Remote Control Nnedi Okorafor Quotes

Her story travelled like an ancestor, always ahead of, beside and behind her.

She loved this tree so much and every so often, it seemed to love her back, too, its leaves looking greener in the sunshine than any other tree.

Why did you call me over?” Sankofa asked. The woman crossed her arms over her chest, inspecting Sankofa as if she were the daughter of her best friend. “I like to look into the eyes of hurricanes,” she said.

In Sankofa's years on the road, she'd learned that people were complicated. They wore masks and guises to protect or hide their real selves. They reinvented themselves. They destroyed themselves. They built on themselves. She understood people and their often contradictory ways...

She’s the adopted child of the Angel of Death. Beware of her. Mind her. Death guards her like one of its own.” There was truth in every single one of the stories.

People treat it with more respect than they treat any police officer. Maybe because the robot is polite, helpful and never asks for bribes.

This was the type of cigarette that made people see God, slowed time and attracted happiness.

Now, in her fourteenth year on earth, if there was one rule she lived by it was the fact that Stories were soothsayers, truth-tellers and liars

You’re smaller than I imagined you,” she said with a smirk. She took a puff from her cigarette and exhaled the smoke. It smelled sweet and heady. This was the type of cigarette that made people see God, slowed time and attracted happiness. “Maybe your imagination is not big enough,” Sankofa said.

She slurped her coffee loudly. “If you hide forever, you’ll never find anything.

Everything’s collecting data,” one of the boys said. His name was Michael and he was always asking Sankofa to attend the flash parties he liked to organize. “All these devices we use are spies. That’s why you’re like a superhero; they can’t control you. You wearing hijab now must drive the spies crazy because they can’t easily see your face.

she looked up and there was the fox who’d been skulking around her town. “You’re alive, too!” she’d whispered happily. It stood on the other side of the stream staring at her, water dripping from its narrow muzzle. Then it trotted from the shallows into the bushes, disappearing into the shadows with a swish of its luxuriant red-orange tail. Even after it was gone, the forest felt that much friendlier and welcoming.

She slurped her coffee loudly. “If you hide forever, you’ll never find anything. And there is one thing you know you want to find. Go and find it, stupid nonsense child.

If I thought like that, I’d have never gone on to earn my PhD and become a physicist. I’d have been one of the sad bush women here, shackled to a husband and children.

Fatima envied her. She wanted to see what it was like outside of town, too. She often saw airplanes fly across the sky and she imagined just how far she could see if she stood on top of one of those as it flew faster than a dragonfly.

The town was clearly not poor. There were a few huts, but they were well built and well kept. This night, though dark as a cave, Sankofa could see hints of bright light coming from within. These mud huts had electricity. People feared her but they still wanted to watch television.

There was talk of a new virus and fear of this resulting in a pandemic faster and more lethal than the one in 2020.

However, her mind was often clouded and those parts that were clear were populated with dark corners.