“Put your mobile phone away while you cross, sir.”
“I have sent you the directions you need, ma’am. Please, check your mobile device.”
“It is safe to cross, ma’am.”
The robot was over nine feet tall, appeared to be made of solid steel and had a solar panel and short antennae on top of its head. Broad chested and straight hipped, its shape quite male, despite its feminine voice. Above its head were three large hovering bat-like objects. Drones. The robot stiffly motioned with its expansive arms for traffic on Sankofa’s side of the road to move and the other side to stop, its eyes flashing green.
This was the third one of these that she’d seen since leaving home, but this was the first she’d seen that was fully functioning. They were called “robocops” and they were supposedly artificially intelligent. If anything, she was sure they at least were connected to the internet and could scan and search every person around it for information.
As if to prove this, the robocop turned to her as she stood there. It was probably scanning her for any kind of tech so that it could digitally send her a “Welcome to RoboTown” message. How would it react when it realized she didn’t even carry a charity mobile? As she walked along the side of the road, following a group of chatty men, one of the robocop’s drones flew overhead, black and beetle-like.
“It is safe to cross, kind sirs and young lady,” the robocop said, holding up a large metal three-fingered hand and flashing its eyes red at all traffic. As Sankofa passed it with the others, it turned and watched her. Her, not the others. The drone still hovered directly overhead. Her neck prickled, but she moved as if she belonged there. I am Sankofa, I belong wherever I want to belong, she thought to herself, walking with her chin up and back straight. She’d been curious about RoboTown for a while and she would satisfy her curiosity starting tonight.
Once across the street, the drones returned to the robocop. As she walked toward the busier part of the town, Sankofa chanced a look over her shoulder. The robot was still watching her, as it conducted traffic.
It was early evening when Sankofa strolled into the market, so it was still open. One section was especially active and well lit, the one where electronics were sold. There were lines and crowds here. Various booths and small shops sold accessories, connection links, and various devices like personal windows, magnetic earbuds, jelli tellis, mobiles.
There was a festive vibe and Sankofa wondered if it was like this every night. Hawkers came to feed the people standing in lines or who’d just bought their items. Friends met up with friends. The excitement was infectious and Sankofa found herself smiling. She slowly ambled along, grasping her satchel, listening and watching. People were too busy looking at blinking glowing shining things to notice her and this was a joy in itself.
However, eventually someone did recognize her and… then there was nearly chaos. First there was pointing. Then women selling the electronics rushed and stood protectively in front of their booths as Sankofa passed. Those who were hand-selling cheap mobiles, tablets, windows, clutched their goods and scrambled away from her. One man tripped over his own feet, dropping his armful of chargers and batteries. He got to his knees right there in the dirt and snatched up his tangle of chargers and plugs and as many of the flat black batteries as he could and then ran off. People knew exactly who she was, which meant they knew that her presence destroyed tech. But they didn’t know enough to know that it was only destroyed when she touched it.
Sankofa came to a large shop embedded in a tall red-brick building. It was called Mr. Starlit Electronics and there was a line coming out of it so long that it wrapped around the building three times. Those in front of the line looked exhausted, sitting on the ground with food packages and opened bottles of water.
A woman in a bright red sundress stood to the side of the line smoking a cigarette. Sankofa and the woman noticed each other at the same time. The woman took another puff from her cigarette and narrowed her eyes. Sankofa clutched her satchel and eyed the woman right back. Her observant eye reminded Sankofa of the robocop. A ripple of murmurs flew through the line as Sankofa passed the shop.
“Girl!”
Sankofa stopped beside an electronics repair booth. The two women in the booth had already retreated inside, cowering like bush rats. Sankofa was glad to have a reason to turn away from them. “Yes?” she said to the smoking woman, curious about her lack of fear.
The woman motioned for Sankofa to come back and Sankofa obliged. A few of the people in line rushed off, but most, though clearly terrified, kept their precious spots. Sankofa stepped up to the woman and the woman smiled at her. For several moments, the two gazed at each other. She was a tall big woman and both of her arms were heavily tattooed. Sankofa had seen plenty of women with tattoos, they had things like hearts, boyfriends’ names, sexy animals, symbols chosen by local juju men. Never had she seen anyone, woman or man, with tattoos of circuitry. Just like the insides and parts of computers she saw sold in every market she passed through. This woman had them running up both her arms like a disease.
“You’re smaller than I imagined you,” she said with a smirk. She took a puff from her cigarette and exhaled the smoke. It smelled sweet and heady. This was the type of cigarette that made people see God, slowed time and attracted happiness.
“Maybe your imagination is not big enough,” Sankofa said. “Is this your shop?”
The woman blinked and then her smile grew wider. “I think you are the first person in a long time to ask me that. Most people ask for ‘Mr. Starlit.’”
“Well, who is Mr. Starlit?”
“An idea born from fear,” she said. “I was too afraid to call it Mrs. Starlit. That was a long time ago, though.”
“Why did you call me over?” Sankofa asked.
The woman crossed her arms over her chest, inspecting Sankofa as if she were the daughter of her best friend. “I like to look into the eyes of hurricanes,” she said. She looked around and then said, “Come. I know the routine with you. I’ll make you dinner.” Then she turned and walked past the line to the store’s front door.
People in line gawked at Sankofa as she followed the woman. One man even grabbed the woman’s arm and whispered something in her ear as he stared at Sankofa. “I know exactly who she is,” the woman snapped in English. She switched back to Twi, “Relax and mind your business.” Then she turned to Sankofa, took her hand and said, “Move quickly,” as she pulled Sankofa into her shop. Sankofa looked back at people in line just in time to see a man sneer at her. However, no one else left the line. There were jelli tellis stretched across the wall showing the clearest 3D films she’d ever seen, pocket windows on display pedestals, colorful air plugs and other electronic gear; her shop was packed. American music played and the store smelled like the sweat of its anxious customers.
Sankofa walked past all this, holding the woman’s hand. They walked through another door and emerged in back of the building. Here, more people milled around. These ones wore suits and ties. The women wore American-style dresses and pants, too much makeup and fake-looking long-haired weaves with those blue glowing tubes Sankofa saw women in commercials wearing. And it was clear that many of the women flash-bleached their skin, a practice that Sankofa, someone who glowed a dangerous green every so often, could never understand. There were about thirty of them and they all stopped talking when they saw the woman holding Sankofa’s hand. When they noticed Sankofa, the whispering began.
“Alhaja,” one man said, stepping forward. He carried a glass of what looked like beer and wore a tan suit that looked cartoonish in its perfection. “Do you know who that is??”