Chapter 2: Oyinbo Prophet and Alien Warning

For the end of 1979, one rich man pikin waka alone go north to plant trees, dey try save one kind swallow.

Mike Evans, oyinbo with pepper-red face and pocket wey deep like oil well, no fit blend for the small village. The elders dey watch am, dey shake head, whisper: "Which kind wahala this one dey find?" But Evans, e just dey carry spade, dey plant, dey talk to birds like person wey never see wahala.

As he dey watch the swallows, memory from another life just rush am like flood.

Na so sweat break for him face. The memory hit am heavy—pictures of war, burning cities, heartbreak wey fit turn man to stone. Evans bend down, hug him knees, as the world spin for him eyes. For one moment, na only the birds dey real.

The pain of how wire take cut am into three for his last life still dey his mind.

Sometimes, if him hand touch anything sharp, the old pain go flash again. E dey carry the wound like invisible tattoo, e never heal. The villagers dey talk say this oyinbo get spirit wey no dey settle.

"Human beings no deserve to be saved, this Earth too," Mike Evans decide sharp sharp.

He look the sky, spit on ground, hiss: "Make everything scatter, I no send again." The bitterness for his voice strong like ogogoro.

By 1985, as soon as he inherit him papa big money, Evans press brown envelope for local government chairman hand, smile wide, say "Oga, abeg help us clear this land." With that, he begin build ETO base for Judgment Day.

Evans move with speed, no dey waste time. Him dey use dollar sweep land for Abuja outskirts, bribe any government man wey stand for road. Dem say the base dey coded—soldier no fit see am, police no fit find am. E dey deep for bush, fence high reach sky.

This time, he swear say nobody go fit become ETO spiritual leader except him.

He dey call meeting, dey stand for front, voice thunder for the hall, eyes red. Any small wahala, he clear person. People begin dey fear am, but dem respect am too. He fit pray and curse for the same breath.

By 1987, when the base don ready, na him hand fire enhanced electromagnetic signal go sun, send his first letter.

The machine dey hum, generator dey roar, Evans dey sweat for control room. As he push button, electricity spark, the smell of burnt wire fill air. Him mind dey race—this na the beginning of the end.

For the 12,000 MHz band, na the first time sun shine pass every other star for Milky Way.

Scientists for base dey open mouth, dey watch monitor. "Oga, e work o!" someone shout. Evans just nod, eyes sharp like hunting dog. All the world fit hear, but na only one answer he dey wait for.

Inside his letter, Evans swear loyalty to the Lord, promise to help Trisolarans capture Earth.

He kneel down, eyes closed, hands raised like pastor wey dey command blessing. For him mind, e see Trisolaris as holy land, e see himself as prophet. Na strong faith, but e dey burn like fever.

Hope full him body, sure say in eight years, reply go land.

Him chest dey beat gbim gbim as he count days, mark calendar, dey wait for sign. Each night, e dey stare sky, dey pray make the answer land. But na only silence dey answer am.

But nothing come.

He dey wake up for night, sweat dey body, dream of green light from sky. But morning go come, no sign, only cold harmattan breeze.

Every year after, Evans go dey send message to Trisolaris as e suppose, dey report ETO progress, dey pray make the Lord show.

His followers dey gather, dey sing, dey fast, dey hope. Evans fit fast three days, dey give order with hollow voice. He go dey report every small thing—who join, who run. Still, only silence.

But for the third year, Evans just kpai for car accident.

The story spread for town like fire: Oyinbo crash, base close, people dey run up and down. Some say na enemy work, others say na God punish am. For Evans, dream end quick, but trouble just dey start.

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"This mumu—why e dey rush expose our two star systems like this?"

The control chamber for Trisolaris dey cold, metal walls dey shine green-blue under fake sun. The Leader voice dey echo, heavy, as aides bow for floor. Anger dey sharp for him eyes, like scorpion sting.

Trisolaran Leader vex. Since Earth year 1975, e don already get memory of the future.

Leader dey sit for high chair, robe shining, mind full of secret plans. Future memories dey clash with old protocols. For every thought, e dey see disaster and hope, mixed together like rain and dust.

He order make dem arrest Monitor 1379, bring am come front.

Security bots rush 1379 enter, chain shine like silver for neck. Others for room dey hiss, dey avoid 1379 eye, as if memory fit infect them too.

"You know the wahala wey you cause?"

Voice cold like Jos harmattan. 1379 stand, tall but humble, no fit hide fear, but pride still dey inside. Him voice no shake as e answer.

"Yes, Your Excellency. But I no regret am." 1379 know say e no fit hide anything.

For alien court, every mind dey open. But 1379 still hold small stubbornness for heart. Dem say Trisolarans no get soul, but this one, e get weight for conscience.

Since e come back, Monitor 1379 just dey wait for signal from Earth.

E dey look sky every rotation, dey check frequency. Hope dey mix with worry. Dream dey come, blue and green planet dey wave at am like mama wey dey call pikin.

This time, he go still do the same thing.

No matter how many timeline e waka, the urge to warn no dey disappear. Na like family tie wey no fit break.

All because of that fine blue paradise wey e dey see for dream.

E dey think: Wetin dey special about this Earth? Why heart dey pull me back there, even after all this time? But the dream dey sweet, even if na only illusion.

But signal no show as e expect. E mean say something don happen for Earth?

E shake, anxiety grip am. E dey wonder if e fail, or if destiny don move hand again. For alien, this kind uncertainty dey torture pass electric shock.

At that point, Monitor 1379 just dey confused. But e also sabi say with the way technology dey move, both star systems go soon expose each other.

E dey reason—Earth dey sharp, Trisolaris dey sharper. But the game don dey different. No hiding again, soon na open war.

Plus, Trisolaran world go still send big interstellar fleet to Earth, burn the land, dry the rivers.

E remember stories of ancient wars, planets wey turn desert, children wey vanish. E pain am, but e know say e fit still warn, even if nobody listen.

"Maybe I suppose warn them make dem no send any signal to Trisolaris."

E dey reason, e dey scratch head. For every action, another chain reaction go start. But e feel responsibility like heavy load for back.

But if e do am, no be Trisolaris go expose?

For Trisolaris, to warn outsiders na taboo. To carry other people matter for head, na betrayal of kin. But e no fit keep quiet.

For the last stellar era, some Trisolaran wey dey dream big really try that warning. But this time different, because Earth people fit read cosmic signals now.

E dey remember old stories, how some elders try help strangers and lose everything. But for this timeline, e dey sure say Earth people ready to read sign.

1379 think of him long, lonely life. After 600,000 Trisolaran cycles, e no too strange if memory from another timeline just enter head.

For alien mind, time dey like river—sometimes e bend, sometimes e break banks. 1379 don carry pain, but e no dey fear new memory. E dey accept am as rain accept thunder.

The Doomsday War, Australian wahala, even the final photonic strike wey hit Trisolaris—all flash for 1379 mind.

E see destruction, hear screams, feel loss. E remember how leaders dey shout, "Hold the line!" but hope run dry. Still, for e mind, the face of blue planet dey stubborn.

"Earth people don suffer too much because of Trisolaris. Something must happen before dem scatter this old listening post," he tell himself.

E dey speak low, as if e dey pray. For Trisolaris, listening post na sacred ground, but e ready to break rule for sake of conscience.

Quick quick, using the codes and frequencies wey e remember, e write warning go Earth:

"No answer, no answer, no answer. I come from star wey dey above una head. If una receive my message, na big luck for una civilization. I dey warn una: no answer, no answer, no answer. If una reply, dem go locate your transmitter, invade your civilization, capture your world. Abeg, always hide. No answer, no answer, no answer. If una reply, dem go find una like goat wey stray for market."

E dey type with shaking hand, code dey flash for screen. Each word heavy, as if na last confession before judgment.

E no waste time before e press transmit.

E close eye, heartbeat dey loud. For one moment, e hope say maybe history go shift, maybe e go save one soul, even if e lose everything.

Now, this message dey show for Trisolaran Leader front.

All the elders and security chiefs dey look monitor, mouth open. The room cold, but sweat dey trickle for some people back.

"You don betray Trisolaris," the Leader talk coldly.

The words sharp, cut like knife. Silence fall, only faint hum of air system dey remain.

"Yes. But I no regret am," 1379 answer, dey calm.

1379 voice no shake. E dey steady, like person wey don accept fate. For alien, this na rare courage.

"Wetin you no know be say, five Trisolaran seconds before you send the signal, I don already order make dem cut off all the transmitters wey dey near you," the Leader talk. "To allow low-level monitor control big transmitter na the most foolish policy for Trisolaran history. We go stop all ultrahigh-frequency transmitters for low admin level."

1379 mouth open, shock dey face. Just five seconds—e pain like needle. Policy change dey run faster than even dreams.

So, e no even send am. 1379 feel small pain for chest. Just five seconds—if to say e type less ‘no answer’, maybe e for change Earth fate.

E rub chest, try swallow the pain. Fate dey stubborn, even when person dey try e best. E dey wonder—maybe the world no dey ever change.

The Leader look am, dey hope to see regret for e mind.

Eyes narrow, waiting for tears or apology. But 1379 just dey calm, as if e dey look rain fall for farm.

"E no change anything. No wahala," 1379 talk.

E smile small, knowing say history no fit shift for only one man stubbornness. But at least e try.