Nigerian American creator Nnedi Okorafor is a reputation fantasy followers are properly accustomed to—she’s received Hugo, Nebula, World Fantasy, Locus, and Lodestar Awards—and a good larger viewers awaits, since her Who Fears Dying is being developed into an HBO sequence. In November, she’ll launch Like Thunder, the sequel to Shadow Speaker in her Desert Magician’s Duology. io9 has a sneak preview to share in the present day!
Right here’s what Like Thunder is about:
This brand-new sequel to Nnedi Okorafor’s Shadow Speaker accommodates the highly effective prose and compelling tales which have made Nnedi Okorafor a star of the literary science fiction and fantasy house and put her on the forefront of Africanfuturist fiction
Niger, West Africa, 2077
Welcome again. This second quantity is a wide ranging story that sweeps throughout the sands of the Sahara, flies as much as the peaks of the Aïr Mountains, cartwheels right into a wild megacity—you get the thought.
I’m the Desert Magician; I convey water the place there’s none.
This ebook begins with Dikéogu Obidimkpa slowly dropping his thoughts. Sure, that boy who can convey rain simply by enthusiastic about it’s having some…points. Years in the past, Dikéogu went on an epic journey to avoid wasting Earth with the shadow speaker lady, Ejii Ubaid, who turned his finest pal. When it was throughout, they went their separate methods, however now he’s realized their quest by no means actually ended in any respect.
So Dikéogu, extra highly effective than ever, reunites with Ejii. He data this story as an audiofile, hoping it can assist him preserve his sanity or at the least give him one thing to depart behind. Good child, nevertheless it received’t work—or will it?
I can let you know this: it received’t be like earlier than. Our rainmaker and shadow speaker have modified. And after this, nothing will ever be the identical once more.
As they are saying, ‘Onye amaro ebe nmili si bido mabaya ama ama onye nyelu ya akwa oji welu ficha aru.’
Or, ‘If you don’t bear in mind the place the rain began to beat you, you’ll not bear in mind who gave you the towel with which to dry your physique.’
Right here’s the quilt, making its debut right here on io9; the quilt illustration is by Greg Ruth, and the quilt design is by Jim Tierney. An excerpt from Like Thunder follows.
Translating . . .
Dikéogu Audio File Collection
begun April 8, 2074
Present Location: Unknown Area, Niger
Climate: 36o C (98o F), N.I.U.F. (Not Together with Unpredictable Elements)
This audio file has been mechanically translated from the Igbo language.
Rainmaker
My identify is Dikéogu Obidimkpa. I’m a rainmaker. Born in Nigeria however made elsewhere. The tattoo on my face is pink and white, the colours of Shango, god of thunder and lightning. My tattoo turned these colours by itself. It was once blue. Shango’s colours swimsuit me higher.
I dictate this account of all that occurred after every thing has occurred. But it surely’s all nonetheless occurring. You’ll perceive as you pay attention. For me, tales by no means finish. I recorded these particular recordsdata that I titled “Rainmaker” once I was or am having an particularly camelshit sort of day. When it’s onerous to assume, once I really feel like I’ll simply blow aside or blow away. Making these recordsdata assist. Form of. In a blood-letting type of means. So if I sound completely different in “rainmaker” recordsdata, you’ll perceive why.
A storm got here in the present day. It blew in out of nowhere, however I knew it was coming. I at all times know when a storm is coming. It snapped palm bushes like matchsticks. Threw a scooter like a sack of stockfish. It soaked the sand and grass like Noah’s flood. It washed rooftops. It was noisy and superb.
However I spent that half hour on the dust flooring of this small home with all of the lizards, spiders, and centipedes. Nobody may converse to me. Nobody may contact me. Solely Gambo would have understood.
Once I closed my eyes, I noticed big rolling grey clouds. I may odor the land’s perfume stand up simply earlier than the rain got here. I may odor the clouds as lightning ionized water vapor. I may really feel the air strain drop after which rise.
I used to be splashed with tens of millions of raindrops. I may really feel what may have been. The destruction. The facility. I may hear the rain and thunder, outdoors. First the patter of sand on grass and leaves after which the splash of mud. The howl of wind.
And once I opened my eyes, I wished to flee. However I couldn’t. Not anymore. I’m in worry’s chasm. Okay, possibly Ejii would perceive, too.
My palms tremble simply enthusiastic about it.
I can’t change what I’m.
I’m a rainmaker, however principally it rained on me.
Don’t want to be me. Or to have the ability to do what I do. What I can do may be carried out to me when the sky merely wills it.
CHAPTER 1
Higher Instructed Than Written
I’ve seen a lot.
I would like you to think about it.
So, as I stated, I’m recording my phrases as an audio file on this rattling close to indestructible e‐legba, a bit of moveable tech so sturdy it outlasted the apocalypse. Positive, it seems fairly crushed up. That’s as a result of it’s taken fairly a beating. However no different private system may do all that this one does, belief me. Recording one thing doesn’t even increase its processor utilization stage, not even by a fraction. And it’s each photo voltaic and lunar. This recording will final.
Some issues are higher informed than written. Possibly the previous Africans had it proper in initially making their traditions oral. Plus I’m extra of a talker than a author. I don’t have the endurance to spend hours tapping on keys. Plus out right here in the midst of the desert, I type of just like the sound of my voice.
And I’m an sincere man, not some mumu man. Of all individuals, I don’t consider in gossip. Gossip is what obtained me on this mess within the first place. You possibly can belief me. It’s okay to let your guard down. I’ll let you know no lies. No exaggerations. Concern no ego. No want for suspension of disbelief. This all occurred and God assist me now.
My pal Ejii favored to chortle about how I barely trusted anybody. She favored to exist within the naïve‐good‐particular person‐land the place all people, deep down, are good. I’m wondering what she thinks now, after so many have confirmed themselves to be cowards, liars, cheats, murderers, and lackadaisical pacifists who’re pleased to take a seat and watch harmless individuals die horrible deaths. Yeah, I stated it. Somebody has to. I do know what I’ve seen. I do know what I’ve needed to do. And yeah, this factor is recording.
The Nice Change was this bizarre mixture of a nuclear apocalypse and the explosion of highly effective juju known as “Peace Bombs.” This tousled lots of Earth’s legal guidelines of physics and introduced down the wall between worlds. Then there was a pact of peace. It was written by noble genius baboons with black palms and smooth brown fur that smelled like mint and grass. They wrote the pact in a magical language known as nsibidi. This pact compelled a truce between the evil inflated Chief Ette of Ginen’s Ooni Kingdom and the insanely heroic Jaa the Crimson One of many Sahara Desert. It stopped a warfare of the worlds, particularly between Earth and the jungle planet Ginen. I’m rattling proud to say that I used to be there and part of why the pact was profitable. So was Ejii, after all. She was a giant deal that day.
That pact was some critical, deep, previous mysticism. Even in any case I’ve seen, I nonetheless discover it wonderful. That it occurred in any respect is unbelievable. That it lasted for therefore lengthy was nothing wanting a miracle. For just a few months it saved the monster of warfare nonetheless, and for 3 years it held it at bay. However the pact finally disintegrated, because it needed to. However so did numerous different issues.
How do I clarify all that occurred? I’ll make it easy: finally, all hell broke free . . .
CHAPTER 2
Chocolate Manufacturing unit
Proper after the historic pact was made, I had vital enterprise to deal with. One drawback solved (quickly, at the least), so on to the subsequent one. I used to be centered, as was my owl Kola. And so was my mentor Gambo.
All of us had causes for occurring this mission. For Gambo and me, it was as a result of we’d each really skilled slavery firsthand. Buji, Gambo’s co‐husband, was only a man who revered justice. When Buji noticed injustice, he had to do one thing about it. The Nigérien Bureau of Investigation, a.ok.a. the N.B.I., got here with us as a result of they had been attempting to cowl their asses and never look like asses. As if they might forestall that. All these years they usually knew nothing about what was occurring within the northern a part of what was once Niger? Camelshit. They knew. And now they knew that in the event that they didn’t do one thing they’d undergo onerous‐core sanctions and boycotts.
Gambo, Buji, Kola, and I had simply left Ejii and Jaa in Kwàmfà. I used to be so excited to be going north with these individuals. In any case that had occurred. Towards this particular place. A spot I hated.
Assamakka.
This place was once a small harmless desert metropolis with mazes of mud‐brick houses, camels, goats, desert birds, scurrying lizards, girls pounding millet, males kneeling in prayer. However after the Nice Change, when nuclear and Peace bombs fell and big swaths of land right here shifted from lifeless sand to vigorous sand and soil, opportunists made it the central headquarters of the cocoa trade. A lot of the world’s cocoa used to make chocolate got here from Assamakka and the farming cities round it. And all these locations used low-cost labor. Actually low-cost labor. Low-cost younger labor. Little one slaves.
There may be undoubtedly a motive I hate chocolate. I’ll at all times hate it. I’d relatively die than eat it. Chocolate was combined with blood, sweat, and tears of kids. It was a haunted confection. Manner means again in 2003, Niger handed a legislation making slavery unlawful. And even earlier than that there have been legal guidelines towards youngster labor. These did nothing to cease it, although.
Even with all of the spontaneous forests and new worlds and other people and creatures dying and altering in all places . . . you might nonetheless get chocolate. Anytime, wherever. Frequent brown blocks of easy scrumptious pleasure. Melted or strong. However nobody puzzled the place it got here from. How shocked you all would have been, o.
All I’ve to say concerning the land alongside the way in which is that it was dry, cracked, and stuffed with nasty aggressive pink beetles that attempted to burrow into our tents at evening. And so they stained no matter you crushed them on. That didn’t cease me, although. I had clothes stained with pink dots to show it.
This was simply earlier than we met up with the N.B.I. We didn’t see any spontaneous forests and the climate was acceptable— that means it was harsh and scorching in the course of the day however cool at evening. Gambo and I wouldn’t have meddled with the climate regardless, even when we got here throughout a extreme storm. Even earlier than we’d set out for Assamakka, he’d made positive to show me that one ought to alter the climate sparingly or work with the need of nature.
“It’s irresponsible to do in any other case,” he stated in his common low rumbly voice. “A rainmaker who thinks he owns the sky is a rainmaker quickly painfully killed by rain, snow, lightning, hail, or the entire above.”
About two days later, we stopped at a marketplace for provides— a second seize station for water, some new tents (these vile pink beetles had eaten by way of two of ours), inexperienced tea, dried meat (a bunch of desert foxes had stolen a lot of ours), salt for the camels, a bag of millet to make tuagella (these thick crêpes that you just eat with butter or sauce).
I bear in mind all this as a result of this turned out to be the final time we had been in civilization for months. It was additionally the place I purchased this e‐legba that I’m utilizing to file my voice. Ejii had one which she favored to make use of to examine the climate, play video games, learn books, and take heed to music. I consider she misplaced it on the way in which to Ginen, although.
I used to have an costly one again in my previous life, earlier than my mother and father bought me out. This new one which I obtained on the market wasn’t almost as expensive, however I wasn’t complaining. It did what it wanted to do. In fact, the e‐legba I purchased was nothing just like the souped‐up system it’s now. Not but.
We continued on our means, and what would occur subsequent would form every thing that led me to the place I’m in the present day.
A few day after leaving the market, we met up with a person named Ali Mamami. He was the top of the Nigérien Bureau of Investigation. He was a fairly intense man. Ali favored to put on flowing clothes that had been so voluminous that you just couldn’t inform if he was skinny or fats. He by no means smiled. He didn’t add sugar to his mint tea or use salt together with his meals. He didn’t take heed to music. The person was like petrified wooden. You surprise what somebody like that has seen to make him that means. However I didn’t assume he was so spectacular. He’d missed what was occurring within the north, for Christ’s sake. Nonetheless, I saved out of his means.
With him got here twenty N.B.I. brokers—males and girls specifically educated for this type of factor. Earlier than the Nice Change, they’d have all carried massive weapons. These individuals, how‐ ever, carried machetes, Tuareg‐fashion swords known as takoba, and excessive‐tech bows and arrows, and had been educated in hand‐to‐hand fight and wore climate gel–handled uniforms and armed forces boots (you probably did not need to be close to any of their ft after they took these boots off). Two girls even had a pair of these Ginen weapons known as seed shooters.
My pal Ejii had informed me about these, however I’d by no means seen one till certainly one of these girls confirmed me. They appear like hand‐sized greenish brown disks with a notch on the facet to your fingers. And so they had been very gentle. The girl, her identify was Nusrat, clasped it in her hand as she confronted the desert, the top of her brown veil over her head fluttering within the breeze. The opposite girl, Hira, wore a veil over her head, too. I assume they had been each Muslim. Or possibly they simply favored the apparel; you by no means know.
Nusrat grinned, clearly having fun with demonstrating.
“It feels onerous nevertheless it’s alive, a plant,” she stated. Her voice was type of low. If it weren’t for the big measurement of her chest (you couldn’t miss it, even with the uniform) and her face (okay, she was fairly engaging), I’d have speculated that she might need been a person. She had an depth that jogged my memory of Gambo, and there’s nothing remotely female about Gambo.
Nusrat took my hand and held it to the seed shooter. As quickly as my hand touched it, it modified from greenish brown to darkish brown as if it had been some form of plant chameleon. “It responds to the touch,” she stated, laughing. “It doesn’t such as you. For some motive, seed shooters desire girls. The accuracy is at all times higher when they’re utilized by girls. Be very afraid should you come throughout a person with one, particularly should you’re not his goal.”
I frowned, considering of these large flightless birds Ejii had ridden in Ginen. They supposedly didn’t let boys or males journey on them, both. Possibly issues from Ginen most well-liked feminine people to male ones.
“You stroke the facet and it hums,” Nusrat stated, rubbing the seed shooter. It made this sound that was oddly just like the purr of a cat. You might really feel it, too. Prefer it was extra animal than plant. I’d have thrown the factor away, however I wished to know what it felt like when it shot. “While you squeeze it,” she stated, “your 4 fingers should be touching this easy patch on the entrance.”
She pointed the seed shooter on the floor, aiming just a few yards away, and squeezed my hand. I barely felt or heard a factor. Only a smooth phht as one thing reddish orange blasted into the sand. Then there was a form of oatmeally odor. POW! There was a small explosion within the sand because the seed popped like a big popcorn kernel. Some massive inexperienced beetles emerged from the sand close by and frantically scrambled away. Think about what that seed would have carried out if the seed had been embedded in somebody’s chest, leg, arm, or . . . head.
She strapped the factor towards the naked pores and skin of her facet, pulling her uniform over it. Seed shooters produce extra seeds by feeding on physique warmth. For sure, these two girls had been most likely essentially the most deadly N.B.I. brokers within the Sahara be‐ reason for their ability and people weapons.
I smiled. Deadly was what I wished.
Excerpt from Nnedi Okorafor’s Like Thunder reprinted by permission of DAW.
Like Thunder by Nnedi Okorafor might be launched November 28; you’ll be able to pre-order a replica right here or right here.
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