Chapter Five

September 14, Year One

Nairobi, Kenya

Stephen was still drunk when he woke up, his phone going crazy on the bedside table next to him, and with one hand he turned it off. He had to really stretch his finger to get to the confirmation button in the centre of the screen but he managed it and, as his head fell back onto the pillow, almost felt proud of himself. But, his head spinning, he knew before it landed that he wasn't getting back to sleep anytime soon. He never did if woken up so early – sober or not.

The studio apartment was small and, eventually, Stephen hoped to upgrade, if he ever got a girlfriend with whom he could split the rent. At least it meant he didn't have to walk far to reach the sink. He poured himself, and drank, several glasses of water, surprised by the amount of noise still outside. It was four in the morning and, still, the city sounded so alive – police sirens abounded in the night and helicopters were in the sky.
"Unbelievable," Stephen muttered, leaning against the wall, chugging water, hoping it'd soothe his head and knowing nothing would until he got some Diet Coke. Or got back to sleep. Drinking had been a stupid idea, he thought at the sight of the cans scattered about near the couch – he didn't have work tomorrow but he did have life, and what had his father told him? "Every day is a good day to live." Well, that must be lovely advice for a man who figured it all out by just going into the church, where they have the guides to life written down for you, but Stephen had a doctorate and no idea how to use it. That required more than platitudes to solve.

Outside, the commotion was continuing – and, with its continuation, becoming stranger. It seemed like every police car in Nairobi was going past Stephen's apartment.

"For goodness sake," he muttered, wandering to the window, stepping over the cans as he walked. He pulled open the curtains – and froze. His apartment had a prime view of the Nairobi skyline and there, hanging over it like a spirit, was some vast machine. It was sleek, almost like some amphibious animal in its shape, gleaming in the night with Nairobi's lights making clear its silvery-purple finish. Stephen recognised it at once as some sort of alien starship – the very words were absurd and yet there they were, living in his head, like it made sense, which it didn't. He felt strange. And sober.

Then Stephen watched, stunned to silence, as from the great ship's belly there came pouring countless little purple dots – these swarmed like insects before, as a great mass, he watched them dive onto the city. Blasts of green and neon blue shot from them, and explosions rippled from one end of the city to the other – the Old Mutual Tower, a beacon of light shining skywards from its structure, erupted in flames. Orange light illuminated Nairobi in all directions. Huge sparks burst from every explosion. The apartment shuddered with each blast and Stephen fell, his legs giving up underneath him, and he crawled under his coffee table, trying to make sense of what could never make sense. He heard fresh sirens, alarms, screams from the street – one of the insects shot right over his window, and from under the table he noted its strange bulbous shape, its delicate looking wings, its absence of any discernable screen. Then, unseen by Stephen, one of the insects banked towards his apartment and let out a burst of plasma – it penetrated the fourth storey and exploded, shattering the building's supports, and the floor collapsed from under him. With the debris he fell, still alive until the coffee table landed on his skull, his body vanishing in the wreckage as half the building crumbled into dust.

In the sky above, a second cruiser appeared.