TITLE: Remote Control
AUTHOR: Nnedi Okorafor
160 pages, TorDotCom, ISBN 9781250772800 (hardcover, also available in e-book and audiobook)
DESCRIPTION: (from the back cover): “She’s the adopted daughter of the Angel of Death. Beware of her. Mind her. Death guards her like one of its own.” The day Fatima forgot her name, Death paid a visit. From here on in she would be known as Sankofa―a name that meant nothing to anyone but her, the only tie to her family and her past.
Her touch is death, and with a glance a town can fall. And she walks―alone, except for her fox companion―searching for the object that came from the sky and gave itself to her when the meteors fell and when she was yet unchanged; searching for answers.
But is there a greater purpose for Sankofa, now that Death is her constant companion?
MY RATING: 5 stars out of 5
MY THOUGHTS: I remember reading Nnedi Okorafor’s short story “Sankofa” in the anthology Decision Points (edited by Bryan Thomas Schmidt) several years ago. I immediately wanted to know more about the title character, intrigued by her mysterious background, her ability to kill seemingly with a thought and how she chose to use/not use that power. I particularly loved the way Okorafor kept the reader wondering through most of the story as to how the legend of Sankofa (“adopted daughter of Death”) matched her truth.
I am happy to say that Okorafor’s new novella Remote Control expands the original short story in ways that answer most of my questions without sacrificing that intricate dance between the main character’s legend and her reality, all while introducing new questions about Sankofa’s origin, her abilities, and the near-future world she lives in.
The future Ghana of this novella is distant enough from our own that technology has made some advances (“jelli-tellies” that can be stretched to fit the available space on a wall, and which sound a bit more environmentally friendly than even our current flat-screens; robotic “cops” that control traffic at dangerous intersections) but not so far distant as to render the world unrecognizable. The advance tech is not the focus of the novel but is more than just window-dressing. It’s different enough to lend the book an undercurrent of “the more things change, the more they stay the same.” People still queue up outside electronics stores when they hear the latest items are due to arrive (although in this future, the line-up is due as much to the odds that new electronics shipments will be intercepted by roving pirates as it is to excitement about a new product), and people still place status on belongings (cars, paintings).
And people still “other” what they don’t understand. Sankofa, the girl who can kill living beings with a thought and technology with a touch, is subject to side-eye glances, gestures against the evil eye, and occasionally more violent reactions. In the first chapter, she has a gun fired at her; later, she is punched and kicked and run out of town by an angry mob. People (with a few exceptions) grudgingly accept the legend that has grown up around her – but they’d still rather not encounter her at all. Interestingly, the characters who attack her physically are almost all riled up because of the effect she has on the technology they rely on. In this near future, superstition and othering are still palpable forces as much as mob mentality and the “me first” mindset. Before this starts to sound too dismal, I should mention that not everyone Sankofa encounters is afraid of her or angry at her. There are kindly shopkeepers, farmers, and an Imam’s wife who all either accept Sankofa without question or who try to understand her role and want to help her out of her predicament.
Sankofa herself is unsure of why she has the abilities she has and what she’s meant to do, other than that it all started with a seed that fell from the sky and which has since been stolen from her. The personal history she has partially forgotten (including her birth name) is imparted to the reader in early chapters. We get to see the seed from which her power and her legend grew and the tragedy that drove her to partial amnesia and a nomadic lifestyle. She is dependent on the power of her legend to entice people to feed her, clothe her, and provide her with reading material, but she never abuses those who provide her what she needs. In the first chapter, realizing she needs food and new clothes, Sankofa bypasses the poorer houses of the village she is passing through and goes directly to the richest house in the neighborhood. And even then, she asks only for a good meal, her favorite drink (orange Fanta, room temperature), and a new set of clothes in her people’s native style. Sated and clothed, she leaves without doing anyone any harm. Sankofa also doesn’t abuse her actual power, other than killing mosquitoes who get too close. She only kills when someone who is terminally ill asks her to do so, or when it’s in self-defense (and even then, notably, she tries not to kill if she can avoid it). In other hands, this power could have been used to gain more power or control over a town or a region or more. Instead, it is somehow in the hands of a young woman who just wants to locate the lost seed that calls to her across great distances. She’s lonely and she’s tired of traveling. She loves animals, tries to see the best in people. She wants peace and privacy and a return to normalcy. They get denied to her at almost every turn, but she never loses hope that someday she’ll understand everything and have a quiet life.
Remote Control is a wonderful new entry under the “Afrofuturism” genre umbrella, science fiction fully immersed in African society, tradition, and history. I have no idea if Okorafor plans to continue Sankofa’s story. This novella has a satisfying ending that brings things full circle, but there are some questions I think are still lingering that could drive further stories.