Missing Stars

Chapter 11 | After

Chapter 11 | After

I guide Alex through a labyrinth of monorails and alleys, flying high over a line of matatus and boda bodas beckoning customers in high voices. When we pause at a traffic stop, I show him some of the important landmarks in New Nairobi. The Parliament House with its arched entrance and a clock tower so tall, it stands like a guardian keeping a watchful eye over the city. The Kenyatta International Conference Centre, an impressive slab of glittering glass and polished stone. The kaleidoscope of colors from Nadar Hanging Gardens, home to hundreds of botanical species indigenous to Africa. And the Jamia Mosque with its twin minarets and beautiful domes that glow silver in the sun.

When the traffic lights flash green, we keep moving. Alex tinkers with the radio, picks a channel broadcasting local music. The song is catchy and I recognize the lyrics. The desire to sing along builds within me, a bird of melody ready to soar high. I can't help but reminisce over our riding days in Scepter. When we weren't free-roaming across the Martian wildlands, guns blazing as we hunt down rare alien monsters to earn skill points and loot, we would go on leisure rides in the coastline of Hera, the most beautiful planet in the game universe. And sometimes we'd play music on our rides. I'd sing at the top of my lungs just to encourage Alex to join me. He was completely and hopelessly tone-deaf which often resulted in hilarious riding sessions.

"I've always wanted this," Alex says, his voice half-swallowed by the wind.

"What?" I freeze.

He slows down the hoverbike. "Spending time with you in person. This beats any virtual reality moment."

"Listen, Alex." My fingers squeeze the luggage rack. "Don't bring up the past."

His shoulders droop. "I'm sorry."

Every minute I spend with him returns a shade of our shared past. I don't want him to speak about it. It will make the past feel more real and ignite my anger and heartbreak. It's bad enough that I keep remembering things I shouldn't.

Just one day, Kelrina, I tell myself. You're already halfway through it.

But even though I tell myself that, a part of me is terrified of how fast time moves. I keep pondering if I should force Alex to tell me the truth or let it go. Sometimes, ignorance is bliss. 

"I see the park," Alex says, pointing at the entrance gate.

It takes us less than ten minutes to slip through the traffic, park our hoverbike and pay the entrance fee. With only five minutes left, the hoverbike will soon return to the nearest designated spot on autopilot, ready to serve a new customer.

Alex beholds Uhuru Gardens in all its splendor. Every monument in this memorial park is either a testament to the struggle for independence from the British reign in the Old Era or a mark of freedom and unity. There are couples, children and picnickers basking in the sun. We first stop at the independence commemorative monument, a twenty-four meters long pyramid-shaped column sheltering a pair of clasped hands that balance a dove of peace. Alex doesn't have his EyeCOMM on so I tell him what I know.

"On this spot, in the year 1963, independence was declared in Kenya." I run a hand over the dove. "Over forty thousand people gathered on these grounds to celebrate."

He stares at the monument in awe. "This is amazing. I feel humbled."

I smile. "Wait till you see the Fountain of Heroes."

We walk past a statue of freedom fighters raising the Kenyan flag, follow a cobbled path through a cluster of trees and emerge on an open courtyard. Twenty-one sculptures of famous freedom fighters stand at ten meters high, made of black polished granite. They circle a water fountain of a giant acacia tree. Plumes of water trickle from its branches.