take a deep breath and tell her what I saw.
‘I glitched forwards this morning in a moment of boredom. Since I’ve been glitching, I’ve noticed that there is always a buzz and crackle when I first arrive somewhere else. Like my mind is trying to pick up the radio signal and tune in to the frequency. It lasts a few minutes. It’s tinny and screechy, but I can hear the voices on the other side and I know that I just need to stand a minute and recalibrate.
‘I was shaking my head, trying to clear my ears of the crackle, and watching the crowd. We were standing near the parking lot, right by where the statue used to be. Now there’s just that cement block that used to be the base. Do you know it?’
She looks down campus in the right direction, so I go on.
‘As usual, Hector was in the thick of things, marching towards Sindiwe and me. She was holding the microphone, must have been waiting for him to get to the block. He looked like he was ready to burst.
As he jumped up on the stone, he raised his right hand in a fist into the air. He looked like he was born to do it. Like this moment was his destiny.
‘You know who I mean, right? You’ve seen him. The skinny one with the good looks and the arrogant smile?’
My voice tremors, but I push on. I can’t believe I used to find friendship in that smile. But that’s not for now either.
‘Twenty-one years old and the man thinks he is a god – to the ladies and to the movement. Like we need another man telling us what to do. Still, once you get taken seriously in movements like these, you better hope your dick is as big as you’re pretending it is. The hopes and expectations of thousands of students depend on you getting what they want for them, protecting them and their interests.’ I try to avoid thinking about how Hector didn’t protect me. ‘If you don’t, you’re gone just as fast as you got here.
‘I could see as he turned towards us that his shirt read: Too rich for NSFAS, too poor for fees, too black for a bank loan. Too honest for democracy is what it should have read.’
She takes out a notebook and pen, starts writing, and looks at me, gesturing with her hand for me to go on, like a horizontal royal wave. I look around again to make sure nobody’s listening, but there are just a bunch of students resting on the lawn, jamming to their Bluetooth speakers. We’re still safe.
‘So anyway, Hector was standing there, looking out at all of us, his eyes wide and alert, his forehead gleaming with sweat. As he opened his mouth to shout, he flinched sharply, and his face was a kaleidoscope of expressions in a split second. He turned away from the crowd to look back at Sindiwe and me, and then his eyes went so calm and peaceful. He collapsed. He didn’t even put his hands out to stop himself. People began to run, Sindiwe grabbed my hand and we started to run too. Nobody wanted to be the next to get shot.’
She stops writing, her eyes wrinkled in concern. ‘Who shot him?’
‘The thing is, there was nobody there—’
‘Nobody where?’ she interrupts me again, and I’m not sure if that’s what journalists usually do or if she just has a short attention span. Still, I can’t stop telling her now that I’ve started. I might be furious with Hector, but I don’t want him to die.
‘From the sky. That way.’ I point in the direction of the SRC building. ‘That’s where the shot seemed to come from, but there was nobody there.’
‘Nobody there to shoot him? But how could you see that if you were running the other way?’
Fair question. I guess it’s truth time.
‘I suppose I’d better be honest.’
She rolls her eyes. ‘That’d be a good start.’
‘I haven’t only seen this scene once. I’ve seen it a few times today; I keep going back to check and it’s always the same. The shot comes from the direction of the SRC building. I think I see two people there, but sometimes it looks like only one. When I look closely I just see … something. It’s not clear.’ In my mind it’s shimmering metal, like mercury. But I don’t want her to think I’m completely mad.
‘So you look on the roof, and you see either one or two people and one of them shoots Hector?’
‘But then they’re gone.’
‘Gone how?’
‘It’s like as soon as they take the shot, they just … They just dissolve.’
Her eyebrows are raised and she’s biting her lip like she doesn’t know what to make of my story. I carry on.
‘Every time I go back, Sindiwe pulls me away before I can get a proper look. The crowd is going insane and it’s impossible to stand still. It happens too fast. I can’t do anything to help him. None of us can. Each time I go back, I hear someone scream: “He’s not breathing. Someone call an ambulance. Someone!” Then I’m back in real time, the glitch is over, and I’m not that someone to help him.’
In telling her what I saw, a euphoria has started to spread through my body. She watches me, unembarrassed. Now that I’m done talking, she’s taking her time to ask a question.
I use the pause to reapply my lipstick, straighten my skirt down over my thighs, and attempt to tame my wild hair. Just because the world is falling apart doesn’t mean my looks should suffer. She watches me making myself up, and I can see she’s straining to avoid rolling her eyes. Whatever.
‘And you believe this “glitch” you keep seeing is real?’
‘Trust me, the things that I’ve seen before have turned out like I saw them in a glitch. Every single time.’
‘And you think this happens sometime this week?’
‘I know it. Like I said, seven days is the furthest forward I have been. Today’s Monday, so that means sometime between now and Sunday, Hector is going to be shot. I can’t help him on the day, but maybe you can.’
‘How do you work that one out?’
‘If you start trying to solve this now you can work out who’d want to kill him. Or what can shoot and then dissolve. Or find a way to get him out of there or something.’
‘To be honest, this all sounds a little far-fetched for a paper like ours. Maybe you want to talk to someone from The New Age?’
‘No, you’re the right person. I know you care about your stories.’
‘Do you have any proof at all that any of this is true?’
‘You still remember that feeling like you were about to hit the rock, don’t you?’
She nods, a faraway look in her eyes. I know she can do this. Truth is, I know more about her than I’m letting on. I know she helped that journalist break the story about Sindiwe’s dad. I know she knows more about how very weird this world can be, that there are things you can’t just explain with logic. I know she knows that sometimes there are bigger forces at play. What I don’t know is if she’ll help me.
‘Will you at least try? See if you can save him?’
She folds up her notebook and packs it away. She hesitates a moment before walking away. ‘I’ll try.’
I stick out my hand to shake hers. ‘I’m Thuli, by the way.’
‘Helen Miller.’
CHAPTER 3
Helen
‘It’s hard to be an original protestor, but it’s not difficult to think you are one. I see these students, day in and day out, thinking they’re the first to fight power and have a fist full of “democracy” shoved down their throats. I’ve been covering this type of thing for years and it never seems to change. The images might, the faces can, but the actual process almost feels linear to me these days. You start fierce; you end fatigued.’