The Tree of Truth

Ọtìn could name the day that she realized Oduduwa hated her. It had been exactly a month since her tenth birthday. Their group lived in a constantly shifting settlement of canvas tents deep in Dogo Forest, in an area once called Benin. They lived this way to conceal themselves from the roaming sensors of the Efficient Ones’ floating orbs and drones. Learning about plants and animals was key to their survival and her younger brother Oshosi already knew much more about the forest than Ọtìn ever would.

Ten-year-old pupils were trusted to venture into the forest with a tablet device for personal study. On this day, their instructor had the idea that Oshosi could join Ọtìn for her walk. Perhaps the boy might even share a lesson with his sister. This kind of thing was happening more and more. Her brother was two years her junior but the adults seemed to think Ọtìn could learn from him. Oshosi, who did not have a bone of humility in his body, took great pleasure in this.

‘I know a leaf that will stop your heartbeat.’ Oshosi and Ọtìn had been walking in silence for some time.

‘Great. I don't care.’

‘I do not expect you to believe me. I am pretty sure no-one else in our community knows about it. It has these curly leaves that remind me of a double helix.’ Oshosi received no response. ‘Anyway, seeing as I am the one who discovered it, I get to name it. Something simple like 'Efo Oshosi' could work. But maybe it would stand out more if I went for something old fashioned. 'Papaver Oshosium' sounds pretty good to me. What do you think?’

‘I think it would be really great if you stopped talking. Like, if I say I believe you about this stupid plant, will you just close your mouth for a while?’

‘Hmm. It is not a stupid plant, actually. I'll show you.’

Oshosi was only a head shorter than his sister, with most of that height seemingly taken up by legs. His long, loping stride was difficult to keep up with. They carried on without sharing another word. A few minutes later Oshosi plucked a curly leaf from a tall plant and put it into his mouth, chewing it a few times before swallowing with a theatrical gulp. He quickly pulled another leaf from a nearby plant and repeated the action.

‘Goodbye, sister. Please remember those plant names.’ Oshosi collapsed and started convulsing, froth showing at the corners of his mouth. Ọtìn let out a scream like she had taken a blow, the flood of panic making her dance gingerly from one foot to the other. She was not sure where they were. Oshosi knew the forest so well that Ọtìn had felt no need to pay attention to their route.

‘Oshosi, get up. Get up. This isn't funny. Get up!’ Ọtìn’s voice cracked as she shouted. Oshosi's eyes had rolled back and only the whites were showing. He was still shaking violently. Ọtìn lifted Oshosi into her arms and stood holding him for a few impotent moments. Finally she picked a direction and ran.

After a few wrong turns, Ọtìn eventually got back to the settlement, bellowing for help as soon as the familiar tents came into view. As she slowed Ọtìn became more aware of the flames of pain in her arms. She set Oshosi down, continuing to scream for help even his eyes caught her attention. They contained no terror. The pupils had returned and the set of his face retained that haughty manner that Ọtìn so disliked. Pleased to be proven right even if it cost his life.

Some adults soon arrived and hurried them to the medical tent. The doctor spoke to Ọtìn with thinly veiled disappointment.

‘You were out cataloguing the plants, correct?’ Ọtìn nodded. ‘Okay, which leaf did he eat?’

‘I don't know. There were a couple of them. It all happened too quickly. One of them had a curly leaf, but he said no-one here knows it.’

‘If you don't know what he ate, we are in deep trouble here. Why was he even with you? Whose idea was it? This is the reason we should not allow small children to walk out into the forest unsupervised. I have said it time and again.’ It was such a mix of questions and statements that Ọtìn did not really know how to respond. She opened and shut her mouth a couple of times without saying anything. The doctor lost patience, waving Ọtìn away and continuing the examination of Oshosi.

Yemoja arrived first. Ọtìn could see that her mother had been crying.

‘We will deal with whatever comes, Ọtìn. This is a benevolent universe and you have no need to fear. Now, tell me exactly what happened.’ Yemoja held her daughter in a gentle embrace. Ọtìn described the walk in the forest, told her that Oshosi had done this to himself. ‘Whatever you do, Ọtìn, do not say that when Oduduwa gets here. If you blame Oshosi, it will only anger him further. And he will be very upset when he gets here.’ There was sadness all over her face. She looked over Ọtìn's head. ‘How is he?’ The grim look on the doctor's face gave the answer. Oshosi was dead.

It was another half an hour before Oduduwa burst in, drenched with sweat and smeared with the gel the hunters used to mask their scent in the forest. He saw Oshosi's body lying on the bed and knew that he was too late. The sight of her father – this broad, powerfully built man – slumping almost to his knees as the hope in his eyes flickered out was shocking. Ọtìn had never seen an adult look so weak. Oduduwa laid his body over Oshosi’s, crumpled and weeping. Some moments later he stood bolt upright like he had heard a loud noise.

‘You.’ Oduduwa turned and pointed at Ọtìn. ‘You have done this. My son is dead because of you.’ He lunged unsteadily towards her like a drunkard, his face a contorted mask. Yemoja stepped between them.

‘We are all heartbroken, Oduduwa. Your first-born child Ọtìn is heartbroken too. You know how much Oshosi loves… loved the forest. It was a mistake. A terrible mistake. We cannot hold either of these children accountable for a youthful mistake.’ Oduduwa shook with rage as he listened to these words.

‘I am going to your place now, Yemoja, and I am collecting my things. I will be staying with Moremi from now on.’ He turned to the doctor. ‘See that his body is properly prepared and delivered to Moremi's house with appropriate speed. She will want some time with our child before we begin the funeral rites.’ Oduduwa stepped out of the tent, leaving behind him a stunned silence.

It had now been about an hour since Ọtìn had rushed through the woods. She and Yemoja left the tent when the doctor started cleaning Oshosi’s body. Stood outside, mother and daughter said nothing, turning over Oduduwa's words, unsure of what to do next. Then came a scream and the sound of glass smashing. Rushing back inside, they saw broken pieces of a jug at the foot of the bed. The doctor looked paler than Ọtìn had thought possible for anyone with brown skin.

‘The boy was dead. The boy was dead,’ the doctor repeated quietly. Oshosi was trying to sit up. He was mouthing something and Ọtìn got in closer so she could hear.

‘There was another leaf. It reversed the effect. You'll believe me next time, eh?’

Ọtìn howled with rage and ran out.

This is how their community came to know of the Malula plant. Consumed in very small amounts the leaves produced a narcotic effect, slowing the world down and causing visions behind the eyes. Oduduwa was one of those partial to this experience. As he grew older Oshosi tried several times to cultivate the plant so his father would have a reliable supply of leaves, but never with any success. The plant would only grow wild. His attempts were brought to an abrupt end by a forest fire after which no Malula plants could be found.

Oduduwa never moved back in with Yemoja.

***

They live in a world heavy with age before its time. Barely alive. Their cities are verdant and golden, yet their hearts are grey and their souls are wisps, blown away to nothing by the slightest breeze. The Efficient Ones have never disclosed their purpose. It did not take long for these wraiths in the cities first to stop asking and then to stop wondering altogether. They have long since grown blind to the orbs glowing over them and the dark drones that fill their cities like lice. Each generation despises itself a little more as the spark of their humanity grows weaker. Aged already as they emerge from the birthing chamber, decrepit before they have taken a single step.

Oshosi looked up from his reading. The light from the screen in front of him was falling differently. Things had changed since Oshosi was a boy – they now had the means to monitor the Efficient Ones’ ships stationed above Kétou, the city to the east of the forest. Each adult took regular shifts on the scanner. It was usually a chance to while away a few hours.

With a tremble in his voice Oshosi raised his wrist device to his lips and called Yemoja, the current chair of the elders’ council. There were still many hours till dawn.

‘Councillor, I am very sorry to wake you at this hour, but something has occurred that I believe warrants immediate attention. The ships have stopped glowing.’

‘You are certain?’ Yemoja was sharp, even at this hour. ‘Of course you are certain. You watch those evil spheres better than anyone. I will notify the other councillors and be with you shortly.’

Over the next few days the community regarded the orbs above Kétou with greater interest than they had for decades. Screens were set up in shared areas so all could watch. Most grew bored after the third day of inactivity. Oshosi and Ọtìn were among the few who continued the vigil. Ọtìn would probably not have stayed, but she was not taking her eyes off those screens until Oshosi did.

There were about twenty people in the main dinner tent when the spherical ships of the Efficient Ones suddenly flew upwards at great speed, disappearing from scanning range within seconds. Many gasped and leant back like a shockwave had come off the screen. Those glowing orbs had been in the sky above Kétou for almost two hundred years. After a moment of stunned silence, everyone started talking at once. Now almost twenty-five years old, Ọtìn sat without saying a word while frenzied conversations went on around her. Eventually she spoke out above the din.

‘Are we just going to sit here blowing hot air into the night?’ The people around Ọtìn stopped talking. She stood up, commanding the attention of all present with her height and immense strength of body and character. ‘Someone needs to find out what is happening in Kétou. I've been there on a scouting mission. This is no different. I’ll go.’

‘Okay, my child. Just be still for now. Why must you always be first in line for this kind of thing, eh? Let the elders discuss it first.’ Yemoja had also been in the tent and now gave her daughter a playful push on the shoulder. ‘If those ships really are gone, I don’t even know where we will start.’ Yemoja paused and raised a hand to her mouth, speaking directly to everyone in the settlement through her device. ‘I call a meeting.’

It was the right of every adult villager to call a meeting and the duty of all others to attend. Failure to comply was an offence, one of only a handful in this otherwise permissive group. Food burned on the stove when the call came, lovers jumped out of bed. Babies were woken from sleep and carried crying into the night. Yemoja had called a meeting and there was much to discuss.

Questions swirled around on private networks and in hushed conversations as the sixty-eight adults took their seats on the benches of the dinner tent. It was now open on all sides and light filtered through the trees as the sun came up. They had never met people from other groups but in Dogo their hearts told them that anywhere the forest was thick enough there must be other humans trying to exist beyond the range of The Efficient Ones’ scanners, refusing the brain implant that was the price of living in the open. Perhaps now they could find out for sure.

The benches faced three seats, already occupied by the councillors. Ọtìn sat in the second row, hardly speaking except to return a few greetings. She could see Oshosi on the other side of the gathering, unable to sit because of the constant stream of people coming by to chat. He was smiling and locking arms with the men, exchanging kisses with women of all ages. Oshosi, Oshosi, Oshosi. Rake thin, fork-tongued and capable of doing no wrong. The way the community fawned over her younger brother made Ọtìn want to regurgitate her food.

Sat in her usual seat on the right was Lola, a true elder at the age of one hundred and twenty-three. She had been on the council since her seventies. Oduduwa occupied the left seat. He flashed a toothy grin intermittently as various people on the benches waved or otherwise acknowledged him. He was the most recent addition to the council and was often the first one in his seat when meetings were called. Yemoja brought the meeting to order from her seat in the centre.

‘Good morning, villagers. Peace and good health to you. Today could be the first day of our freedom. Our love affair with the forest need not end, but our heads have been turned by the disappearance of the eyes in the sky. My child Ọtìn has volunteered to enter the city and return with news. She is young, but I believe her enthusiasm for this task is not unfounded. What are the opinions of my fellow councillors?’

‘With respect Yemoja, I must disagree.’ Oduduwa spoke first. ‘Ọtìn is a battering ram. Not suited for subtle tasks. This mission to Kétou could be our first contact with the city people for over one hundred years. We cannot ask Ọtìn to speak for us. It is too much for her. Besides, she does not know the forest well. You understand that, Yemoja, better than most.’ He spoke with one hand spread across his chest and the other clenched like he was holding a piece of rope. He lunged on certain words for emphasis. ‘Oshosi, on the other hand, is a different prospect. He is the best tracker in the village and knows pathways through the forest that would surprise perhaps even the birds in the air and snakes on the ground. He can be back from Kétou with accurate news before we even know he is gone. This is his moment.’

Yemoja took a look around. ‘Will anyone speak for Ọtìn?’

‘With respect to my mother and all present here, I feel I am able to speak for myself.’ Ọtìn was on her feet. ‘My twenty-sixth year is many months away and yet I have already been trusted with scouting missions throughout the forest and beyond it. And I have bested all but Oduduwa in hand-to-hand combat. He has never elected to step into the circle with me.’ She sat down but was not finished speaking. ‘I would also remind this gathering that I am so far the only person to put themselves forward.’

‘I now put myself forward.’ Oshosi spoke quickly. ‘After all, it was I who was keeping watch when the orbs first ceased their glowing. I accept my father's wish that I travel to Kétou on behalf of this precious group.’

‘Children, may an elder speak now?’ There was a chill to Lola’s voice, scratchy but still strong. ‘Ọtìn, you are indeed a young woman of distinction, but I must agree with Oduduwa. If it is true that the Efficient Ones are gone, then this a time for diplomacy. We are a community of barely one hundred souls. The city-dwellers are numerous as the grains of sand in the desert. If we provoke a storm, we will be consumed.’

‘Then perhaps Oshosi and I should travel together. I am stronger than my brother, but it is true that he knows the forest like a dear friend, both its pathways and the many uses of all its plants.’ Ọtìn was pleased with the effect this suggestion was having on Oduduwa. The man's eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head.

‘Oshosi, what do you say to this?’ Yemoja waved a hand to quiet the susurrus of whispering.

‘I cannot fault my sister's logic,’ Oshosi replied, placing a hand on his chest. ‘If the village is willing, I must agree.’

There were no dissenting voices. They had been taught all their lives to remain hidden. Only a handful of people took trips outside the forest and those trips were exceedingly rare. All present could sense that the life they had known was ending. They wanted to spend the last few days enjoying it with friends and loved ones, not taking a journey into who knew what.

The siblings traveled for a day and night with little rest, eventually coming to the edge of the forest. As ever, little conversation had passed between them, but even this became total silence as they neared Kétou. They turned off all devices as a precaution. It was now the early afternoon. The city limits had no markings or signs. Kétou seemed to spring up from the ground like something grown and not built.

Dead bodies lay everywhere in the city, yet it was alive with the sound of earth's indifference. Birds continued to chirp. Monkeys called out. Insects buzzed. All the autonomous services continued: buses and trams, vehicles of all sizes flitted around, ferrying dead bodies from place to place in an endless loop.

‘What could have happened here?’ Oshosi's question hung in the air without an answer.

They came to a large square with a fountain at its centre. The bodies here were all intricately dressed and radiating good health even as corpses. Evidently something about them repelled vermin. The bodies lay in awkward, sprawling positions, like they had fainted and never regained consciousness. Oshosi gave one a kick and Ọtìn sent him a sharp look.

‘With those implants in their brains, they were just more drones for the Efficient Ones, no matter how wonderful their lives were. They must all have just slumped to the ground when the ships left. Like someone pressed a switch.’ Oshosi felt no need to conceal his delight at this.

‘We don’t actually know that the Efficient Ones are gone, brother. We don’t know anything.’ Ọtìn said this quietly, visibly moved by all the death that surrounded them. Oshosi just felt a curiosity like hunger. To him it was like discovering a new forest.

‘They’re gone. I can feel it. Like the molecules in the air around us are vibrating differently or something. That said, sister, I must concede that you are correct. We do not know anything yet. We could never understand these people. Now perhaps all we can do is walk around in their cities and look at the files on their devices.’ Oshosi looked over at Ọtìn, annoyed to find her facing away and apparently not listening. He tapped the back of her head, startling her. ‘Come on, sister! Let us go and see how these people lived.’

After her initial shock, Ọtìn joined Oshosi in feeling free and a little giddy. For the first time in their lives they did not fear the open air. However, for Ọtìn the feeling did not last. The scale of the buildings unnerved her and she did not care for the solid, inorganic walkways beneath her feet. Each step reminded her that this was not the forest.

They came eventually to a neighbourhood where the buildings were smaller and closer together. They tried a door and found it open. The building was shaped like the letter ‘U’ and they now stood in the bend with both tails stretching out some way into the distance. There were four floors of apartments on either side, two or three to a floor. A large skylight threw intense light onto a swimming pool in which Ọtìn noticed a couple of dead bodies floating. They climbed a staircase to the first floor and Oshosi picked an apartment at random, finding another unlocked door.

Ọtìn saw it as soon as they walked in. Sat in a pot at the far end of the main living space was a Malula plant. She had never seen such a small one, but the shape of the leaves was unmistakable. Oshosi let out a little snort.

‘Look at that. A tree of truth. It has been many years since I last set eyes on one of these.’ Oshosi was well aware that Ọtìn disliked hearing the plant called by that name.

‘I guess these people had their own reasons for wanting to forget about things every once in a while,’ Ọtìn replied, keeping an even tone.

‘Oduduwa is going to be so pleased with me.’ Oshosi let out another little snort of laughter.

‘With you!’ Ọtìn sputtered. ‘I saw the plant first and this is my scouting mission, so I will be the one present it to him.’

‘Oh, come now, sister. It will mean more coming from me. We both know it. Accept facts. And I am sure you recall the council designating this a joint mission.’ They had both stopped ranging around the apartment and stood side by side in front of the Malula plant. ‘Now more than ever our community needs people who do not panic and run through the forest when faced with things they fail to understand.’ A wicked grin flashed across Oshosi's face. ‘Better yet, perhaps we need people who do not fail to understand in the first place. At last we can enter these cities and drink deeply from their wells of true knowledge, unencumbered by the base travails of mere survival.’ He stole a look over at Ọtìn who appeared to have every bulging muscle in her body tensed. ‘Yes, things are about to change, dear sister. I felt it instantly. As ever, you were a step behind. And what better symbol of that change than this little plant that stands before us, eh? I knew I was right about it. I never doubted myself for a moment.’

Oshosi lunged for the plant at the same time that Ọtìn brandished her hunting knife and plunged it into his side, holding her brother in a parody of a loving embrace. She stepped back and Oshosi fell to the ground, the knife still in his side. Ọtìn knew he would not trouble her any further. She knelt at his side and watched him die, unable to stop herself looking into his eyes. There was unmistakable glee in those burning, dilated pupils as the life left them, glee matched by a horrible lopsided smile.