President Ojwang slept the sleep of the powerful and reveled in dreams of greatness.

  In this dreamlike reality, matter molded itself to his petty interests. He reaped the rewards of executing his miraculous plans. He had eliminated his sworn enemies, the mediums, in one fell swoop. He was hailed as a hero, he always saw himself that way. In dreams, desiring beings revel in their pettiest aspirations.

  What an hour! The call from the presidential phone woke him up. Bored, he got out of bed and snatched the phone. He rubbed his eyes and, his voice hoarse from sleep, asked why the call was so intrusive.

  “Your Excellency, President Ojwang, we are in a state of emergency level five.”

  The politician soon recognized the alarmed voice of his special advisor. Lomungo gasped between the pauses that his interlocutor left open.

  “Keep control, Mr. Lomungo. Tell me, who triggered the alarm?”

  “General Luena, sir. She's already on her way to the underground laboratories. The rebels have broken into the facilities below the Iroko Tree.”

  For a brief moment, Ojwang felt very dizzy. He sat up in bed. Things had accelerated too quickly. The death of General Gahiji, the union between Akachi's group and the Ilu Nla Liberation Movement, and Adisa's fig had given the mediums self-confidence.

  One doubt hung over his head: what role would the funeral directors play in the unfolding of these events? He was already expecting a move from the assassins' leaders. He just didn't know when it would happen, but it didn't seem to be long in coming.

  Startled, he got out of bed a second time. He immediately put on his clothes, not the suit that gave him the image of a head of state, but the white lab coat of a scientist. While getting dressed, he asked his aide for a brief report.

  “Sir, the defense systems have been infected with a virus. But only the Cyber Troops sector was affected.”

  “A clever maneuver on the part of my enemies. I suppose it's old Adisa playing tricks on them.”

  “Shrewd as ever, sir.”

  “He knew it would be impossible to get past the firewall. He concentrated his efforts on a single sector. Little does he know that any attempt to break into any of our facilities soon reveals the position of the attacker. I created the monitoring trigger myself. Poor Adisa, he dug his own grave.”

  Ojwang, now calmer, walked to the bedroom door and picked up a holographic cube from a desk. He turned the handle, took three deep breaths and opened the door. Unsurprisingly, he saw a large number of employees. Each one more agitated than the next.

  Bureaucrats from the government and the Armed Forces, each with their own demands in hand. With a wave of his hand, he silenced everyone.

  “Check the hacker's location, and bomb the enemy. It doesn't matter where he is in our country. Bring Lomungo and Jitujeusi to me, I need them urgently. Wait for further instructions.”

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Ignoring everyone, Ojwang walked through the cramped corridor of civil servants and military personnel. The man crossed a corridor that ended in a library. He entered and locked the electronic handle from the inside. People were still fearful outside.

  Ojwang went to a bookcase, fingered the spines on the shelf, and pulled out a book. The tome hung, but did not fall. A series of mechanisms were activated. The bookcase moved into the wall.

  A freight elevator appeared. He stepped inside and entered his unique password for the emergency elevator. The route would take him to the heart of the laboratory. The armored door closed, sealing the fate of those in the building.

  ?

  Adisa happily monitored the work of the virus. It was her last contribution to the mediums' cause. For the first time in her life, and in a very intimate way, she felt she had reconciled with her ancestral roots. Adisa of the Clan of Faith, Adisa descended from Iyamesan and Baba Olofim, Adisa son of Azekel, Adisa father of Akachi, they were all one.

  Azekel took off his beret and revealed the protruding entrances of his bald head. He put a hand on his son's shoulder. Adisa didn't turn around, but returned the affection. She grabbed her father's hand. He let out hot, silent tears.

  “Don't cry, my son, not on this day of liberation.”

  “Tears are stubborn, my father.”

  “Yeah, just like someone I know.”

  Azekel went to the bedroom window. He needed some air. It was hard to come to that conclusion. From the megalopolis, motherland Ilu Nla, dozens of nuclear warheads tore through the dawn. The sun, still shy, sprinkled its iridescent light on the missiles. The droplets of water suspended in the air were scratched by the metallic bodies rising into the sky.

  There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, just wait for the death knell. Azekel reflected that he had led a good life as a medium, even more enjoyable as a sage. Perhaps he had been silent as a father, or absent as a grandfather; he was imperfect, and his imperfection completed him.

  Adisa stood up and wiped her eyes on her shirt sleeve. She watched the flock of nuclear charges leaving a vapor trail in the sky. They were like birds from hell, carrying the song of the end.

  Azekel and Adisa held hands. They had both accepted the tragic end. Adisa sniffled and asked the man next to her:

  “Father, will we be able to live in peace in the afterlife?”

  “If Fante Obataiye wishes it, my son, we will be. We'll just have to work hard to make it happen.”

  “At the end of your life, you regret what you didn't do more than the mistakes you made.”

  “A life without mistakes is not worth living for anyone.”

  A voice rang out from the telecom. It was Akachi. His voice message asked his father and grandfather to send him a message, he was worried about the two of them alone in the camp. The young man knew that in that situation, the pair were easy targets.

  Adisa bit her lip and squeezed her father's hand tighter. The missiles were getting closer and closer. It would be a matter of less than a minute before they were hit.

  “What is it?”

  “It's Akachi…”

  “It would be nice if you could say one last word of comfort to him.”

  “I don't know what to say…”

  The call was put on hold. A new call was made, the boy on the other end of the line was impatient.

  ?

  Akachi stopped, slowing down the invaders' march. The group had already passed a few lines of battle androids, drones and machine-gun turrets. Everyone was worried about Adisa and her father, but they had to move forward. The young medium was insistent, he said he couldn't go on acting as if everything was fine.

  “Dad, please pick up.”

  On the other end, the call went unanswered. This only increased Akachi's anxiety. The boy had crossed the line into impatience. After a few seconds of silence, his call was answered.

  “Dad? Where's Grandpa?”

  “Listen, Akachi, we don't have much time.”

  “Wait a minute! What business…”

  “Your grandfather and I… your mother Furaha would be proud of you…”

  What followed after that was a bang and a high-pitched squeal like a CRT TV tuning the channels. Akachi no longer called out for his father or grandfather, he knew what fate had been set for them. He punched the corridor wall so hard that a huge doorway opened up.

  Spin Bomb walked up to him. Slowly, she tried to touch his shoulders, but gave up. The young man's whole body was shaking.

  “Akachi, is everything all right in there?”

  “Yeah…”

  Akachi turned around. His countenance startled everyone. His face was a mask of a youthful smile, but tears and snot ran down his cheeks, revealing a boy drowning in his own pain.

  I'm dying of fever and headache, I wish I'd written a chapter longer than 1,500 words.