‘Kachifo,’ the old man said to him in greeting.

It was indeed a good night, Esosa thought. He smiled back at the old man and nodded his head to return the pleasantries. Esosa held his breath as the old man walked past him and left the shop. The bell hanging over the door sounded as it closed after the man. Esosa could breathe again now that the old man had left. He knew him – his name was Uncle Big. (Esosa became uncomfortable as he pondered how the man got that name.)

It took all of his strength of mind to stop him from chasing after the old man and beating his brains out.

He watched Uncle Big through the glass window. The old man was limping a little and stopped to scratch his leg. Then he turned momentarily and spied Esosa watching him. He looked enquiringly at Esosa, with a puzzled expression. That was when Esosa became aware that he was frowning. Esosa turned his dark face away. (Not yet. His time will come, soon.)

The bell sounded again. Esosa moved his head toward the shop entrance and saw that Uncle Big was now standing in front of him. He felt like holding his breath again but knew he had already done enough to antagonise the old man. (Your time will come. But not yet.)

‘Have I done anything to offend you, son?’ Uncle Big asked him in Igbo.

Esosa shook his head. His Igbo was still good, and he had always maintained his accent. ‘No, sir,’ he said. Again, the urge to hold his breath. ‘I was just thinking of something. I lost my job recently.’

‘Oh, I am sorry to hear that,’ Uncle Big said. ‘You know, we have a prayer meeting in church. You should come over tomorrow.’

‘Thank you,’ Esosa said. ‘Is it the Fellowship of Angels and Saints?’

Uncle Big pulled his head back and looked with renewed suspicion at Esosa.

(Don’t blow it now. I’ve planned for too long to mess this up.)

‘It’s just that I’ve heard good things about that church,’ Esosa said. ‘I hear there are many signs and wonders shown by the overseer.’

‘I left that place a long time ago.’

(I’m sure you did.)

‘Are you sure you have not been sent to threaten me into going back, because I can tell you right now that I will not go back to that place?’ Uncle Big shook as he delivered his speech.

(He really is afraid of these people.) ‘I am sorry if I upset you, sir,’ Esosa said. ‘I did not mean to.’

Uncle Big looked intently at him. Then he hissed and stormed off.

(No, no, no…)

Esosa resisted the urge to chase after him. He would have his day yet. He knew it. The old man would come back. And Esosa would be waiting when he did.

‘It’s going on nine,’ the shopkeeper said. ‘I allow you to hang out here, but…’

Esosa nodded. ‘I’m going,’ he said.

The shopkeeper cleared his throat noisily, and Esosa turned back. ‘Thanks for reminding me.’ He shoved a wad of Naira bills into the shopkeeper’s hand.

‘I don’t know what you’re doing with your life, young man,’ the shopkeeper said – it was a little patronising of this man to address him as “young man”, seeing as he was only a little older than Esosa. ‘As long as you’re here, you can work for me.’

‘Right. I’ll pay you to work for you.’

The shopkeeper shrugged.

‘Let’s just keep things as they are,’ Esosa said with a sneer. ‘And remember, there’s a lot more where that came from. If you continue to keep your mouth shut and allow me to hang out here, then you’ll get more.’

‘Hey, just as long as no one gets hurt, I’m happy. You won’t hurt anyone, will you?’ The question was asked with some uncertainty.

Esosa knew his type. He just needed some assurance to assuage his conscience. ‘I won’t,’ Esosa said. He was lying.

He left the shop and walked to where he had parked his bicycle. In keeping with his image, he hadn’t chosen anything expensive. His whole appearance had been made to blend in. He was just another nameless man in what was a fairly large town. The billboard in the town square said the population was ten thousand.

But he had been here a long time. He was, after all, a city boy – maybe it didn’t start this way, but for the last decade of his life, at least, he had lived in big cities: first in Lagos, and then in London, where he obtained his Master’s degree – and he tired of the smallness of everything around him. His heart craved a big screen TV, apple pie; wine that didn’t come served in a calabash, and access to eSpirit.

He rode his bicycle purposefully around the town. It was dark and most people would be indoors now, except for the club – some wannabe bringing a taste of city life to the town with a pretentious attempt to encourage nightlife.

He needed to be seen by people, keep up his profile. To the club he went, parked his bike; gave the doorman a reason to let him in, even though he was not on the list, with a generous tip. The man was huge, and he was breathing heavily, as if every step he took required a huge effort. Esosa wondered how he would stand up against an agile person with a really violent streak who would not be intimidated by size. The doorman took a look at the large denomination of each bill that had been shoved into his hand. The smile that came told Esosa that he was in.

He milled around inside the club. There were custom-made lights flashing their kaleidoscope of colours to suggest a high-end facility, maybe for yuppies. It only looked tacky. But the owner of the club knew his audience – the appearance of the modern was enough to attract a preponderance of youth who were anxious for a taste of big city life.

He spied the owner of the establishment, Goodwill, talking to what looked like esteemed guests. Goodwill left them the moment he saw Esosa. He considered Esosa to be more highly esteemed, though he was shabbily dressed.

‘Mr Chike,’ Goodwill said when he got to Esosa. This was what he was known as here – Mr Chike Chiejile. It was yet another lie; it was getting harder to keep track of all of them.

‘Mr Goodwill,’ Esosa returned. Before he spoke again, he shoved a present into the breast pocket of Goodwill’s jacket.

Goodwill tapped his pocket lightly. There was no need to check what had been given now. If the other times were all he had to go by, he could safely conclude that it was substantial.

‘Generous as always, I’m sure, Mr Chike,’ he said. ‘Do you want a more private place to speak?’ The music in the club was loud and they had to shout over all the noise to hear one another.

‘This place is fine,’ Esosa – also known as Chike – said. ‘I won’t be long. I just need you to get word around to a Mr Nduka Ekwueme. Do you know him?’

‘Uncle Big, yes.’

‘I think he is suspicious of me, and I just want it understood that I am a reformed – shall we say, person who made a lot of money by bad means. And I want to make penance by giving this money away to good causes.’

‘I also have experienced this generosity.’

‘So, you know that while I may look poor, I do have a lot of money to spend on … friends.’

‘And you would like Mr Nduka to be your friend.’

‘If he pleases,’ Esosa responded.

Goodwill nodded knowingly. ‘How badly do you want this man’s friendship?’

‘Enough to make a contribution to his church.’

‘Hmm….’

‘I like this man,’ Esosa continued.

‘Who, Uncle Big?’

‘What, do you know something I should?’

Goodwill hesitated. ‘I’m not sure. I hear he is trying his best to be a better person these days. So maybe I shouldn’t judge.’

‘What, does he have a questionable past?’

‘At some point in life, everyone does.’

‘And so, you turn philosopher.’

‘I’m just saying that by your own admission, you are reformed. I think he is trying to be so, as well.’

Esosa couldn’t stop himself from frowning. But he said, ‘Then I think that he is a good candidate to receive my favour.’

‘I will get the word around,’ Goodwill said. He tapped his breast pocket lightly, said thank you with a nod of his head, and walked back to the guests he left earlier.

Esosa had done his bit now. There was nothing else he could do but wait. But he missed city life and wouldn’t wait here. He went back outside and got on his bike.

He rode in the cover of darkness – there were no streetlights here. And he got to where he had hidden his car.

The drive to the city took a quarter of an hour going at 120mph on what were very treacherous roads. He would be dead but for the intelligent software that controlled the safety features of his car.

The city was the biggest around those parts – to see anything as large, you would have to go all the way to Asaba to the West.

He walked along a typical modern Eastern Nigerian commercial street, with the modern standing side by side with the old and underdeveloped. He went past the familiar façades of shops, launderettes, restaurants, and eSpirit centres. But he did not use these. As always, he had a routine that he always followed. That was how he kept safe – by sticking to a routine.

Esosa now went through an alleyway and navigated an arcade – tech shops were on either side. He found the centre he wanted and went in.

He threw a nod to the proprietor, who, like many, appreciated Esosa’s money. The man nodded back – Esosa’s spot was available, and if it wasn’t, it would be.

Esosa went into a cubicle and pulled a curtain after him. This was as private as it got here. The eSpirit was a huge machine – there were versions with smaller terminals, but Esosa was a programmer – he preferred virtual reality to be done this way – full immersion. He logged in. The world around him disintegrated and he was in.

This was where he made all his plans. The rendering was powerful – skin looked like skin; hair looked like hair; the animation of the avatars was flawless. He saw his wife and felt a lump in his throat. He played out a scene from when he first saw her. He programmed this scene himself, and he played it often to remind himself of her.

The interactive scene played for almost twenty-five minutes before it ended. Esosa wiped his eyes. Months ago, there would have been tears, but he had stopped that now. He had no more tears, only regret, and anger – a lot of anger. Next, he played a scene he constructed from fragments of what his wife had revealed to him, and the information he had gleaned since he started his investigation.

She was young in this scene: Ego Ekwueme played in the sand. She looked so sad; her father was drunk, as usual, and her uncle had just raped her. Uncle Big sat quietly in a corner. His eyes looked intently at her, forbidding her from revealing their secret.

Both time and space could be modelled here – but unlike real time, he could fast forward in the eSpirit.

He saw the timeline dart furiously before him. Now he saw her and him. He had received an offer from the University of London to take a Master’s degree in advanced computing. He would specialise in implementing real life physics in the eSpirit universe. There was no need to model his time in London. That wasn’t his concern. His infatuation was with what he had missed while he was away: His daughter – her name was Chinwe – came before his eyes. Ego was protecting her. He had played this scene over and over in his mind before he created it in the eSpirit. He knew how it would go. Ego found out that her uncle was looking at Chinwe the same way he used to look at her. She confronted him. He told her that he would accuse Chinwe of being a witch before the whole village. He had done this before – when she was a kid. Esosa looked into her eyes. He could see another scene encapsulated inside. The scene was exactly like the one he had seen previously, where the big man stared at Ego when she was a child, forbidding her to speak of their wanton affair.

Though Ego remembered, she would not be afraid of him. Not this time. For her daughter’s sake, she would resist. She would not allow Chinwe to suffer as she suffered.

Esosa rewound time. He needed to see what happened when he first left the country. Time was fluid in the eSpirit. He was in control and was now back to just after he had left. Ego’s parents were supposed to take care of her. He had sent money from abroad when he could. But the money never reached her. He looked at her parents – Mr and Mrs Ekwueme. He had already decided not to hurt them. Uncle Big was another matter. He would hurt him. Now his pulse rose – he was already getting a kick just thinking about his revenge. He looked at the very last scene where he would kill Uncle Big. He started sweating and was clearly aroused. It was always like this. The world of the eSpirit was the place where he lived out his fantasy. But now he had to make this universe real. He was stirred up enough. He wanted action now. He removed his 3D goggles. That was enough for today. There was still the need to wait some more – not for long, he hoped. (Your time is coming soon. Behold, Uncle Big, I lust for your destruction.)