Over The Horizon

Over the horizon, there’s the National Stadium, the NECOM House spire, the Eko Bridge, the Civic Centre, the Oriental Hotel, the Lekki Toll Plaza, a new KFC spot, and the Radisson Blu.

The cubes of ice in Alero’s cocktail glass are the only things staying cool in this Lagos heat. High above the chaos of honking cars and loud pedestrians, the Sky rooftop bar feels like a sanctuary, an escape for a few minutes from the hustle and bustle these friends are taking a much-needed break from. The live band's music is loud enough to drown out the city’s roar, but quiet enough for the three of them to dissect their lives.

“I’m telling you, the bar is in the pits,” Uju says, swirling her straw. “I matched with this guy on Tinder, one of those IJGB 'I Just Got Back' types, and tell me why he spends the whole first date explaining to me how blockchain works. Like, oga, I work in FinTech. It's not you that will tell me about the blockchain.”

Bisade laughs, a deep sound that shows off the neat gap between his front teeth. He leans back in his chair, adjusting his glasses. “At least he had a job. I went on a date last week with a girl who spent at least forty minutes telling me how she’s a ‘spiritual manifestations coach.’ I asked her what that pays in Naira, and she told me she doesn't believe in manmade currency.”

Alero isn't listening. She is looking out over the edge of the glass railing, her phone raised to capture the sunset. “The view tonight is actually insane,” she murmurs. “Look at this for goodness sake!”

She presses her finger to the center button, capturing the scene:

Over the horizon, there’s the National Stadium, the NECOM House spire, the Eko Bridge, the Civic Centre, the Oriental Hotel, the Lekki Toll Plaza, and the Radisson Blu.

“It’s iconic,” Bisade agrees, barely glancing up. “Anyway, Uju, did you see the new remote work policy that these politicians are now discussing? Let them not go and give my boss any silly ideas of trying to pull everyone back into the office o! In this economy? With fuel at this price?”

“Omo, na just to japa remain,” Uju says, only half-joking. “London is calling. At least there, when you pay for electricity, you actually see it.”

“London is gray,” Alero interrupts, still looking out. “And the food is sad. I’d rather be here. Like it or not, Nigeria has a vibe to it.” She squints suddenly, her brow furrowing for a micro-second before smoothing over into a practiced smile. “Wait, did they do some kind of urban renewal in Surulere?”

Over the horizon, there’s the NECOM House spire, the Eko Bridge, the Civic Centre, the Oriental Hotel, the Lekki Toll Plaza, and the Radisson Blu.

“Probably,” Bisade says, taking a sip of his drink. “The government is always ‘renewing’ something. Probably cleared the space for more luxury flats no one can afford. Na their way. Every new day, there's a construction site or a demolition site. No in-between.”

“I actually like the openness,” Uju remarks, looking toward where the stadium used to be. The massive concrete bowl is gone, replaced by a flat plot of red earth resembling one of those abandoned government projects that wait for decades for a foundation to be laid. “Anyway, Bisade, are you still seeing that girl from the gallery?”

“Nah,” Bisade sighs. “She’s too 'artistically temperamental.' She got mad because I didn't ‘experience’ her latest installation. It was quite literally a dark room with a single candle. I told her I could get that experience at home whenever NEPA decides to take their light.”

Uju chuckles, but her eyes drift to the horizon. She blinks.

Over the horizon, there’s the Eko Bridge, the Civic Centre, the Oriental Hotel, the Lekki Toll Plaza, and the Radisson Blu.

“The architecture in this city is changing so fast,” Uju says, her voice slightly higher than before. “I remember when the NECOM House used to be right there. The one with the lightning rod thing on top?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Alero says, not moving her gaze from her phone screen. She is editing a reel, her fingers flying over the glass. “I don't remember there ever being a building with any sort of lightning rod. You're probably thinking of a movie.”

“True,” Bisade adds. “I'd have definitely remembered seeing something like that. Oh wait, you guys, I forgot to mention: did you see the exchange rate this morning? I opened my banking app and almost fainted. I’m thinking of moving my savings to one of those dollar apps oh. Because the way the Naira is going, omo, it's like forex is the move oh.”

“Definitely,” Alero says. “The interest on those dollar investment apps are just better. Plus, keeping money in Naira right now is basically like bleeding yourself out financially.”

She pauses, looking out again. The long, winding spine of the Eko Bridge, which usually dazzles with the twinkling of taillights, is no longer visible. In its place is a vast, empty stretch of lagoon water, perfectly still.

Over the horizon, there’s the Civic Centre, the Oriental Hotel, the Lekki Toll Plaza, and the Radisson Blu.

“The water looks so peaceful tonight,” Bisade says, leaning his elbows on the railing, before scrunching up his nose. “I just hate that one can't really take in the serenity of this city with all these cars honking and almost blowing one's ears off.”

“Well, that's what happens when so many cars are forced to use these tiny roads. I've been saying for years, this city needs a proper bridge to connect the islands,” Uju says, staring directly at the empty lagoon where the bridge stood moments ago.

“Agreed,” Alero says, with a nod. “If the sound is this bad this high up, I can't even imagine walking down the street right now. I mean, if I wanted this much noise, I'd have gone down to the bus stop.”

Alero turns her camera again, trying to find a new angle. The distinctive, white twisted architecture of the Civic Centre is gone, the vast space now filled in by the evening sky.

Over the horizon, there’s the Oriental Hotel, the Lekki Toll Plaza, and the Radisson Blu.

“The sky is so big tonight,” Alero whispers. “I love how much room there is for the sunset. It’s giving... endless possibilities.”

“It’s beautiful,” Uju says, but with a flat voice, followed by a short, dry laugh. “Just... a very clear evening. Do you guys think the world is actually ending, or are we just tired?”

“We’re just tired,” Bisade says matter-of-factly. “Every generation thinks the world is ending. In the 60s it was the war, in the 80s it was the economy, now it’s what? The phones? We just adapt man! Humans are the most adaptable species on earth. We can get through anything.”

Over the horizon, there’s the Lekki Toll Plaza and the Radisson Blu.

“Exactly,” Alero says. “You can’t let all this this ‘world-ending’ crap get to you. You just have to focus on your own lane. Create your own community. Do your own thing. Listen, I’m just here for the vibes!” She stands up and begins shaking her hips, dancing to the music of the live band with two fingers in the air and rhythm in her shoulders.

After her friends hype her up for a bit, she takes a break from the dancing to take a selfie, posing with the disappearing world behind her. The Lekki Toll Plaza, usually a glowing gateway of lights is gone. The road to where it once stood now ends at the base of a cliff.

Over the horizon, there’s the Radisson Blu.

Alero settles back into her seat and the three friends sit in silence for a moment. The neighboring hotel, so close they could usually see the people on its balconies, is slowly fading into nothingness.

“It’s getting a bit chilly,” Bisade says, shivering slightly. “It's like the wind is somehow stronger now."

“I think I’m going to order another round,” Alero says, her eyes fixed on her phone, where the LTE sign now shows a No Service icon. She doesn't acknowledge it. “This place has the best mojitos in the city. Bar none! And this view? You guys, this is such a lovely night.”

She looks out. The Radisson is gone. There is nothing left but the black water of the Atlantic and the deep, hollow purple of the night. Their rooftop bar is a floating island in a sea of nothing.

"Thanks for bringing us out gurl. I love you guys so much," Uju says. Bisade holds his hand to his chest, and Alero pouts.

None of them look down at the floor, where the edges of their own building are beginning to turn into mist.

Over the horizon, there’s…