Page 31 of Death of the Author
“Yeah.” She sighed. “Maybe I’m a little angry. What black woman isn’t?”
“Facts. For good reason,” he said.
They looked out at the water for a while. The wind that rolled off it was so pleasant that she felt a bit teary-eyed.
“I don’t usually read sci-fi,” he said.
“Me neither,” she admitted, wrapping her arms around her chest. “I prefer stuff that’s realistic. I still think it’s weird that I wrote it.”
“Young lady, it’s a victory that youallowedyourself to write it.”
“Thank you,” she said.
When he walked away, she watched him go. He’d lived so many decades able to walk. She was glad for him. She’d only had twelve years.
She turned back to Lake Michigan.
An hour later, she was in the self-driving vehicle on her way home. Her phone was buzzing and beeping with its usual social media notifications and emails. The poor Yebo app was still learning how to compileit all, so the notifications kept popping up and then getting pulled into a more organized list. Then an image of Tolu’s wife, Folashade, filled up the screen. Yebo announced, “Call from:Answer the phone, it’s me. Answer the phone, it’s me. Answer the phone, it’s me.”
Zelu had muted every caller in her contacts list except for her family and Msizi. She was considering narrowing that down to just Msizi.
She pressed Accept. “Yes?” she asked.
“What are you doing downtown?” Folashade asked.
Zelu rolled her eyes, opening her map app to track her sister-in-law right back. “What are you doing in Naperville?”
“Can you come and watch over Man Man for the rest of the day? I’m sorry, I know you must be busy. But you can bring your work with you, right?”
Zelu smiled. She was actually in need of another distraction. Hanging out with Man Man, a humongous black Maine Coon cat who required the attention of a human at all times, was perfect. “I’m coming right now.”
“Seriously?” Ola asked. “You sure?”
“Yeah. Gimme a chance to reroute.”
She heard Ola huff through her nose. “You’re still using that autonomous vehicle cab service I’m always hearing about?”
“Yeah, I use it all the time.”
Silence.
“Hello?” Zelu asked.
“I’ve heard some scary stories about those,” Ola said forcefully. “Interrupting its route might be—”
“I’m already doing it,” Zelu said, swiping onto the app. “See you soon.”
She hung up just as the destination changed. An additional charge showed up on the screen embedded in the driver’s seat back. The car suddenly jerked its way to the side of the road. “Whoa,” she said. “What are you doing?”
It pulled back onto the outer lane, narrowly missing another car. It zipped to the other side of the street and turned into a parking lot. Way too fast, it made a circle, and then got back on the road in the other direction.
“Shit!” she exclaimed, holding on to the armrests on her chair.
When the SUV arrived at her brother’s house, the screen on the seat back filled up with the wordSorrywritten a dozen times in fat, skinny, large, small, multicolored fonts. “We understand that today’s ride was a little bumpy,” the automated voice said. “Please accept our apologies. This ride is on the house. Next time, we will do better.” Then in the middle of thesorrys, anAcceptbutton appeared. Zelu had seen this feature only once before, after her vehicle had gotten stuck in a busy supermarket parking lot for a half hour. Like then, now she clicked the button. There wasn’t another button tonotaccept. And if she didn’t tap it, maybe the doors wouldn’t open, and she’d end up talking to customer service for an hour. Besides, she was alive and the SUV had done its job. When one got into an autonomous vehicle, one knowingly accepted certain risks. She was fine.
She wheeled up to her brother’s front door, and just as she was about to use her key, it opened on its own.
“Zelu, good afternoon,” Tolu said. “Did Folashade seriously call you to take care of Man Man?”
