Chapter 3: Your Eyes Have No Soul
Morning dawns in a busy Lusaka city. Citizens move about Central town earlier than usual, grabbing supplies on a rapid scale as if there's no tomorrow. From the panic of individuals filling their car trunks with excess goods, to street vendors trying to sell all they can as quickly as possible, the atmosphere is charged with unease.
"You've heard the news, haven't you?" says an old man to a young teenage boy observing the chaos.
"No," the boy replies, curious.
The old man only smiles as he begins to walk away. "Ensure you have all you need soon. The unpredictable is likely to happen."
"The unpredictable…" The boy's chest tightens with curiosity and tension. His messy hair is tangled in itself, his dark brown skin reflects the sun's heat, and his brown eyes linger on the old man.
"It's such a shame that you young ones don't watch the news anymore," the man mutters, before disappearing into the distance.
"The news? What's that old man talking about?" the boy wonders, looking around at the unusually crowded streets and roads.
HONK!
"WATCH OUT!" someone shouts.
"This is… wow," the boy whispers to himself.
---
Meanwhile, in Olympia town, Megan is completely absorbed by a television program. Mr. Banda sits nearby, scrolling through his phone.
"The war's really getting out of hand, huh? What to expect," he mutters to himself, his eyes drifting toward Megan.
"She's just a child, curious to want to know the world around her."
Outside, a bird flutters toward the window and bangs against the screen. Megan's attention snaps to it, and she stares for an oddly long moment before quickly returning her gaze to the television, glancing back only once or twice.
"And as so, she deserves to grow up much like any other child," Mr. Banda says quietly.
He immediately sets his phone aside and calls out to her.
"You're enjoying the program… aren't you, Megan?" he asks with a mischievous grin.
Megan looks at him plain and unreadable, almost glaring as though to say why did you disturb me?
"Of course," she responds. "I'm moved by the lovers' bond together, if anything."
"Incredible," Mr. Banda murmurs to himself. "Bond?" he asks.
"Yes, bond. The fact that despite all odds they died for each other."
"I see…" Mr. Banda nods. "Megan, it's time you started going to school."
"School?" Megan tilts her head.
"Yes, school," he repeats.
Megan takes another glance at the television screen. "What's school?" she asks.
---
Later, Mr. Banda helps Megan prepare, waiting for her to finish dressing up. She takes an oddly long time, and his patience begins to wear thin.
"What kind of person takes this amount of time simply to dress up?" he mutters, his face leaning against his palm as he sits on the bed.
"I'm done!" Megan calls out, stepping forward. Her uniform is neat, fitting her so well it seems to bring her joy. She bows and twirls around, thrilled.
Mr. Banda immediately notices. That gesture… it's the same one I saw in that television show she was watching earlier.
"You look amazing," he says.
"Thanks," she responds. "Being fabulous is my pleasant charm."
"What the—" Mr. Banda sighs. "Ugh, Megan… you haven't even combed your hair!"
"Ohhhh, I—" she panics.
"Sit down."
She obeys, taking a seat on the bed. Gently, he begins combing her tangled hair as she glares at her reflection in the mirror.
Mr. Banda strokes each strand with care, but his eyes linger on her expressionless reflection. She's got dead eyes, huh. One can barely see any emotion in them. It could give the wrong idea to certain people.
And yet—his thoughts drift into a flashback of a certain girl from his past, one with almost the same features as Megan. And yet… her.
"Father, do you think I'm beautiful?" Megan asks in a hushed tone.
Stunned, Mr. Banda replies, "Of course you… why do you ask?"
She recalls the television program from earlier, the magazines she's read, and the endless posts and pictures of women on Mr. Banda's social media platforms.
"I just… I don't know," she says softly. "I see people who look better than I am almost everywhere I look. And…"
"Megan…" Mr. Banda is stunned again. "Listen, regardless of what you probably think about yourself, you're not just beautiful—you're gorgeous. Appreciate that uniqueness, because you're unlike any other."
"Then why don't I see that color in my eyes? All I see is brown… no spark," she asks.
"Megan…" he whispers.
---
Later, Mr. Banda drives Megan off to her new school.
"Geez, whoever knew parenting was gonna be this hard… let alone raising a teenage AI," he mutters under his breath. "I really need to start controlling her influences… not forgetting I'm the one who programmed her to be this way."
The neighborhood is peaceful, the lane quiet, lined with beautiful homes. He pulls up at a small private school, and Megan's attention drifts completely out the window.
"Megan…" he calls.
"Father…" she replies.
"Time to go."
"Ohh, alright," Megan says.
Both step out of the vehicle, surprised to see only a few cars and fewer students making their way into the school's entrance.
"This place is usually packed with plenty of students… I wonder," Mr. Banda mutters.
"So this is the school?" Megan asks.
"Of course," he answers.
"Okay…" Megan beams. "I can't waitttt—ohhhh yeahhh!"
Mr. Banda is caught off guard. "What's gotten you so excited, if I may ask?"
"Ohhhh well… I watched this episode 12 of The High School Diaries. A girl's first day of school is likely to be filled with excitement."
"What kind of excitement?" he asks.
Megan keeps silent.
"Megan," Mr. Banda snaps, "don't you even think of—"
"Mr. Banda."
A calm female voice cuts through the air.
Mr. Banda turns his head toward it. "Ohhh, I see…"
---