Broken Places Outer Spaces: Finding Creativity in the Unexpected by Okorafor Nnedi

Author:Okorafor, Nnedi [Okorafor, Nnedi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Writing, Biography, Contemporary
ISBN: 9781501195488
Goodreads: 43320243
Publisher: Simon Schuster/ TED
Published: 2019-06-18T07:00:00+00:00

8 Rusting Robot

I remember how I used to be.

On the tennis court, there were days when I could see through time. It happened most often when things got really heated. Something inside me would align. The tennis term for this heightened state of being is “treeing.” It is when you are playing out of your mind, when you can do no wrong, when you can make the universe yield to your every whim. I know it sounds intense, because it is. When I treed, sometimes I could predict the future. Not that far, about one second. I’d know exactly where my opponent was going to hit the ball because I’d see it happen right before it did. It was just enough time to make use of the knowledge.

Even before I began to write science fiction, though I didn’t know it, I was sci-fi.

In those moments, my athleticism really was a superpower. Now, when I write about characters with abilities, the gift of flight, time travel, shape-shifting, I draw from my own experiences as an incredible athlete. And for these characters’ conflicts and limitations within the narrative, I draw from my experiences with and recovering from paralysis.

• • •

The next step was relearning how to walk, and this was best done in the water first. Getting each of my legs through their respective holes in the bathing suit was difficult. Nonetheless, I was tired of being naked in front of nurses, so I struggled through. I sat on my hospital bed and bent my legs to my chest as far as they would go, until my knees were touching my face. Then, carefully, I slipped the left foot in. It took several attempts. My legs kept slipping forward and I kept almost falling to the side. Once I got the bathing suit on, I tried to ignore how frail my body looked.

I wheeled myself to the edge of the small pool where my physical therapist Siedah and her student assistant, Banali, were waiting, also in bathing suits. This was my third time at the pool. The first two times they sat me on the edge and had me paddle my legs. I had kicked and kicked, slowly, but enough to break a sweat. I felt well exercised afterward. The endorphins were pumping. However, just getting me to the rim of the pool was terrifying. If I accidentally pitched forward into the water, I could barely kick my legs. I’d drown easily.

Now, sitting at the edge of the pool between two bars, I stared at the water for several minutes, frozen. I was thinking of collapsing, hitting my head, drowning, reinjuring my healing but still crooked back, the people passing by the huge window in front of me witnessing it all. I was thinking there was no other way. I would never walk again if I didn’t take the risks. I thought of percentages and chance.

Finally, I stopped. I submitted, thinking, “What will be will be. Forward. No looking back.” I slid in.

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