The Hero of Numbani Page 10

  Efi rushed to Unity Plaza, taking a series of catwalks most of the way to avoid the traffic in the streets below. Buses made their way through the bustle of rush hour, and above, trams soared along elevated tracks. Usually, she felt Numbani worked like a well-tuned machine—people, technology, and nature existing in harmony—but today, things were different. At first, it was a vague feeling in the pit of her stomach, but when Efi started to cross the street, she heard a blaring horn coming right at her. The man standing behind her yanked her back onto the curb, out of the way of an oncoming tour bus. It sped past her, and Efi caught a glimpse of the omnic driver as the whoosh of air sucked against her skin.

  Efi’s heart raced. Had she been so distracted that she’d tried to cross at the wrong time? She looked up. The crossing light beamed WALK at her.

  “Watch where you’re driving, tin can!” the man yelled, shaking his fist at the back of the tour bus.

  Efi was disturbed by the slur the man used, but he’d just saved her life, so she mumbled a quick “Thank you,” then crossed the street, carefully, before ducking into the grocery store.

  After taking a few deep breaths, she made her way to the produce section. Efi shoved a dozen pears into a woven bag, then presented them to Mr. Bankolé, the grocer her family had been going to since forever.

  “Hello, Efi,” Mr. Bankolé said. “How is that robot of yours coming along?”

  “Nearly done now, Uncle.”

  “Good, good.” He looked at the pears and raised his bushy brow. “Is your mother making her famous jam?”

  “Yes, Uncle,” Efi said, her patience starting to thin. It seemed like such a trivial thing. She didn’t have to be there exactly when the robot came online. The OR15 would wait for her return to receive the first command. And yet, Efi knew she didn’t want to miss seeing the robot’s first moment of consciousness for the world.

  Mr. Bankolé started to count the pears, resting after each number, like he had to gather his thoughts to remember the next.

  “One …”

  “Two …”

  “Three—”

  “Twelve!” Efi shouted, then clapped her hands over her mouth. She hadn’t meant it to come out so rudely. “Sorry, Uncle. A dozen. That’s how many pears are there. I’m in sort of a hurry.” She smiled politely, teetering back and forth on the balls of her feet. “Please put it on my mother’s account.”

  “Twelve pears on your mother’s account. Will do, Efi. And bring that robot around when you’re done. My back has been slipping up on me lately. I could use some extra help in the stock room.”

  Efi perked at the idea. It wasn’t a glamorous job, but a stock room would be an excellent testing ground for the robot’s spatial and dexterity functions. “Sure, Uncle. I’d love to help.”

  And with that, Efi was running back home. The catwalks were completely crammed with people now, and the streets were no better, but she did know a shortcut. Efi doubled back and took another catwalk, eyes focused on the Bello tower where cousin Dayo lived.

  A minute later, she was banging on his door. He liked to listen to his music way too loud, and it was the only way he’d hear her. Finally, he answered.

  “Efi?” he said. “Hello! What a surprise.”

  Before she could properly greet him, she was running straight through his living room. “Good evening, Uncle Dayo!” she shouted behind her, using the title of respect for her older cousin in case her auntie was around listening. She didn’t have time to spare for Auntie Yewande’s lectures on proper etiquette. “See you, Uncle Dayo!” And then she was out on his back patio.

  Beautiful sprays of greenery cascaded over the rails. She hopped over the railing, down to the next patio, and the next. “Sorry!” she said as she landed on a dog’s squeaky toy. The dog cocked its head and started panting. Not a lick of fear for strangers. Efi imagined a city where everyone could feel so safe. Her OR15 could give them that. Would give them that once more.

  She hopped the final railing and was back on the catwalk that led to her home. After a short ride up the elevator, she placed the bag of pears on the kitchen counter, gave her mother a dùbalè—an extra deep curtsy, then ran as fast as she could, back to her workshop. The robot was still slumped forward, eyes dull gray and lifeless. Efi looked at the screen and breathed a sigh of relief.

  She’d made it. Barely. At least her little errand had made the time pass faster. The progress bar ticked up to 99 percent, and after one final tick, it turned green and played another merry tune.

  The OR15 still stood there, slumped over. After a few more seconds, golden light flickered in her eyes, then went dark again. Two more flickers, and they lit up fully. The robot stood up straight, steadied her four legs underneath herself, and raised her arms up to her sides, ready for action.

  “New personality module installed. System rebooting. OR15 online,” she said. And her voice was like magic, cut from the fabric of the women Efi looked up to the most.

  Efi thrust a victorious fist into the air. Her heart was beating so fast, Efi thought it was about to leap out of her chest, and her smile stretched so wide it made her face hurt. She looked up at the robot with a chuckle. “But that name. No, that’s no good. Every great hero needs a real name.” This robot would be Numbani’s protector and savior; she needed a name that would carry with it great weight and honor. “What about … Orisa?” Efi said. The thought had come to her as naturally as breathing, named for the spirit gods of her people.

  “My name is Orisa,” the robot said, settling back onto her haunches and nodding once, as if the name suited her. But in the next instant, she was back on high alert, golden eyes narrowed into slits and trained firmly on Efi. “I will keep you safe. That is my primary function.”

  Efi itched all over with the desire to take the robot out into the world right this instant and to prove that it would be the perfect hero for Numbani. Her head danced with images of Orisa battling Talon agents and whipping them so badly that they’d never set foot in her city again. She imagined her robot defeating Doomfist once and for all, and how afterward the people would cheer her robot when they saw her on the streets, and maybe they would cheer a little for Efi, too, because, well, why not? They were a team, right? Efi could only spare a moment to bask in these imaginary victories, though, because she knew the real work was just beginning.

  First there was testing to do. Efi guided Orisa through a series of logic exercises, and she passed them all beautifully. The dexterity test hadn’t gone so well. The robot had been tasked with handling various objects, each more fragile than the last. The first three, Orisa had handled just fine, but the fourth …

  Efi looked down at the busted glass on the floor and frowned. Maybe she shouldn’t have used her mother’s favorite vase as a test object. “It’s okay, Orisa,” Efi said reassuringly. “I’ll make a few tweaks to your dexterity matrix, and you’ll be better than ever.”

  “Your efforts are appreciated,” Orisa said, giving Efi a small bow. Efi liked the feeling. She hadn’t really had the chance to be an elder to anyone yet, but now she had created something—no, someone—truly amazing. She felt all the pride and excitement of a new parent.

  Efi reached down to pick up the glass shards, but one of them managed to poke through a thin spot on her gloves. She seethed, watching as blood bloomed through the leather. She took the glove off, then assessed the cut. Not too deep, thankfully. Before Efi could retrieve her first-aid kit, Orisa took the hurt hand in hers. The robot’s eyelids twisted, configuring so that the golden light in her eyes was focused into severe slits.

  “You are hurt. I am here to help,” Orisa declared.

  Efi tried to wriggle free from Orisa’s grip, but people weren’t meant to get free from Orisa’s massive fist, unless that’s what the robot wanted. “Unhand me, please,” Efi said. “I’m fine. It’s just a small cut.”

  “You are injured. It is my duty to assist.”

  “Okay, okay,” Efi said, finally giving in. A little first
-aid administration test wasn’t a horrible idea. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  Orisa raised her other arm, the one with the hard-light caster, and pointed it at Efi’s finger. “I am here to assist. Commencing wound cauterization sequence.” A green laser in the center of the device began to light up. Efi could already feel the heat coming off it.

  “Wait, what?” Efi screamed. “What are you going to do?”

  “The cauterization process is one in which bleeding is stopped by the application of tremendous heat directly to the wound. My programming suggests that you will be more willing to comply if I tell you a reassuring lie to help mask the enormity of the pain from this procedure,” Orisa said. She then cocked her head sweetly and looked Efi right in the eyes. “Stay still. This will only hurt a little.”

  “All I need is a bandage!” Efi said, and she definitely did not feel reassured. “Let me go!”

  “I cannot. You may be in a delirious state from the injury you have sustained. Please stay still. This is for your own safety.”

  Efi tried to reason with the robot, appealing to all the protocols she’d built into the personality core, but Orisa would not comply. There was a logic error somewhere in the robot’s code, but there was no time for diagnostics. Efi was about to be on the wrong end of a laser that could cut through steel like it was butter. Then Efi remembered one special protocol that she had added to the personality core, one the robot couldn’t ignore.

  Efi shouted out to the voice command on her Junie, “Play ‘We Move Together as One’ by Lúcio!” Her Junie complied, and her favorite song filled the workshop with a hypnotic beat. Nearly instantly, the rhythm consumed her body, and the fear that had tightened her chest melted away.

  It was that good a song.

  Orisa felt it, too. Her laser powered down, and her grip on Efi’s hand loosened enough that she could slip free. Orisa’s head bobbed to the beat, ever so slightly. One of her feet tapped the floor. Moments later, she was dancing. Efi joined her. “Efi Protocol #4: When Lúcio drops a beat, stop whatever you’re doing and dance.” Before the song ended, she grabbed a bandage from the first-aid kit, treated her wound, and then was back at Orisa’s side, right as the electronic beats faded into nothingness.

  Orisa glanced down at the finger and deemed it properly cared for with a nod of her head. Efi breathed a sigh of relief. She couldn’t get upset with Orisa. The robot was only two hours old, after all.

  “So, there are a few bugs to work out, but you did great today, Orisa. Tomorrow, we will test your weapons systems.” Efi pointed to a life-sized cardboard cutout sitting in the middle of her workshop. “That’s Doomfist. He has destroyed so much of the peace within Numbani. He is our enemy. We must stop him at all costs.”

  “Your enemy is made from cardboard,” Orisa said. “Threat level zero.”

  “No, this isn’t actually him. It’s just a representation.”

  “Your cardboard enemy poses no harm. You are safe.”

  Efi tried to mentally prepare herself for another frustrating argument with the robot, but looking into Orisa’s cross-cut eyes, she saw how hard the robot was trying. It was obvious the robot wanted to please Efi, staying true to both her programming and her creator. Efi patted the robot on the knee and smiled.

  “You’re right, Orisa,” Efi said, leaning up against her new robot. Her new friend. When she’d started this project, Efi had thought she’d be spending most of her time teaching the robot everything she knew, but it looked like Orisa would also be teaching Efi a few things as well … namely how to be patient and how to see the world in a brand-new light.

  And the funny thing was, standing there next to Orisa, Efi did feel safe.

  After two days of laying the ground rules, Efi was more than excited to take Orisa’s weapons for a test run. She used the term “weapons” loosely. She’d found a way to bypass the field stabilizer on the hard-light caster, so instead of only throwing energy lassos and traps, it could also shoot low-impact projectiles. The lavender-colored light orbs hit with all the punch of a wet, balled-up sock, which meant she wouldn’t have to worry about her robot causing any actual damage around Numbani. That was a good thing, but it also meant her robot was far from being able to stand up to a serious threat.

  Either way, target practice would be beneficial to Orisa, so she and Efi ran to the station to catch a tram to the outskirts of Numbani, where the bright blue sky kissed the golden brown of the savanna grasses as far as the eye could see … and you didn’t get a public disturbance ticket if you pelted the trees with balls of energy.

  “Brilliant style,” one of the omnics shouted at Orisa from across the street, a model with a smooth metal head plate with three blue lights. “Did you get that cover sash at Sigma Bot Couture?”

  Efi had never seen a robot blush, but Orisa was really trying. Even if Hassana had abandoned their project, Efi had to admit, she’d done her job making Orisa look fashionable.

  “Thank you,” Orisa said, stopping in her tracks. She looked the omnic up and down. “It appears that your processor is having difficulties in coordinating the color hues of your wardrobe. Do you require assistance in calibrating your visual sensors?”

  Efi bit her lip. She was just getting to know Orisa, but it sounded a lot like her robot had told the omnic that his clothes were mismatched.

  The omnic turned on his heel and stormed off without another word.

  “Did I say something wrong?” Orisa asked.

  “Well, you sort of insulted that poor omnic.” Efi smiled. “But it’s okay. You’re still learning. Next time, just say thank you, and compliment something back … even if it’s a tiny little lie.”

  “Calibrating empathy module,” Orisa said. “I do not wish to offend.”

  “Come on,” Efi said as they continued on their way to the tram stop. “It’s important to be polite. People do those kinds of things for each other—holding open a door for an elder to pass through, offering to help an auntie who’s carrying a big load. There’s help around every corner here. That’s one of the things I love most about Numbani.”

  There were a few dozen people waiting at the stop, mostly humans, but a good share of omnics, too. Efi walked up to the kiosk and leaned forward for the optical scanner. A green line of light slid down her face, then her profile came up on the holoscreen. She purchased two tickets to Concord Station.

  The whistle of the oncoming tram meant they’d soon be on their way. The tram pulled into the station, a bullet-shaped train with five separate cars. Efi stood back as people disembarked onto the platform opposite them, then the doors on their side opened and the passengers filed in. Orisa stood aside and said, “After you,” to Efi. Efi smiled and walked into the tram car. She’d started looking for a seat when the horrible sound of metal on metal snatched her attention back to Orisa. Her hind legs were pressing up against the doorframe.

  Orisa tried to brute force her way in, and Efi winced as the frame started to bend under the pressure.

  “Wait! Stop!” called a human attendant from behind Orisa.

  “Stop, Orisa!” Efi commanded, and her robot complied, backing up a meter.

  “This robot is not built to specifications,” the attendant shouted to Efi. “It cannot board.”

  “Orisa is very much built to standard specifications. I triple-checked her measurements myself. It is your door that’s not up to accessibility standards.”

  Orisa assessed the door. “Efi is correct. These doors are not up to Numbani code. They are too narrow by six centimeters.”

  The attendant stood there, looking perplexed at the robot then back at Efi with a sternness sitting on her brow.

  “Well?” Efi said. “What are you going to do?”

  “We can refund your tickets,” the attendant said flatly, with less remorse than a robot with a broken empathy module.

  “I don’t want a refund. I want to go to Concord Station! With my friend here,” she added before the attendant got a chance to say so
mething even more insulting. Efi would file a report with Numbani transit, but she didn’t want to let someone’s oversight ruin her day. “Let’s go,” Efi said to Orisa. “We’ll just walk.”

  “Efi,” Orisa said, once they were back on the street. “Are you in satisfactory condition? Your pulse has increased. Do you need a hug?”

  Efi nodded. She did. She was frustrated. She hated seeing Numbani like this. She missed her old city, when if a problem surfaced, someone was always happy to step in and fix it. She didn’t like the cold stares. The pointing fingers. The indifference that infected the city as of late.

  “Thank you,” Efi said as those big, weaponized arms wrapped around her. Orisa cared, even if no one else did. Efi should have felt as fragile as a toothpick within that embrace, but instead, she felt even stronger. “You give good hugs.”

  “You are welcome, Efi,” Orisa said. “Your face is not at all displeasing by human standards. Even when it is leaking.”

  Efi laughed and wiped away a tear. “Is that your attempt at a compliment?”

  “Yes. Was it satisfactory?”

  “Yes,” Efi said. “It was satisfactory. I feel much better.”

  Orisa perked, stomping her feet underneath her like an excited pony, and together they walked toward the edge of the city. They’d only gone a few dozen blocks when Efi saw something that rubbed her the wrong way. A row of cars were parked under the pedestrian bridge, caught by harsh noonday shadows. A human stood at one of the cars, a tablet in his hands. Efi could see on the screen that it was cycling through key codes.

  “I think that guy is trying to break into that car,” Efi whispered.

  Orisa looked over and saw him. “Perhaps he has forgotten his key,” she said.

  “But look how nervous and sweaty he is.”

  “Perhaps he has recently completed a vigorous workout,” Orisa replied. “Like one of those people.” She pointed up at the pedestrian bridge. Efi could just make out the heads of joggers bobbing up and down, running between the enormous gazelle statues that stood at each end.