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Prologue ONE PERFECT MORNING, WITH JACKALS Mike Resnick {APRIL 19, 2123} Ngai is the creator of all things. He made the lion and the elephant, the vast savannah and the towering mountains, the Kikuyu and the Maasai and the Wakamba. Thus, it was only reasonable for my father's father and his father's father to believe that Ngai was all-powerful. Then the Europeans came, and they killed all the animals, and they covered the savannahs with their factories and the mountains with their cities, and they assimilated the Maasai and the Wakamba, and one day all that was left of what Ngai had created was the Kikuyu. And it was among the Kikuyu that Ngai waged His final battle against the god of the Europeans. * * * My former son lowered his head as he stepped into my hut. "Jambo, my father," he said, looking somewhat uncomfortable, as usual, in the close confines of the rounded walls. "Jambo, Edward," I replied. He stood before me, not quite knowing what to do with his hands. Finally he placed them in the pockets of his elegantly tailored silk suit. "I have come to drive you to the spaceport," he said at last. I nodded, and slowly got to my feet. "It is time." "Where is your luggage?" he asked. "I am wearing it," I said, indicating my dull red kikoi. "You're not taking anything else?" he said, surprised. "There is nothing else I care to take," I replied. He paused and shifted his weight uncomfortably, as he always seemed to do in my presence. "Shall we go outside?" he suggested at last, walking to the door of my hut. "It's very hot in here, and the flies are murderous." "You must learn to ignore them." "I do not have to ignore them," he replied, almost defensively. "There |
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