“I'd like to welcome you all here,” says Elienai. “I imagine this was rather inconvenient for you all, but you came. Thank you.”

Now that I can see everyone at the table, I'm struck by the oddness of the committee selection. We're seven in number, eight counting Elienai. And aside from Elienai, Seni and Karama Obomanu, there's no one here who has any history with the government. And I only know Karama by reputation. It was he who suggested selling our floodwater to the northern regions during their drought. A Machiavellian in every sense of the word.

“The Southwest Government called you all because a problem has arisen and a decision needs to be made today. I apologise for not briefing any of you earlier but maximum discretion was necessary.” Elienai pauses to be sure that she has her audience, and then continues.

“As we all know, Lagos is horrendously overpopulated. The last census recorded sixty six million people. There are more people living in central Lagos than in the rest of the Southwest region combined. Now the government has tried to cater to the glaring need for space by creating artificial islands but it has failed in this venture. And unfortunately, circumstances beyond our control have forced us into looking for an immediate solution,” she says.

“In 2028, my father had a vision. He saw the path humanity was taking and he knew what the destination was. We were increasing in size without regard for nature, our host. If we continued down this road, we would soon cease to exist. My father was determined not to let that happen, so he started writing down a plan. And a decade later, he put to paper a completely revolutionary idea.

But my father was years ahead of his time. So it fell to me. It took me twenty years and a lot of covert government funding. But I fulfilled my father's dream. Fully funded and approved by both Federal and Southwest governments, I present to you, the Ruination Driver.”

With a flourish, Elienai taps the boardroom table and instantly a holographic display came up. And I see it, the Ruination Driver. It's a small, blue cubical thing. It could fit in a clutch.

Elienai continues, “I won't delve into the scientific details but the Ruination Driver is fully capable of transmuting the human body into a mixture of ash and air. In layman terms, absolute vaporisation.”

On the table, a simulation shows the Ruination Driver in action. First, there was a light, then a spreading mass of black appeared, increasing in size every second until it filled the table.

“A single driver can, in theory, completely desolate 2 Abeokuta's.”

There's a murmur of incredulity along the table as Elienai ends the simulation.

“This is our solution. A cull.”

There's complete silence for about a minute as each one of us carefully assessed the information we'd received.

“So you're saying,” I confirm, “that the solution to our population problem is a cull. To use this thing on Lagos State.” I pause just so everyone can hear the incredulity in my words.

“Just how many millions will die?” I eventually ask.

Elienai sighs.

“We're looking at forty million, give or take.”

“You want to kill forty million people? Forty million human beings?” Seni says, the feathers in his voice box masking his indignation.

“I’m truly sorry about this but circumstances have forced our hand. If Lagos is left to its own devices, we risk a reactionary disaster that will leave a lot more than forty million people dead. And there will be a lot less to salvage than after the Great Woe. Hence the driver and this meeting. Because there's only one way to quickly and effectively reduce our population,” Elienai argues.

“Very well then,” I hear Karama say. “But why are we here? What do you want us to do?”

Elienai raises her right hand, signalling for everyone’s attention before answering.

“It's simple. The aim is not to completely obliterate the state. Therefore, the driver must be placed somewhere, an area where it will deliver maximum damage. We've narrowed it down to two options. You are here to decide which region will be targeted. The Mainland or the Islands?”

The committee completely breaks down. A stranger would likely think there are a few hundred people here rather than just eight. Everyone is shouting and being shouted at.

“That is impossible!” I hear a man scream.

“Better get used to it!” Agbada bellows.

"Are you stupid? How will this not solve all our problems?" Another one yells.

“Silence!”

Instantly the room quiets down. The only person left standing is Elienai and she does not look pleased at all.

“I am well aware that there will be reservations and opinions. However, we cannot give way to disorder. Now is there anyone who'd like to say something?”

Someone raises his hand. He's wearing a normal English suit and his smell reminds me of charcoal for reasons I can't quite understand.

“Thank you, Miss Okike,” he says. “Now I'll keep this short and simple. The Mainland should be targeted.”

There’s furious whispering from across the table and Charcoal has to hit the table to restore calm.

“Friends,” he says. “Listen to me. The Mainland is bigger, so more people live there. In addition, the general wealth of the Mainland pales in comparison to the Islands. Do you really want to take away the economic mainstays of the state?” He retires to a few scattered rounds of applause and dissenting murmurs. I raise my hand and Elienai motions for me to speak.

“I just want to clarify that this driver is not a bomb, so infrastructural damage will be minimal?” I ask.

She winces visibly.

“Unfortunately, we haven't been able to physically test it at all so we're still running with a prototype. Therefore, I think infrastructural damage should be expected and taken into account. Potentially thirty to forty percent.”

Karama raises his hand.

“Thank you, Miss Okike,” he starts. “I believe the Islands should be targeted. First of all, they’re more environmentally compromised than the Mainland. This is a known fact. Also, Miss Okike has given us an estimate of infrastructural damage. If the Mainland is targeted, we risk losing a lot more than a few skyscrapers that won't be missed. We could suffer damage to airports, seaports, bridges that link to the islands. We simply cannot risk it.”

He points to Charcoal, “My friend here would have us believe that the population on the Mainland far exceeds the Islands. The last recorded census will beg to differ. As at January this year, the difference between both regions was a mere six million. That's negligible at best.” Karama retires to scattered applause as well.

More hands shoot up but Elienai waves them off.

“Okay, we've heard from both sides. Now we'll take a break for fifteen minutes then return for voting. Feel free to discuss the matter at hand among yourselves. You're dismissed.”

Everyone streams out of the meeting room, leaving just me and Elienai. I smile at her and rise to leave but she calls me.

“Ene, could you wait a bit? I need to talk to you.” She grabs a chair and scoots over with a smile.

“How are you holding up?” She asks.

“I’ve been worse,” I reply. “Of course that also means that I’ve been better.”

“Yeah, the feeling is mutual.”

“I didn’t know about your father.” I say haltingly.

“Of course you didn’t. I never brought him up.”

“Why?” The question escapes my lips before I realise it and I fumble an apology.

“It’s alright, Ene. No offense taken.” She smiles.

“It’s just that he clearly influenced your life’s direction so I’m surprised you never brought him up.”

“My father wasn’t one to talk about people, or to be talked about. He was like a thought, you know. He existed in mental space, a bit like you. He was married once. She died not too long after I was born. They were really in love. When she died, he threw himself into his research, as if he was looking to find her there. He was laughed out of every scientific circle, dismissed as a conspiracy theorist. And he soon faded away, left this world and me, to be with his wife.”

Elienai sighs and stares at me sadly.

“I first picked up his research because I wanted to know who he was. I was what— twenty with no sense of direction? I wanted to know who this man I called my father was, and why he left me behind. And along my journey of discovery, I met you and I began to understand my father’s passion for change. I figured that if I finished his work for him, then maybe I would understand what drove him, maybe I would be his kid and not some stranger.”

“And now that you’ve finished it, how do you feel?” I ask.

There’s a notable silence. She’s trying to say something but seems unsure of how to put it.

“Do you think I'm a monster?” She finally asks.

That’s quite the question. She is considering how best to kill off forty million human beings, after all.

“Without doubt,” I reply. “But then, we all become monsters at some point. It’s part of the job. I’m a monster for being a part of this committee. But why do you have to make this choice?”

There’s a deep pain in her eyes.

“I was a part of the UN for twelve years. I was a leading member of the division heading global environmental balance. Do you want to know why I left when I did?”

I nod.

“It’s because Arnthor Agnarsson is insane. He’s an extreme environmentalist. The UN maintains population figures by analysing major cities and drawing out an upper limit for the governments to follow. Those who fail to adhere, receive a red notice. If certain corrections aren't made in a year, the UN intervenes. I'm talking about gene therapy to increase sterility and decrease immunity. I'm talking about engineered natural disasters. Just look at cities like Tokyo and New Delhi. Didn't you ever wonder how they suddenly underwent a drastic drop in their figures?”

She's trying hard not to cry. Too hard.

“Next week, it will be a year since they served Lagos notice. We tried, Ene. I swear we tried.” She breaks down into quivering sobs, bracing herself as tears fall down her face.

I embrace her.

“Do you know how much I resent picking those guys?” She sniffles. “Once I mentioned potential infrastructural damage, they started paying attention. All of a sudden, someone must sacrifice something for the greater good. Because properties and interests are at stake, not the forty million that need to die to keep the UN away.”

“It's okay, Hermit,” I say. “It's okay.”

We remain embraced until the break is over.