The Hero of Numbani

by Nicky Drayden

  Efi nodded, then practiced going over the scratch work from the previous question again. She pulled the graphing calculator close, spinning the holographic image around and studying it from all angles. She was glad she had her cousin to help her out both in and out of the classroom. He’d made the transition into high school so much easier.

  “That was fast,” Efi said, still fiddling with her graphing calculator when Dayo sat back down. Her unease grew the moment after the words came out of her mouth. She looked up. It was her cousin sitting across the table, but it wasn’t Dayo.

  Efi stiffened. She hadn’t told anyone what she’d seen at the museum. Her family was too disappointed in Bisi already, getting caught up with area boys in high school, then after that taste of power, he’d worked his way into organized crime, where his intellect was highly prized. She didn’t see the need to make things worse by telling her family that Bisi had gone on to become a Talon agent.

  Now here he sat. All those memories of the time before rushed to the front of her brain. Like when they’d made invisible ink together and had written all over the walls of Bisi’s home. Efi always smiled when she had dinner over there, knowing there was still that invisible dog she’d drawn right next to the china hutch. It pleased her that something so crudely drawn secretly existed in the room her auntie went through such lengths to keep posh and pristine.

  “Mind if we chat a bit?” Bisi asked. “It’s been so nice to see my little cousin all grown up and so smart.” He patted her head. If she wasn’t mad at him before, she was now.

  “Don’t touch me,” she growled, hard and firm.

  “Sorry, sorry,” he said, throwing his hands up. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you since the museum. I was impressed with how you handled yourself.”

  “You recognized me?”

  “Of course I recognized you! You don’t spend four hours hunched over a 3-D puzzle of the Horizon Lunar Colony with someone and forget what they look like.”

  “So you would have let Doomfist kill me?”

  Bisi scoffed. “I believed in you the whole time. I was rooting for you.”

  Efi wasn’t buying it. Not for a second. “What do you want? Dayo will be back any second, so you better spit it out quick.”

  “Oh, we’ve got some time. My brother will be tied up for a while, guaranteed.” Bisi ran his finger over the rim of Dayo’s tea cup, and suddenly Efi realized where she’d recognized the barista from. He’d been one of Doomfist’s lieutenants at the museum.

  “After all you’ve done to him, you had to poison him, too?” Efi said, slamming her hands down on the table. Her coffee nearly toppled over, but she didn’t care. Or maybe she did. It was still hot enough that she could use it as a weapon if it came to that.

  “Just a mild stomach irritant. He’ll become intimately familiar with the toilet here, but nothing more. You’ve got skill, Efi. I’m here to extend to you an opportunity to make a real impact in the world. Do you remember when you wanted a tool set and your parents got you that toy one?”

  Efi nodded.

  “And who saw that you needed something better? Something you could do real work with?”

  “You did,” she ground out.

  “I did, Efi. And here we are again. Only this time, these are the toys.” He gestured at her electronics sitting on the table. “And this is what you deserve to be using.” Bisi placed on the table a laptop that looked not much different than her own. When he opened it, instead of the fifteen-inch holoscreen she was used to working on, the holoprojection extended in all directions, creating a cockpit dashboard bigger than their table. He swiped the graphing calculator problem onto the laptop, and it lit up, answers and all, showing all the work in three different variations of proof styles.

  It pulled her in. She fed it a set of logic exercises that even the most advanced omnics struggled with, and it chewed through them all in a fraction of a second. Then she had it run AI wire-frame simulations, giving it specifications for a three-legged, top-heavy omnic, with a long appendage extending out back, and then sat back to see how long the wire frames took to figure out how to walk. Within four seconds, it was stumbling around. After six, it was walking steadily. And after ten seconds, it was running faster than a bio-enhanced world-class sprinter. Efi’s laptop always choked so hard when she attempted these types of simulations, and she usually had time to make herself a sandwich and catch an episode of the Overwatch cartoons before it finished processing.

  “You like that, huh?” Bisi said. Efi suddenly sat up, realizing that she’d been fussing with the machine for several minutes. “This is only the tip of the iceberg. Join Talon, and you’ll have your own workshop. One that will rival the best roboticists’ in the world. This is your chance to stop playing with childish things, Efi. To show everyone you aren’t a kid anymore.”

  Efi and Bisi were drawing stares from the other customers. She slammed the laptop shut and shook her head. “I will not join you. I would never disappoint my parents the way you have. How did you know I would be here anyway? Have you been spying on me?” Efi gulped. Had he hacked her computer? What else did he know about her? And if he knew, then Talon knew.

  Bisi laughed. “I’m starting to get the feeling that you’ve bought into all the lies the media has made up about our organization.”

  “Is the terror the people of Numbani have been suffering a lie? Did Doomfist not break out of prison and steal the gauntlet?”

  Bisi leaned back and crossed his arms. “Akande escaped his unlawful imprisonment and reclaimed his own property. He’s a hero and a visionary who wants nothing but to protect humanity.” Her cousin leaned into the table then, and met her eye. “There are two sides to every coin. Overwatch isn’t exactly innocent of shedding blood, you know.”

  “But they fight for justice and equality. What do you fight for?”

  “Power,” Bisi said. “The power to shape the world into what it needs to be. To make it stronger. Better. Just like that robot you built. Orisa, right? I’ve never seen anything like it. You’re one of us, Efi. You just haven’t accepted it yet.”

  “I’m nothing like you,” Efi said. “And there’s nothing you can say to change my mind.”

  Bisi smiled. “Do you ever wonder who nominated you for the Adawe grant? Maybe you ought to use that genius brain of yours to think on that.” Bisi looked up suddenly, over Efi’s shoulder, with a fearful look on his face. Efi turned and saw Dayo stumbling out of the restroom, hand still clenching his stomach. Efi looked back at Bisi, but he was gone. The laptop remained.

  “Ugh,” Dayo said, taking an oh-so-delicate seat on the chair. He winced as his rear made contact with the seat. “Something I ate today really messed me up. I think I’m going to have to—” He saw the laptop. “What’s this?”

  “It’s nothing,” Efi said, but she couldn’t stop staring at it. Had Doomfist been the one who nominated her for the Genius Grant? He had the pull, definitely. And at the museum, he had said that he was a fan of hers, but was he the fan who’d signed that anonymous message? Efi shuddered at the thought of owing Orisa’s creation to the one person she wanted to bring down.

  Efi built Orisa, making sure her robot was as resilient as possible. As powerful as possible, and she owed that to the chaos that Doomfist had caused. On that note, Bisi’s argument was sound. It was logical, even, and Efi couldn’t help but be intrigued by a good logic problem. However, Efi had also given Orisa compassion. That robot of hers was compassionate to a fault. And it wasn’t a flaw, Efi now realized, but a feature that separated people like her from people like Bisi and Doomfist.

  “It’s nothing,” she said again, and this time she felt it through her entire self. She helped Dayo pack up his things and left the laptop where it sat.

  Efi made her way home, still shaken from her encounter with Bisi. Her workshop had grown stuffy, so she opened the windows despite the gloom that lurked past the sill. High above in the sky, she saw a Sky Postal delivery drone heading her way, carrying a
big box. She shuddered at seeing how high up it was flying, wondering how she’d ever gotten the nerve to ride one. But she knew how. She’d done it for love. She loved Orisa. She always had and always would. She finally understood what her grandfather had meant.

  The drone didn’t bank left or right; it kept coming right toward her building. Then it zeroed in on her, flew through her window, and deposited the box on the floor. She wasn’t expecting a delivery, but her name was on it. She pressed her thumb on the pad to accept it, then the drone took off, back through the window.

  Weird.

  She carefully opened the box, and when she saw the Volskaya Industries logo on the inside, she knew immediately what it was. There was a note tucked in with the packing material. She read it:

  A wave of excitement washed over Efi. A miniature Tobelstein reactor. Lúcio had gotten her a reactor! But …

  But …

  Big but.

  She didn’t know if she could use it. Would she ever boot up Orisa again? She walked over to the robot, now a cold metal husk.

  Doing something to help protect Numbani hadn’t worked the way Efi had wanted it to.

  But not doing anything felt much worse.

  A knock came on her workshop door. Efi turned around and saw her mother. “Efi—”

  “I know, Mama, I know. I’m sending it back.”

  “That’s what I’ve come to talk you about. The Tumblestone Reactor.”

  “Tobelstein, Mama.”

  “That’s what I said. Now your father and I are wondering if we’ve given you too much freedom, because you’ve got a whole Lúcio chatting us up, asking for permission to give you that reactor.”

  Suddenly, Efi’s head was spinning. “You chatted with Lúcio?” The casual way her mother had said it, it was like she’d chatted with Mrs. Eni about her cats’ dander problems.

  “Such a nice boy.”

  “Boy? Mama, that’s Lúcio! The Lúcio. He’s an international celebrity! Sold out every single seat on his world tour! He’s one of the biggest freedom fighters of this century!”

  “And so? I said that he was a nice boy. He really believes in you. There are people all over this city who believe in you. Maybe we should have believed harder in you as well. It’s made us reconsider.”

  Efi shook her head. “I tried so hard to make the perfect protector for Numbani, but all she did was destroy stuff and hurt people.”

  “That’s not all she did. She taught you about responsibility. And friendship. She got you out and even more invested in our community. Maybe Orisa doesn’t have to be perfect. Maybe she doesn’t have to keep Numbani perfectly safe. Maybe if you and Orisa can make the world just a little better, that will be enough.” There were tears in her mother’s eyes.

  “Are you crying?” Efi asked her mother.

  “It’s hard watching you grow up so fast. But I’m proud of you.” She still lingered in the doorway. Efi decided she should invite her in.

  “Do you want to help?” Efi asked, holding up a box cutter.

  Mother laughed and came into the workshop. She took the cutter and slid it along the seam of the box, revealing the reactor.

  “Looks complicated,” she said.

  “It’s mostly plug and play. Easy compared to that Junkertown reactor.”

  “Junker reactor?” her mother said with an arched brow.

  “Nothing. Here, let’s get this thing out of the box.”

  They worked together, Efi explaining to her mother as they went. After the reactor was installed, they spent the rest of the afternoon restoring Orisa’s compassion module. Efi promised herself it was the last time she’d tinker with Orisa’s programming. From now on, she’d let her robot grow organically into whatever she was meant to be. And Efi couldn’t wait to see who that was.

  “Okay, this is it,” Efi said as she was ready to boot her robot back up. “Do you want to do the honors?”

  “Oh, Efi, I think I will leave that to you. Just remember the guidelines, and … stay safe, okay?” Mother looked like she was about to cry again.

  “Do you need a hug, Mama?”

  “I’d love one,” she said, then squeezed Efi tightly. Efi didn’t try to wriggle free. She just enjoyed it. “Good luck.” Her mother smiled, rubbed Efi’s back one last time, and left her daughter to her work.

  Efi initiated the boot sequence and brought Orisa back online. Efi did a little dance, and Orisa reciprocated, shaking all that titanium in a robotic groove.

  “I’m glad to have you back,” Efi said.

  “It’s good to be back,” said Orisa. “I am at your service.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Sad,” the robot said after a long pause. “I remember I hurt a boy. He was in pain. Why did you disable my compassion module? I didn’t get to apologize to him. To make things right.”

  Efi shook her head. “I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. It was me who didn’t want to deal with compassion. I got so focused on getting to Doomfist and keeping everyone else happy, I didn’t consider your feelings. I was wrong, and I’m sorry. But I think I have a way to make it up to you. Lúcio’s performing a Unity Day concert, and we’ve got front row seats.”

  “Please repeat. I believe my auditory sensors are malfunctioning. It sounded like you said that I am going to Lúcio’s concert.”

  “That’s what I said.” Efi giggled. “And you’ll be the star of the show. But we have to review one very important protocol before the concert,” Efi said, then she tapped a button on her tablet, brought up the Lúcio playlist, and pressed play. A hypnotic beat filled the room, and the two friends began to dance.

  The weather couldn’t be more perfect. Then again, Efi was sure that no rain cloud would dare cast its shadow over Unity Plaza on the day Lúcio was scheduled to perform. In the quiet of an early morning Saturday, the view of Numbani couldn’t have been more spectacular. The sun glinted off the sleek skyscrapers surrounding them, and past that, Efi could barely make out the golden glow of the savanna beyond.

  “We are very lucky to live here,” Orisa said, standing next to Efi. Efi spooked at the break in silence. She’d nearly been in a meditative state.

  “Yes,” said Efi. She now realized this was Orisa’s first time taking it all in. Efi could hear the awe in her robot’s voice. Sometimes, when you live in such an amazing place, it just becomes normal, but seeing it now, through Orisa’s eyes, Efi felt re-energized.

  From behind them, someone cleared their throat. Efi spun around and nearly fell over the balcony railing when she saw who it was.

  Lúcio stuck out his hand and grabbed hers, pulling her back to safety. Then he nodded, the large beads at the ends of his locs clacking against each other. “Lúcio Correia dos Santos at your service. You must be Efi,” he said, skates moving backward and forward, like he was effortlessly treading water on cement. The skates seemed so much larger in person, big blue and green haunches that ran from his hips to his feet, the hard-light energy buzzing so intensely that Efi could feel it vibrating through the heels of her boots. Efi stood there in shock. She knew she was going to meet Lúcio today, but somehow, she hadn’t fully prepared herself with how amazing it would be to stand so close to her biggest hero.

  Lúcio smiled as he shook her trembling hand, then his eyes went wide, as if he didn’t know whether to be intimidated or impressed by the robot standing next to her. Maybe he was both. “And, whoa, this … this is Orisa? Unreal!”

  “It’s so nice to meet you in person,” Efi finally managed to utter. “This is like a dream come true.” Efi’s thoughts surged through her brain. She didn’t know where to start. She wanted to thank him—for this fundraiser concert, for the reactor, for believing in her. Efi knew that as soon as she opened her mouth, senseless blather would fall out, and she had to keep her cool in front of her hero. So instead, she kept it calm and simple. “How has your stay in Numbani been so far?”

  Apparently Orisa wasn’t as successful at containing her excitement�
�her rear end wagging like an excited puppy dog, her head cocked and her eyes starry … like literally, her eyes had reconfigured into the shape of stars. Efi hadn’t even known they could do that.

  “This is my kind of city! Everyone’s free to live how they choose. Friendly faces, sweet acoustics. And the coffee is kickin’,” Lúcio said, raising the to-go Kọfị Aromo cup in his hand. The jet lag was probably getting to him.

  “I study at Kọfị Aromo sometimes. I like their tea, too. Sometimes I get hot cocoa. I think it’s just Milo, but they put lots of whipped cream on it, so I don’t care.” Efi gritted her teeth. Was she really making small talk with Lúcio? The only thing worse than geeking out in front of Lúcio was lulling him back to sleep with talk of her favorite hot beverages. “I’m boring you, aren’t I?”

  Lúcio laughed. “Nah, it’s nice to have a normal conversation with someone. Really, Efi, what you did with Orisa, what you’re doing with your community, I think it’s amazing.” He took a turn around Orisa, stopping when he came to the supercharger. “Hey, this is painted up to look like one of those talking drums … gangan, right?”

  “Yes, but it doesn’t work,” Efi said.

  “Orisa, you mind if I jam with it for a minute? I’m pretty sure superchargers share some tech with my sonic amplifier.”

  “I would be honored,” Orisa said with a bow, then in a single graceful motion, she unmounted her supercharger and placed it on the ground.

  Lúcio pulled a set of tools out of his backpack and got to work breaking down the device until he had a pile of components laid out in front of him. “You know, I’ve been checking out your holovids,” he said as he worked. “I’ve seen all the troubles you’ve pulled through. And your vision for your city resonates right here.” Lúcio tapped his chest with his fist.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I feel the same about you and what you’ve done for Rio. And what you’ve done for the world. How do you have such confidence?”

  “I started small, just like you, by making changes in my favela. Did my best to make sure all the kids got healthy meals and all the libraries had books to lend. I surrounded myself with good people who also wanted to make a difference.” He winked at Orisa, and she waved back. “I did what I could to make sure my people had healthy bodies and healthy minds, so we could work together to solve our other problems.”