Gears Of Ghana

In the year 2150, Accra hummed with neon life. Hoverbikes zipped through the air, their electric trails painting constellations against the night sky. The city’s heartbeat pulsed with a fusion of tradition and technology –a symphony of drumbeats and digital code.

In his booth at Central Market, Kwame tightened a screw on his prosthetic arm. His gears had been acting up ever since he got it transplanted. He adjusted the neutral interface, the synaptic connection humming with data. That should do the trick, he thought, finishing the final adjustments. The market buzzed around him –vendors hawking spices, traders negotiating quantum deals and children weaving through crowds like electrons. His booth was a stark contrast to the chaos around him. Kwame was known as the best mechanic in Accra, considering he was only 15 years old. Bits and pieces such as parts for androids, hovers, netscreens, portscreens lined the shelves like trophies and the worktable was cluttered with tools and hardware devices. Business had been slow these past couple weeks so all Kwame could do was fix parts for non-existent customers –just something to quench his boredom.

“Hello? Is anyone here?”, a voice cut through the noise. Kwame jolted straight up and faced the person who spoke.

Actually, it wasn’t a person. It was an alien in a business suit with lime green skin and very long fingers. A pair of glasses sat on his disfigured nose, only enlarging the two of his four eyes. Kwame scanned him with his right eye –the cybernetic one– and found out he was a Venusian. They were regular customers of Earth and often adapted to human culture.

“I’m here”, Kwame said.

The alien’s eyes –all four of them– blinked. “Um, excuse me, young man?”, he said, not bothering to hide the surprise in his voice, “I’m looking for Kwame Kojo…”

“You’re looking at him”

“Oh…Well, I thought I was meeting an older, more experienced professional, not a child playing coding and robotics”

Kwame rolled his eyes. Extraterrestrials –always nothing but rude.

“Look, sir”, he said, “I’m Kwame Kojo, the guy you’re looking for. Bring out what you want me to fix or meet on your way”

The alien blinked again, then brought out a high tech, clock-like device.

“You see, my distant cousin moved to Mars with his new wife and I wanted to get him something. I found this in a garage sale, very vintage. But I want it to show in light years, not”, they gestured disgustingly at the clock.

“Minutes and hours?”

“Exactly. Where can I pick it up?”

Kwame studied it for a few minutes. He would have to replace the chronometer with a biotech compactor so that it would make lightyears a time, instead of a distance unit which it really was. He had the parts somewhere, so with a little digging and a lot of work, the clock would be ready…

“Later today”, Kwame said, answering his question.

The alien eyes widened. “So, soon?”

“Yep”, Kwame assured him, “and I’ll do it for free. I like tinkering with this kind of technology”

“Well, okay, okay, okay!”, the Venusian clapped with delight, “I’ll see you then!”

They skipped out of the booth. Soon, Kwame got to work. He took apart the clock-like device and began to work on the chronometer. It took longer than expected since turning time into a distance was not an easy job. But he kept his promise, and the device was ready. So now, Kwame sat in his armchair, stretching his bionic fingers and toes, waiting for what other little treasures his potential customers might bring next.