National Assembly

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National Assembly—ZenPens

All the well-dressed men and women who sat, incapable of moving, could smell it. Something gaseous was floating in the air in the room, this auditorium that took in all the lawmakers of this country. They could smell it. Even Honourable Abdul and Yinka and some other equally pot-bellied men standing, shouting at them, should too.

“How dare you, you witch come to the National Assembly and chain us? Our pastors and imams are on their way. Your witchcraft will have no power then.”

“Answer me this one question, Mr Senator please,” I said. “If a Nigerian could invent a generator that ran on water energy, would you guys support him?”

“Have our oil fields dried up? What will happen to those? Don’t you know that in this time and season oil still gives out money?”

“But with this new technology we can end flooding disasters and provide electricity to places that lack.”

“You are a fool.”

At that, I knew it was time to do it. “Leave,” I told the two comrades beside me. They did, disappearing.

Inhaling and exhaling, the gases drew closer and closer to me, getting more pronounced. And when I had them set at the proportion needed, I looked at the senators and said, “Iyalaya e.”

Then I snapped my fingers. My body set out fire that consumed the gases, that consumed the atmosphere, that consumed the people there. And the entire building was bombed.

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