Apex Magazine, Issue 134 by Apex Magazine

Author:Apex Magazine [Magazine, Apex]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: apex magazine, Magazine
Publisher: Apex Publications
Published: 2022-10-26T03:24:15+00:00

1 Content Warning: Death and dying

CLASSIC FICTION

The Satellite Charmer

15,000 WORDS

MAME BOUGOUMA DIENE

Content warnings1

“Can you see it?!”

Abdou was an idiot. Of course he could see it. Everybody within five hundred kilometers could see it. A beam of blood red violence, crashing from the sky, grinding into the soil with the force of a finger crushing an ant. Ibrahima had been told that ants were the strongest creatures in the world, capable of carrying a hundred times their weight, yet his pinky could kill them easily.

Standing on the cliffs overlooking the old natural preserve of Niokolo Koba, looking down at the lush expanse of grasslands spurred by the summer rains, Ibrahima could see the dust left behind by the stampeding animals eager for shelter before the deep dark grey clouds unleashed a torrent. He could taste the dampness on the air, his eyes watering with the wind. He could hear the rumble in the clouds, but above all he could feel the beam.

The static on the winds changed when it broke through the clouds, carrying it forward with the hungry anticipation of a carrion bird. Every muscle in his body contracted, and somewhere, deep in his mind, something opened up. Every time. Ibrahima had wanted to ask others if they felt the same, but for some reason he had never voiced it. Perhaps he didn’t want to sound like Abdou, pointing at the obvious, and everybody felt it too. Perhaps not, perhaps he feared the questions he would be asked if no one else did.

The beam was death, he knew that, but to him, in a way he couldn’t quite understand, the beam was life. His senses heightened when it dropped, turning the clouds a deep red, every action anticipated by just a fraction. The future not so much ahead of him, but there, ready for him to reach out and touch if only he could break out of his body. Sometimes it almost felt like he could, that if he took a step forward and over the cliff to certain death he wouldn’t fall. His body would stay behind but he would float ahead, a spirit on the charged air, one with his ancestors. One with the world. An infinity of possibilities. But he didn’t dare. Instead he said:

“Yeah.”

“Beautiful isn’t it?”

It was hard not to punch Abdou most of the time. The boy had no sense. He could stand in front of a charging lion and admire the beast’s run, commenting on the richness of its mane. Walk into a swarm of mosquitoes without a thought for malaria, drawn to the buzzing excitedly. He wasn’t exactly stupid, but he was an idiot.

“Sure,” Ibrahima responded. “Until you’re standing right under it.”

Abdou shrugged. “That’s not gonna happen,” he said “I asked my dad about it. The Caliph only allows ChinaCorp to mine the Faso Subdivision, and they get paid for it. A lot.”

Ibrahima looked at him, and then away, back at the beam. Perhaps the Caliphate did get paid in return, perhaps the Caliph was sitting on velvet cushions drinking water teased from honey and dew.

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