, her pristine academic career flashing before her eyes. But, no, this was just as important. Her friends had stood faithfully by her, and now it was her turn to do the same.
She continued. “Hassana is the creative mind behind Orisa’s new look. Everything that’s beautiful and graceful about that robot is due to her keen vision. She made Orisa a work of art. And Naade … you all should have seen the shape the OR15 chassis was in when it came to us. Busted and dented, nearly beyond recognition. Naade sculpted every piece of that metal until it was strong and sure. Without him, Orisa would have crumbled in battle. They are both heroes as well and should be celebrated as such.”
“Ms. Oladele,” the principal said, again, though this time the urgency was more pronounced. “Please, step down from there and come to my office.”
Efi had been to the principal’s office many times: when she’d received the Gallant Minds Award, for twenty consecutive honor rolls, for every science fair trophy presentation except for the one with the graviton incident. She knew the principal very well. This scowl along his brow was new, though—metal appendages jutting out from the chrome of his domed head. It was a prudent feature for an omnic principal, and it was very effective on Efi. She stepped down from the table, but the entire cafeteria started chanting all three of their names. Efi. Hassana. Naade.
Efi smiled to herself, even though she knew her day was only going to get worse.
“Detention!” Efi’s mother said, looking at her daughter like she was an alien. “Detention!”
It was the only word she’d said to Efi since she’d gotten home. Efi had never seen her mother this disappointed. Even after sneaking out of the house to go fight against bad guys, Efi hadn’t had this much of a guilt trip dropped on her. She was in trouble this time. Major trouble. Mother had a way with words, stressing different syllables with each repetition, so that Efi had to read between the lines to catch her meaning.
“Detention.” My daughter was acting up in front of the principal, after all these years of raising her to respect her elders and her community.
“But Mama, I—”
“Detention?” Couldn’t you have waited until after school? You’ve ruined your perfect record.
“I had to, Mama, because—”
“Detention!” There are repercussions for your actions.
Efi knew she had to think of something to pacify her mother. She started throwing out self-punishments. “I’ll clean my room. I’ll clean the whole house! I’ll have everything spotless.”
Mother shook her head sullenly. “Detention …”
That wasn’t cutting it. Efi upped the ante. “I’ll stop posting holovids for a week, a month. However long it takes to earn your trust back.”
Mother sighed. “Detention. Detention.”
Better, Efi thought. Mother seemed a little less bothered. Efi needed a big sacrifice, and she knew just the one to make. “No workshop for a week. No robots, either. I’ll … just interact with people. Dayo and I are going to be working on the fundraiser play anyway. I’ll be spending my time with his drama club. I’ll be out of the house, making new friends—”
“Efi,” her mother said. Finally! Actual words. “You better shine your eyes, my friend. I didn’t give birth to you just so you can kill me with worry. You need to start taking your actions seriously. I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately.”
Her mother sat down beside Efi on the bed. “Your father and I, we always expect some level of chaos from your inventions. It comes with having a daughter who’s a genius. But this robot has gotten you deeper and deeper into trouble.”
“Mama, I—”
“I’m not talking about the produce or the bridge or the other chaos you’ve caused, Efi. That robot led you into a confrontation with a terrorist. You could have died. We could have lost you. You’re an extraordinary person, but all this is starting to feel too big for one child.”
Efi bit her lip. She hated that word, but her mother was right and Efi knew it. She shouldn’t have followed Orisa to the museum, but it was like she couldn’t stop. Her body was moving before her mind connected with the logical functions of her brain. It was only after the confrontation had ended that she realized what she’d done. But even then she couldn’t bring herself to fully repent. Numbani needed a hero, and Orisa was becoming that. She was becoming hope for the people of Numbani to unite and fight back against Doomfist.
“You know how your father and I feel about Orisa. And you know what we discussed after the museum—she needs to stay out of danger.” Her mother’s face trembled for a moment as she took Efi’s hand. “You need to stay out of danger. No more second chances. Promise me you’ll think before you act next time.”
“I promise, Mummy.”
Her mother sighed once more for good measure, then left Efi alone in her room. “Detention, detention,” Efi heard her mother mumbling down the hall. As soon as the coast was clear, she messaged Hassana.
Efi had her friends back, but now she’d put Orisa in exile, and it wasn’t fair to the robot. She asked Hassana and Naade if they’d be willing to stop by the workshop to finish up the last of the repairs, and after that, if they could train Orisa while Efi prepped for the play. Naade could help out, too, with tactical improvements, even if all of this combat expertise came from watching action movies and playing video games.
A week would go by quickly. Or at least, that’s what Efi hoped.
Excited chattering filled the theater, accompanied by the smacking of wood and the clattering of metal. The set for the Unity Day play was being brought out of storage and reassembled. As soon as Efi walked in, she noticed the big frown on Joké’s face as she looked down at her tablet, and then back up at the stage. The props they’d spent so much time putting together were finally going to be used after all, but whoever had stored them hadn’t been very careful, and they were dinged up and scuffed.
Efi guessed that the downside of using junk to build props was that the junk seemed desperate to return to its previous state.
“Hey, Sam. Let’s get the skyline repainted. Dayo, check the lighting to see if any bulbs are damaged.” Joké looked back at Efi. “Oh, hey! Are you here to help out?”
“Definitely,” Efi said. “What do you want me to do?”
“Hmmm. How about ironing out the folds in the costumes?” Joké asked. “I wish we had something better to offer. I’ve tried to assign this job to three people now, and every time, they come back a few minutes later saying that something important has come up and they can’t do it.”
Efi grinned. “I’m happy to be involved in the play however I can. If ironing is what you need, you’re going to have the most unwrinkled costumes this theater has ever seen!”
“Whoa. Love the enthusiasm,” Joké said with a raised brow. “Costume trunk is over there.”
Efi nodded, hoping she wasn’t showing too much enthusiasm.
“Sam!” Joké yelled through cupped hands. “Put that down before something gets broken. We can’t afford to damage any more props!”
Efi looked up and saw Sam with the Doomfist gauntlet on, waving it around threateningly at the stagehands. They ignored him. “Hey, Joké, you ever consider turning this play into a rap battle? It might liven history up a bit.”
“I’d rather spare the audience from witnessing that particular talent of yours,” Joké grumbled. “Now get to work before I reassign you to the part of omnic number four.”
Sam grimaced. “You mean the one that gets clobbered by the Talon agents?”
Joké glowered at him.
“Point taken,” Sam said, then ran off toward the paint buckets sitting at the bottom of the plywood skyline.
Efi went over to the trunk, started pulling out costumes, and spread t
hem out on the floor. Most seemed in good shape, but a few were a mess, even from their short time of being packed away. Efi activated the ironing wand, and it emitted a warm orange light, but before she waved away a single wrinkle, Naade barged into the theater with Orisa in tow.
“Efi!” he said, completely flustered, arms flailing like a little kid. “Efi, I need your help!”
Efi looked around, embarrassed. Naade was supposed to be training Orisa on fighting tactics during this self-imposed robot hiatus, not embarrassing Efi in front of her new friends. Things had been going so well, but now the students were looking at her again, like she was almost, but not quite, one of them. She excused herself and met Naade halfway down the aisle.
“Naade,” Efi said out the side of her mouth. “Can it wait? I’m kind of in the middle of something.” Efi spared an awkward glance at her robot, making sure she was doing okay, but she didn’t look long. She knew she’d get in trouble if her mother found out she’d gone against her promise of not working with Orisa.
“It can’t wait. Something’s not right with her,” Naade said. “I was teaching her to use her hard-light lasso to grab small objects. You know, so she could do things like pull med packs away from injured people …”
“That sounds pretty awful,” Efi said with a frown on her face.
“Well, it doesn’t matter, because Orisa refused to do it. She said it conflicted with her programming, to protect the vulnerable and to be just and fair. But I told her she didn’t understand. I told her that Doomfist didn’t care about fair. He wants to cause chaos and wouldn’t think twice about hurting anyone who stood in his way. She still didn’t get it. So I showed her the …” Naade’s voice trailed off into a mumble at the end of the sentence.
“You showed her what?” Efi asked.
“The footage from the airport attack.”
The Hero of Numbani Page 14
