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  I contacted Max and told her what had happened. She said there must be a dispassionate trial. She would get a judge to watch me question the witnesses and the prisoners via my Xan-link and also view the recording that I’d made of the last few hours.

  We called the slaves into the refectory and showed them the prisoners.

  “What about their whores?”

  This was news to us.

  “They’ll be hiding upstairs.”

  I ran up and unlocked the door guarding the second floor. I was surprised by the opulence that greeted me. There was a large TV, sumptuous furniture and rugs that had been looted from hotels in the town. The windows had all been shattered by the gunfire, and the room was covered in shards of glass. Nine frightened, heavily made-up girls in ‘western-style’ clothes were hiding behind the furniture. Two of them had cuts on their faces but none were seriously injured. They looked terrified. They must have heard the sonic bombs and thought we were going to kill or rape them.

  “Don’t be alarmed; we’re here to help you. You’re quite safe now.”

  They were still very tense, not knowing whether they could trust me.

  “I’ve been sent with my two soldiers to restore order in your society. The world is finally trying to bail Africa out. We know you’ve been through living hell, and can only apologise that it’s taken so long for us to assist you.”

  They seemed to be slightly less anxious now.

  “Come downstairs and we’ll all have some food and drink together.”

  One of the girls stepped forward; she was strikingly beautiful. She looked to be about seventeen; the oldest girl in the room. They were all well covered and looked fit and well. Although I’d spoken in Yoruba, she now talked in perfect English.

  “I’m Martha. We can’t come down. The female slaves hate us, although we’ve done them no harm.”

  “Perhaps you could tell me how you ended up here?”

  “We were the only girls who survived Ebola at our boarding school. These monsters rushed in with guns blazing and mowed down the three teachers who had hidden us in a sports cupboard.” She then hung her head as she continued softly. “They eventually discovered us. We were all raped. They then brought us here to cook and clean for them. We’ve been raped most days for the last two years.”

  “I am truly sorry for you. You’ve all suffered terribly, but I promise you that your ordeal is now over. I’m sure if the other women knew what you’ve been through, they would understand. Would you be willing to come downstairs? We’re about to hold a court session when the prisoners will be tried.”

  “Will you guarantee our safety if we come down?”

  I gave them my word and reluctantly they followed me.

  They crept down the stairs with heads bowed, avoiding the ‘slaves’ hostile stares.

  I took a seat behind a desk at one end of the refectory. “I’ll ask the questions as there are no lawyers. The trial will be viewed by a judge in our homeland.”

  Martha asked, “Sorry if I’m being stupid, but there isn’t a camera, so how is the judge going to view this? Are you pulling a fast one?”

  “I should’ve explained. I’m a Commissioner and my brain is connected to Xanasa, and her brain can be accessed by any other Commissioner. So the judge will be watching.”

  “I’ve never heard such improbable rubbish! I’m certainly not convinced,” she sulked.

  I asked Martha to repeat her testimony in Yoruba. As she told of their capture and rape, I noted surprise then shock and sympathy appear on the faces of the ‘slaves’. I then asked the other women to describe how they’d been captured. Some were lone survivors and were just snatched from their fields. Others broke down in tears as they described how their men and boys were rounded up and hacked to pieces in front of them before they were brought back here.

  Another said, “I was a cook at this very school and was here when they broke in. There were two teachers and twelve boys at the time. They held me with a gun to my head as they ordered the others to go into the barn. I heard many shots. I never saw the teachers and boys again. I’ve been a slave for nearly two years.”

  I asked the men why this had happened.

  The jeep machine-gunner answered. “We’d all been in the army under Colonel Lowassa at the Obuja barracks. The Colonel was well meaning but made a terrible mistake. When Ebola hit the town, he ordered us to collect patients and take them to the nearby hospital. Quite quickly, many soldiers caught the disease. One evening, ten soldiers went to a bar and ended up sleeping with women from the town. At the time, these soldiers didn’t know they were infected. Within two days, six of these ten, followed by most of the battalion, became ill and soon died. Some of the women and their families also became infected. When word got out that the soldiers had caused this outbreak, the surviving men and youths from the town marched on the barracks. By then, there were only nine of us still alive. We were terrified and locked ourselves in the armoury. We smelt smoke and soon flames engulfed the buildings. We grabbed weapons, ammunition and came out with all guns blazing. Two of our comrades died. The protestors fled, carrying their wounded. We were able to douse the flames and saved the armoury, food store and fuel depot. We stayed in the armoury and raided the storehouse. It was horribly cramped and uncomfortable. All the living quarters and the kitchen had burnt down. We had to live off cold tinned food as we were too afraid to leave the building. After a month, the disease had done its worst. That was when we left the barracks to find somewhere more comfortable to live. We found this school. We never planned to kill anyone, but when we arrived, we recognised one of the teachers who’d attacked us at the barracks. We suspected that the other teachers and boys had been among the rioters. We killed them all in revenge for them killing our friends. Sir, we are not bad men. We were driven to this out of revenge.”

  “That is not for me to decide. Our judge will pronounce her verdict at 10 am tomorrow. Please take the prisoners and guard them in the old shower block, Sandy. Perhaps some of the women from the field gang would join these girls preparing food in the kitchens.”

  The slaves approached the girls with kindness, having heard their gruesome story.

  The judgement came as no surprise to me. “Guilty; they will spend the rest of their lives doing hard labour at a prison which is nearing completion in Port Harcourt.”

  I found that two of the women could drive, and I asked Gregor and Sandy to guard the prisoners as they drove to Port Harcourt. In the meantime, I was horrified to be shown the sleeping arrangements of the ‘slave’ women. The ‘warlords’ hadn’t bothered to find mattresses for them, and so they’d had to sleep with rags as covers on the floor of what must once have been the school dormitories. I spent the day ferrying mattresses, clean sheets and chairs that I found in a nearby hotel to the dormitories. Martha had taken charge of the kitchen and had arranged a rota for cooking and cleaning. The ‘slaves’ couldn’t believe their luck as they were given meat to eat two days running! Martha had asked everyone if they preferred to work inside or on the land. The atmosphere of the whole compound had been transformed as the new community took shape.

  As soon as Gregor and Sandy returned, we cleared the airport. With our tasks completed, we set off for Cairo followed by our petrol tanker.

  The Egyptian conference and return to Costa Rica

  All Commissioners who had been assigned to Africa were recalled to Egypt for a conference. We were told to discuss possible solutions to the problems we’d encountered. This continued for three days.

  You have already read about the new towns and lifestyle that was offered and rejected by Sarah and her friends on the shore of Lake Malawi. The clones had discovered that most survivors had chosen to take up this offer and were happy to be moved and to learn to speak English.

  Besides the Christian enclave in Malawi and Zambia, Sunni Muslims were offered a community in Algeria
; Copts and orthodox Christians were offered one in northern Ethiopia.

  Tribal people who’d always lived in harmony with their environment were allowed to continue their ancient way of life, providing they agreed to vaccination and chipping.

  Any survivors in the Sahel would be evacuated as it was now too dry to support modern life and tourism. Goats and other domesticated animals would be rounded up and moved. Drought-resistant bushes and trees would be planted. It was hoped that a balanced ecosystem might develop which would slowly spread into the sands to the north.

  I had two months’ leave and asked to fly home before I had to take up my position as the administrator of Malawi. I was determined to see Petra, however angry her mother became. I liked Gregor and Sandy but was fed up of reconstituted dried food and looked forward to Jas’s cooking. As the plane left behind the sandy vastness of Egypt, I looked forward to the vibrant greens of the Costa Rican jungles. I spent the journey home trying to work out how I might see Petra.

  Jas greeted me looking rather miffed. “I thought you were never coming back. You’ve been away for months, and the first time I knew you were alive was your brief message yesterday.” She paused and smiled wanly. “Sorry, I’m pleased to have you back, but I’ve missed you.” Another pause and this time her old smiling self. “I’ve just started to prepare some curried fish with fresh mangoes and pineapple.”

  I felt bad that I hadn’t communicated. Perhaps she really did miss me; I had surely missed her! I would mend my ways in future.

  The following day, I sent a note to Petra via my friendly flower girl. “My darling Petra, I’ve got eight weeks off. I’ve missed you terribly. Is there any chance you could get some leave? I have a plan.”

  She replied. “Great to hear from you. I’ve missed you too. I can take a week off in three weeks’ time. Love you. P.”

  I sent a message back suggesting that she should book a week’s diving off the coast of Tulum, Mexico, with Miguel’s dive school. Miguel would tell her my plan when she arrived.

  I was pleased to discover that Charco was also home but would only be free for two weeks. We hired a dive boat in Belize and took our droids with us. We spent the next ten days cruising up the barrier reef; eating, drinking, laughing and diving. Charco knew all about my love for Petra and was happy to assist. I dropped him and Cooli off at Chetumal in Mexico and gave him a handwritten message for Miguel in Tulum. Miguel was to take Petra to the cave just east of the Grand Cenote in the Sac Actun cave system at 10 am on 8/12/60.

  I had a week to cruise up the coast and moored about ten kilometres south of the cave. I knew that my chip wouldn’t be detected once I was six metres under water. I took a jet-powered underwater scooter that could travel at 12 kph and ample oxygen for my return journey. I knew these caves well and hoped Miguel would find the one I had in mind. I waited nervously and then bang on time they appeared. Petra must have told him about our situation as he left us saying he would be back in an hour.

  Gloom and neoprene didn’t make for romance. There was so much to say.

  “I’ve missed you terribly, Zig. I wish we could communicate when you go away for so long. It’s horrible not knowing what danger you might be in. Life here has been stressful. I’m worried about Mom as the apocalypse has forced her to lead the world, and it’s not fair for one person to have such responsibility. I’ve been too exhausted to be of much comfort as I’ve been incredibly busy working on a revolutionary way of treating mental illness.”

  I told her about Africa. At the end, I couldn’t help myself and asked, “Would you like to leave everything and live in one of the quiet secluded religious groups? I really enjoyed my time with the Amish. Have you heard about the autonomous areas in Africa?”

  “I would love nothing better. I want to marry you and have children, but my Mom depends on me, and my present research could transform the world. I’m sorry, please be patient. I’m certain it’ll all come right in the end.”

  “Petra, I love you dearly, but we’ve been having this clandestine relationship for twelve years now. I can’t take it any longer. Meeting in a cave was quite exciting the first time. You may think me odd, but I’d prefer an evening eating and drinking on a balcony overlooking the Pacific and then spending the night together.”

  “Do you think I’m a nun? Of course I want that too. I didn’t ask to be born the only living relative of the world leader. I’m sure something will work out one way or another.”

  I feared I was losing her as she had become unusually petulant. Without thinking, I spoke my mind.

  “I’m sorry, Petra, you may be right, but I fear the situation isn’t going to change. Max has the same anti-ageing injections that we do. She could live as the leader of the world for hundreds of years!”

  I was angry and unbelievably disappointed that all the effort I’d put into this meeting was coming to nothing. It was too dark to see her eyes, but I couldn’t avoid hearing the soft intakes of breath between muffled sobs. Just then Miguel arrived. Miguel quickly assessed the situation, put his arm around her and led her back towards the sea.

  I was disconsolate. How had this ended in such disaster? I screamed into the echoing void. Annoyed with my ineptitude, I prepared to dive.

  I couldn’t be bothered to eat, drank too much rum and woke with an unbelievable headache. I lay in bed all day, having asked the captain to get me back to Belize City hyperloop as quickly as possible. I was soon home; even Jas’s cooking didn’t interest me.

  Time dragged as I kept rerunning our disastrous meeting. Was I being so unreasonable? If she loved me, surely she’d have agreed to my request. I wished I could’ve removed her from the unhealthy influence of her mother. I hated Max in a way that I’d never hated anyone else before.

  -----

  A few days later, Charco visited. “Hi, mate, sorry to hear you are feeling down.”

  He paused. I knew he wanted me to open up, but I didn’t feel like it. I was annoyed that he knew that I was upset. Was I so obviously miserable?

  “How did you know?”

  “Jas sent me a message.”

  That made me even angrier. How dare she send messages without getting my permission? I’d have to be firm and put a stop to this once Charco left.

  It seemed he was in no hurry, helped himself to a drink and poured me one.

  He just sat saying nothing. I knew that trick; I was sure he was hoping I would break the silence and start telling him what was on my mind.

  He capitulated. “I’ve just installed a new emotion and empathy upgrade into Cooli. She’s much more like a human now. You should try it.” Afterwards, he went on and on about his new girlfriend who was a doctor Commissioner, and then about his project at work. Finally, he left.

  I drank myself to sleep, wishing that I’d saved some xanacea.

  I woke feeling even worse, especially as I had to return to Africa in two days’ time. I remembered about Cooli’s upgrade and thought it couldn’t do any harm. I ordered one for Jas.

  As soon it was installed, Jas looked glum. “I knew you were sad after your failed meeting with Petra, but I couldn’t feel anything myself. Now I know how ghastly this has been for you. I’m so sorry that you’re going through such misery. I would be devastated if you were to give me to someone else, or if you were to die on one of your scary missions.” With that, she came and encircled me with her arms, and for the first time since I had broken up with Petra, I found I was crying my heart out. That night, she kissed me gently on the cheek and said she cared for me more than anything or anyone and hoped I would soon be my old self once more.

  As I left, I noted how sorry I was to say goodbye to Jas. I’d never felt like that about her before, and made a mental note to contact her. Of course, she had no Xan-link, so I would have to remember how to use mobiles. Jas gave me a spare old mobile to take with me. Then it struck me: would there be a network in Malawi? T
here was so much to accomplish before we could move people into their new towns.

  Return to Africa

  I had been given responsibility for Lake Malawi, the Christian reserve to the west and the Shire game reserve in the south of the country. The land to the north and east of the lake would initially be uninhabited, although nominally it was also within my remit. The game reserve is on the eastern bank of the Shire River. I’d chosen to build a town on the western bank as it drains from Lake Malawi. I’d given instructions for the engineers to build me a suitable residence overlooking the lake on the edge of the settlement. The only other governed township in my area was being built just north of a potential tourist resort that I planned for Nkhata Bay.

  I took a car from Lilongwe Airport and drove to Nkhata Town. Fortunately, there were many bulldozers in working order and fuel was now available throughout the continent. The new town was half built and would be ready in a couple of months.

  I’d asked Xanasa to scan the qualifications and suitability of all the citizens who would be under my jurisdiction to find someone capable of administering Nkhata Town. She came up with Black Mungani. I thought ‘Black’ was a most peculiar name for an African person. He had an English grandmother and had studied politics at Bristol University. We’d agreed to meet at the building site of the new hospital. I arrived a little late and saw two men standing in the shade of the half-finished building. One was huge and very black, and the other was smaller and clearly of mixed race. The larger man stepped forward with a welcoming smile and to my surprise introduced himself as Black. I guess that explained his name as his skin colour must have been a surprise to his half-caste mother. We immediately hit it off and I quickly realised that he’d be far more intelligent than me if I didn’t have a Xan-link.

  After briefing me, he frowned. “Do you realise that bringing different tribes together is sure to lead to fights, if not outright warfare? Many of these tribes have been enemies for centuries.”