It's now four months after the Island explosion, and professor Nwafor was about to host a science exhibition. The show quickly became an anticipated event mostly from researchers and medical practitioners from all over the country. They said the show was like a blueprint into the future – the dawn of a new age in science and medicine.
But Martin, with his father's unwillingness to approve of his participation, and his semester examination which was fast approaching, was reduced to just his marathon studies.
Late into the night, through his windows, you could see the candle sticks reducing to wax. The heat from the candle light, the hungry mosquitoes that hustled for a taste of his blood, and the epileptic nature of his country's electricity were some of the few challenges he faced while he studied.
But like they say, all fingers are not equal. Prrofessor Nwafor had his laboratory's electricity powered with expensive solar panels. Day and night, the professor spent hours working on the perfect prototype for the exhibition. But it was the science faculty, the NGOs, and many other science organizations that funded his work. This was after he had seduced them with talks about the numerous benefits the exhibition would provide. One can say that professor Nwafor had no financial difficulties, and for that reason, he was able to purchase the best of technologies.
He was on the verge of creating an achievement that he never knew he was going to achieve twenty years ago. Perhaps the biggest of them all was for his daughter to watch him on television, and for her to be inexorably proud.
Furthermore, the thrill of being the face on national television excited him. The fame he had craved for, the glory, and the possibility of breaking free from the shackles of past failures. There were no doubts in his mind that he was going to grab that opportunity with his two hands. Infact, he was ready to sweep the audience off their seats. Even more, the possibility of becoming the newest member of an elite team of legendary scientists – his name written in gold and resonates throughout history.
But a negative result would be the opposite of all that he dreamed of. Another failure would definitely loosen the nuts that held his mental state together. Not to forget the financial cost – perhaps his entire life savings. There were no other options for him than to succeed.
The days went by, and the school had a date fixed for the science exhibition. The school's calendar was usually separate for its first degree, and also separate for its graduate school activities. So, at that same time, the graduate students had just commenced a new semester, and they were expected to work on a thesis under a supervising teacher or more.
Chioma, a newly admitted graduate student, had two supervising teachers, and they must work together for her to be qualified for graduation. So, she went about searching for her supervising teachers' offices. Finally, she arrived at one of the offices. The nameplate that was hung on the door said, "Prof. Nwafor C. E". She gave the office door a gentle knock, and a voice bellowed.
"Yes, come on in."
Apprehensively, she turned the doorknob and opened the door.
"Good Morning Sir," she said and closed the door.
She endeavored to quell her feelings of fear, which was caused by the professor's hostile glare. Eerily, she approached the professor's table, and she handed over her file to him. There were strange writings on the professor's blackboard, but Chioma couldn't care more than her file that was under intense scrutiny by the professor. The professor repeatedly glanced through the papers, and then he paused for effect. Again he gave that hostile glare at Chioma, who felt her hands shuddering with fear.
"So you are a new intake?" Professor Nwafor asked.
"Yes," she replied. "I have read a lot of your articles; it will be a privilege to work with you Sir."
Once again, professor Nwafor paused for effect.
"Have you gone to see Mustafa in his office?" Nwafor asked.
"No," Chioma replied. "I intend to do that as soon as I'm clear here."
"It's a waste of your time," the professor growled.
Gently, he gave back the file to Chioma and quickly dismissed her. Chioma stood puzzled by professor Nwafor's nonchalant attitude towards her. She struggled to wrap her head around the statement he had made.
"Okay, Sir. What will I do now?" She asked politely.
"My name cannot be on a same paper alongside a crook. Mustafa is a crook." professor Nwafor replied. "You won't understand now, but I'm sure it's non of my business if you understand or not. Oh, before I forget, you are not going to change your supervising teachers. If you try that, I'm gonna personally hunt you down. I won't allow you to ruin my image in this university. I advise you go back home and quit the program as soon as possible. Start a life elsewhere; don't waste your time here; you are still very young."
Chioma knew she was in deep trouble. She knew she was the pawn in a game of two battling teachers. Or more like the grass that suffers when two elephants fight. What more can she do as a student without a voice?
A friend once told her: "In this academic system, teachers can easily abuse their position as leaders. They will torment innocent students yearning for better grades or academic approval. And the students can't speak because their rights will be stifled by a more corrupt system called the teachers' union. The union had Power, fame, and prestige, but utilized to shelter the pot-bellied headmasters and their hidden atrocities.
Chioma nagged bitterly in her mind when she remembered those words. On a second thought, she hasn't met Dr. Mustafa yet. Perhaps he will show a different attitude towards her. But then she remembered the university system, and how professors were ranked higher than doctors in all ramifications. Chioma knew she was probably at the end of her rope. She sat on the bus seat on her way home, and her thoughts felt heavy. She felt like darkness was about to encroach on her bright future.
"How can I overcome this?"
She wallowed deep into her worries, and she spent the rest of the day thinking of what to do next.
A few days later, the semester examination was done and dusted for the non-graduate students. It was time for the exhibition to take the center stage. The national television station NTV had the most cameras. Other cameras from the university's television stations were also there.
Few minutes before the time, professor Nwafor was inside his office preparing for the big event. He was finding it difficult choosing the proper blend of color for his bow tie. There were several colors to pick from, but his ex-wife Jeradin would often make the choices for him. He refused to let himself gush out emotions over his ex-wife, so he quickly made a wild guess. The color that fell on his laps was the blue color – his ex-wife's most hated color. He was pleased with the outcome because blue was actually his daughter's favourite colour.
"This is for you, my princess," he whispered. "I know it's been long I've seen you; probably all grown up at the moment, but I still love you, and you will be a part of my success today."
The professor placed his daughter's photograph on top of his table after he whispered those words. He took a sip from the coffee cup on his table, and he paced around the office – trying to rehearse his opening words. As he kept pacing, his eyes caught an old newspaper. He was surprised the paper was still lingering there in his office for months.
"This shouldn't be here," he whispered.
It was a newspaper he bought on his way back from Port Harcourt after the Island explosion. The newspaper with an explosive heading on its front page.
"Bukumbusa blast: hit or miss?" The words boldly written on the front page.
The newspaper carried that caption boldly written in Calibri font style. The writer was one of the best journalists in the country. Her writings were endearing to the people, and often a shining light on the activities of corrupt politicians. But here, her theory was just conspiracy, but the readers loved her writing.
First, she tackled the government for failing to repair the security cameras which had been ruined for years by thunderstorms. Then she claimed that the explosion was as a result of a test and miss scenario from the government to test run the 6g technology against the wishes of most of the populace. That was the reason for the question: "hit or miss?" To ask if the government had achieved their aim with the technology or not.
It was all happening quickly. Aside from the journalist's work, there were other rumors about the 6g technology, which were escalating quickly. They said the technology was being installed in the island at that moment when the explosion occurred. But weeks later, the story was slowly swept under the carpet by the government.
Brown envelope journalism had ensured that the dirty plans of the government to hide their failure had worked perfectly. A few journalists, however, had the guts to expose some hidden truths in their reports, but their stories were short-lived; it flickered and died like stars in a night sky
The military barricaded the Bukumbusa area; they prevented journalists from taking pictures. They tried so hard to bury the hatchet by re-planting trees and cultivating flowers. But the island's ghost seemed to have followed professor Nwafor unto his monumentous day. The pictures on the newspaper had brought back sharp memories of how a green and once peaceful island with trees and singing birds was brought to its knees on a single day. Professor Nwafor tore the newspaper with rage and threw it inside a trashcan.
"Who cares anyway," he whispered. "Now, I am going to make it all right. Now I've got outstanding technologies, strong devices to prevent an outburst of energy, an explosion preventer that will prevent all sorts of explosion. What else can stop my success this time? Today will be a good day. I can feel that."
A few minutes later, it was all set for the science exhibition to commence. Professor Nwafor welcomed the audience with a smile on his face.
"I welcome you all to the laboratory of infection biology under this great institution. As you all know, this program is the first of its kind on a live television broadcast, and we are proud of it. We urge you to sit back and enjoy the program, and don't forget to invite your friends."
Suddenly, he gave a sign, and his assistants gathered around him. They were dressed in white lab coats, and their teeth dazzled on the camera.
"Science have come a long way over the years," professor Nwafor said. "But as we all know, diseases still prevail over us until this day. Day by day, we see people get infected with viral infections, bacteria, fungal, and even some proteinous infectious diseases. People die every day because of these diseases. Some of us are fortunate to get the best treatment, but others are not so fortunate. Ladies and gentlemen, today, we present to you a cure of all infections; a source of health for the preservation of our lives."
Professor Nwafor poured the clumpy mysterious object in a graduated cylinder, and his assistants stationed around him and observed. Their coats properly ironed, and their protective hand gloves a sign of good scientific ethics.
Obi sat comfortably in his living room with a bottle of beer in his left hand, and a remote control in his right hand. As the show deepened, Obi reduced the television volume to prevent the noise from getting into Martin's room. Martin was in his room, and he was already busy with his books preparing ahead of the next semester. Furthermore, Obi's wife wasn't at home at that moment, so Obi was alone and relaxed, but he was also full of contempt for the science exhibition as he watched on the television.
If there was a chance for Obi to go back in time, he would retrieve those kind words he spoke to professor Nwafor when they met in Port Harcourt – at the hotel's elevator. Obi sat and waited patiently; waiting for the bad things to start happening again. He knew, somehow, that things were going to get ugly. His biggest desire was for his family to be kept safe from it when it will all fell apart.
Suddenly, a slight pit-a-pat was heard from outside the window. Obi stood up from the couch to see what was going on, and then he realized that Martin's window was unusually open. It was a habit for Martin to close the windows during the day, and to leave it open during the night – a weird fella this lad, isn't he?
Obi rushed into Martin's room and opened the door quickly, but Martin's books were all littered on the table, and Obi was not there.
"I think he jumped through the window," Obi said. "He won't be so far away."
So he picked up his car keys and drank the remaining liquid from the bottle of beer. He quickly drove into the street to pursue his runaway son. Martin, however, was already outside the school's laboratory – the venue of the exhibition. But unluckily for him, they weren't accepting late comers, so the doors and windows were all shut.
The security officer had denied him entrance through the one main entrance. The officer wasn't sure about Martin's claim that he was invited as one of the assistants.
"Please let me in," Martin pleaded, but he was constantly shoved aside by the tall, hefty security officer.
Martin wasn't fazed; he kept pleading.
"Please, I beg you. I was scheduled to be part of this program, but I was held up on the road by traffic."
His plea fell on deaf ears. So, he left the officer and waited in an empty classrooms. He was waiting for a chance to sneak in once there is a chance.
All of a sudden, a heavy round of applause resonated from inside the laboratory. People were clapping their hands and making so much noise that Martin had to approach the security officer once again.
"What is behind the noise?" He asked.
"It was a success," the officer replied. "The exhibition was a success."
"What is the exhibition all about?" Martin asked.
"I don't know," replied the officer.
The security officer felt curious by Martin's question; he opened the laboratory door to ask one of his colleagues.
"Hey, Sola, what's behind the exhibition?"
"It is cancer!" Sola replied. "There is a cure for cancer!"
Totally exhilarated, the officer closed the door. Then he turned his head towards Martin to give him the answer, but Martin was nowhere to be found. He was gone in a flash.
Fifteen minutes later, Obi arrived at the laboratory. The exhibition was over at that time. The participants were on their way back home. So Obi approached the security officer and asked about Martin.
"You mean that tall young man with those funny spectacles?"
"Yeah, sure, that's him," replied Obi.
"Well, I was talking to him some minutes ago, and he asked me for a favor which I did. And when I turned back to give him an answer, boom! He was no more there. Crazy lad; perhaps he ran away or something."
Obi drove back to his house. He knew his son was breaking the rules for the first time, but he was clearly unhappy.
However, the exhibition was a massive success. It became a popular story on social media; it trended for days and weeks, and then professor Nwafor became a popular name around the world.
Some said: "after many years of black suppression, a black man have found the cure for cancer."
However, some white supremacists would say: "a white man played a major role."