The Roads of Wanjala, 3023

Yubi awoke as a blinding beam of sunshine burst into his room through a wide crack splitting the wall. As the light crept up along the opening, Yubi examined himself in a broken mirror. An unusually cheerful smile reflected back at him. Gesturing with his hand, he cycled through several outfits before selecting a blue blazer that complimented his short, but muscular physique. By the time he finished, the sun had risen to a point where it no longer aligned with the crack. In its absence, the brick wall appeared solid, without blemish.

Upon stepping outside, Yubi noticed dark clouds forming overhead, contradicting the distant eastern sun. But the rainy season couldn’t keep him down. After holding a job for nearly two years, Yubi finally owned something he had always dreamed of—real shoes. Now, when he walked the city streets, he could almost believe the Optographic imagery of sidewalks and roads covering the barren dust—could actually imagine their texture underfoot.

As Yubi made his way down the street, between rows of tall buildings that cast no shadows, he envisioned himself living in some distant land from a bygone age, long before the formation of Wanjala. The people hustling along were diverse in every way, except that everyone dressed in pristine clothes—nothing old, tarnished, or tattered. Invigorated by the bustling energy, Yubi gambled on a new restaurant. He ordered a pastry made to perfection—flaky, golden brown layers with a buttery glaze—and took his first bite with high hopes. It tasted bitterly familiar, like stale, moldy bread. Yubi only smiled and admired at how delicious it looked.

Outside, Yubi caught sight of a young girl, eight or nine, standing alone in an alleyway between two upscale shopfronts, wearing nothing but frayed, filthy rags. She stared at passerbyers and begged for food with her round, pleading eyes.

Yubi shuddered and averted his gaze; but stopped in his tracks. Countless others reacted similarly. To help her was to acknowledge her, and to acknowledge her was to acknowledge a haunting reality—and to acknowledge her was taboo.

Food is expensive, but Optographics are cheap—if someone would just give her a credit… Yubi looked down at his streamlined sneakers, still glacier white, without blemish—only half paid-for.

Then, suddenly, someone hurriedly grabbed the girl’s arm and dragged her along to a kiosk. The next moment, a pristine, yellow dress flashed over her rags.

Yubi sighed, relieved, and urged himself on.

A few blocks later, Yubi passed in front of a ruined, crumbling church—a permanent taboo on this prestigious street. A few credits would make it look new… He repeated the same bitter sentiment every day. He intended to shun the place as he walked by, but blocking his path stood the city’s old crone, as haggard as the beggar girl, as shabby as the building beside her. She stared at him with sad, but kindly eyes, as if pitying some wounded creature. Rumors claimed she could peer into the depths of your soul.

Her expression angered Yubi and stung his pride.

As if I’m someone who needs her pity?

In retaliation, he narrowed his eyes with contempt and met her gaze. Once past, a smirk of satisfaction curled his lips.

Serves her right—the whole city feels that way about her.

Several blocks later, Yubi pushed the girl, building, and old woman to the back of his mind. His eyes widened; his skin tingled with anticipation; he was approaching the Main Square. As an array of lights and colors burst into sight—a street-wide display of the most advanced Optographics to date—the base of Yubi’s skull started buzzing with infinitesimal vibrations. He instinctively reached back and scratched around the metal node—no bigger than a pinhead—protruding from his skin. An overload of Optographic images sometimes made it itch.

Impossible skyscrapers, floating advertisements, the latest digital styles projected in every storefront; it all dazzled the eye. Kiosks marked every corner. People could buy any image for next to nothing, then designate it to a real-world object.

While ogling his surroundings, raindrops began to fall through the Optograhpic awnings and landed in Yubi’s eyes. But Yubi disregarded the oncoming downpour and instead marveled over a new image of miniature fireworks.

Then, suddenly, Yubi’s heart skipped. His foot sank below the sidewalk—there was a splash. For a split second, his ankle appeared buried in solid concrete. He quickly withdrew his ankle and gasped in horror. His shoe emerged, soiled by muck and mud. Yubi’s chest tightened with panic. He knew this street; had walked it thousands of times; had memorized every pothole beneath the Optographic pavement—but he’d been distracted. Yubi tried to be calm—tried not to draw attention to himself or his tarnished shoe. Even if they notice, they won’t bother a man like me.

Yubi walked faster now. His eyes frantically searched for a private place to wipe his sneaker clean.

Moments later, Yubi happened upon a narrow alley and took to its shadow. He hid behind a trashcan, tore a piece of real cloth from under his blazer, and began to scrub the stains.

Although intensely focused, Yubi soon sensed something amiss—a strange quiet and an approaching presence. He raised his head. His heart pounded uncontrollably.

Yubi tried to reassure himself. It doesn’t mean anything—people always use the alleys as shortcuts.

But the figures approached from both exits and closed in on him. Yubi thought he recognized one—but then they gestured in the air and their faces vanished. In place of human heads were predatory eyes, glistening fangs, menacing snouts, and reddish manes that flowed in the windless rain.

Yubi’s stomach lurched. Goosebumps rose on his arms and neck as hairs stood on end. One word flashed across his mind—Lions.

They were a notorious gang, infamous for hiding behind Optographics before striking their prey.

Yubi stood tall and tried to intimidate them.

They drew closer, undeterred, and one of them spoke:—

“Hand over the shoes, or we’ll hurt you.”

“Back off! You don’t want to fight me. And anyway, they’re fake.”

“Optograhpics don’t get dirty,” snapped the leader, pointing at the muddied shoe.

Yubi stood paralyzed. A painful memory resurfaced. But he suppressed it, refusing to live it again. Frantically, he searched for an opening, or something to climb—any means of escape. Without delay, he darted toward a narrow gap between one of the Lions and the alley wall.

A hand grabbed his wrist and latched on like plunging fangs. Yubi turned and threw his fist. He felt his knuckles connect with human lips beneath the lion facade. But the fist only squeezed tighter and and jerked him to the ground. A shower of blows descended upon him. Yubi curled up in a dazed agony, waiting for it to end. They stopped, held him down, and slid off his shoes. A moment later, Yubi opened a swollen eye and saw them fleeing down the lane. They reverted to their human heads before rejoining the crowded streets.

Yubi laid helpless in the filth. His face and ribs stung from the beating. Worst of all were his naked toes, curled up and exposed in the open air. Yubi gave way to bitter sobs.

When he regained enough strength, Yubi gestured with his hand and conjured an Optographic locket into his palm. It was heart-shaped and pure silver—but was merely a hollow replica of the first prized possession ever stolen from him. He grimaced at the sight of it. Not only because of its painful history, but because history had repeated itself, even after having gone to such extravagant measures to prevent it. But Yubi bore the pain so as to look inside, where he found the picture of his mother. He smiled as her voice ran through his head:

“There is nothing to do but pick yourself up and get on your way.”

When Yubi rejoined the busy traffic, no one seemed to notice his puffy eyes or the blood trickling down his lip; but they immediately scrutinized his bare feet. Reflected in their eyes was the contempt he had shown not so long ago. Yubi stared forward with dead eyes and tried to ignore them. Mud squished between his toes. At the first kiosk he came to, Yubi stopped, purchased a pair of Optographic shoes, and hid his naked feet. Afterward, people stopped their leering—or noticing him altogether.

Yubi trudged through his work shift. Even amidst the people he knew best, everyone seemed oblivious to what was wrong.

On his way back home, Yubi kept his head down, eyes fixed on the Optographic sidewalk. He wouldn’t have realized how far he’d walked if a voice had not called out to him:

“Dear child! What has happened to you?”

Yubi looked up. It was the old crone, standing in front of the shabby church.

“What do you mean?” inquired Yubi, nervously.

“Your face—who did this to you? You were fine when I saw you this morning.”

“Do you mean…you see me?” Yubi asked in a faint whisper, terrified.

But the woman only said, ‘Come inside—let’s get you cleaned up.’

Yubi sat on a wooden stool in a washroom. The woman dampened a rag and started dabbing the dried blood. Yubi was astonished. She knows exactly where the wounds are.

“I’m sorry for—”

“Shh. You’ve been through enough today. Why do you keep staring at your hand?”

“It’s a picture of my mother—see?”

“I don’t see it, child. I don’t see any of it.”

Yubi sat stunned, unable to comprehend.

“‘Be anyone you want to be! Own anything your heart desires!’ Those were the slogans they used before implants became mandatory. But what was the use in buying Optographic images if everyone else didn’t see what you saw? Even the government used them in place of real roads. Eventually, the only ones not required to have implants were the Enforcers. But they were done away with long ago. Most of them are dead now.”

“I wish I could see as you do.”

“Do you really mean that, child?”

Yubi weighed one pain against the other.

“Reality is hard, whether you disguise it or not. I’d rather face the world as it is than buy another lie.”

The woman hurried away, then hurried back with an object in-hand.

“These are forbidden, but can grant your wish. However, the effect is permanent. You won’t see Optographics anymore—nor will anyone else see yours.”

Yubi’s heart pounded; but she feared if she didn’t do it then, she never would.

“Do it.”

There was a slight shock.

In place of Yubi’s pristine clothes, her tattered rags were unveiled. Her locket disappeared, and her bare feet dangled below her.

Yubi looked in the mirror. She barely recognized the fourteen-year-old girl in the reflection.

“I thought if I looked like a man, no one would bother me anymore. But Yubi the grown man suffered just as much as Yubi the girl.”

Yubi paused.

“Let me keep it.”

“The Inhibitor? And do what with it?”

With this device, Yubi could expose the world to its lies; could make everyone’s pain visible; she could even become a hunter of lions.

The woman anticipated her thoughts. “You cannot force people to see the world as you do. What would you have done if I inhibited your implant this morning, before you chose to be free of it?”

“I would have hated you even more than I already did. I would have had it replaced.”

“I learned long ago: giving up that life must be a choice, or no good can come of it.”

“Then how—how do I make people see?”

“You must show them. That is the only way. Show them that this new life of yours, this harder path, is the better way. As time goes on, others will see that difference. Then, they will long to see the world as you do.”