The story begins with their return from the peaceful lagoon experience to find wanted posters throughout Lagos featuring people with colorful hair. The tension builds when Aṣàkẹ́'s phone rings with a disturbing ringtone that sounds like "broken glass falling on concrete floor" - "krin-krin-krash, krin-krin-krash."

As specified in your prompt, an unknown voice delivers a direct threat, warning them to stop their sorrow-broadcast and dismantle their rooftop network or face severe consequences. The voice is mechanized and inhuman, speaking with perfect pronunciation of their Yoruba names and demonstrating detailed knowledge of their activities.

Throughout the conversation, thunder rumbles and builds - "grumble-grumble-BOOM" - joining and emphasizing the threats. The storm intensifies as the caller reveals they're speaking from Èkó Tower, the highest point in Lagos, where they can "see everything."

The chapter ends with a 48-hour ultimatum and Rírì's defiant response that they should take the fight directly to Èkó Tower. The thunder transforms from a threatening sound to a challenge, suggesting their connection with natural forces might give them power to confront this high-tech enemy.

The story follows their flight from the city after discovering they're on the police wanted list. They seek refuge at the waterside where Káyòdé's uncle Papa Emeka lends them a boat. As specified in your prompt, the boat engine makes "gbagba-gbagba" sounds as they navigate through the creek system into the mangroves.

Aṣàkẹ́ records the natural sounds of waves slapping against the wooden boat - "plap-splash-plap" - while Rírì prepares to play their sorrow mixtape. When she presses play, something magical happens: the music blends with the natural water sounds, and the lagoon itself begins to respond.

The chapter describes how the water starts glowing with phosphorescence where the music touches it, creating "tears of light" as the sorrow-anthem literally leaks into the lagoon. Fish gather around the glowing water, and the waves begin moving in rhythm with their bass line, showing nature accepting and transforming their musical resistance.

This experience teaches them that instead of fighting against the system, they might work with natural forces to create music that no government can control - sound that becomes part of the environment itself. The chapter ends with the realization that they've discovered a new form of resistance: collaboration between human emotion and the natural world.

The story shows Káyòdé's frustration when his drone controller displays only snow-static interference. As specified in your prompt, he curses in three languages - English ("Shit!"), Igbo ("Nna mehn, this thing don spoil finish!"), and what appears to be French ("Merde! Qu'est-ce qui se passe?") - showing his multilingual background and deep frustration.

Aṣàkẹ́ calms him by asking about his mother's lullaby, then sharing her own childhood memory of her mother singing during thunderstorms. This prompts Káyòdé to sing an Igbo lullaby ("Nwa m, nwa m, nọrọ ndo..."), which mysteriously begins to clear the static interference.

The chapter builds to the crucial suspense moment when the drone signal briefly clears, revealing a police station rooftop with a wanted board featuring photographs of resistance members. Rírì's teal hair makes her the "HIGH PRIORITY TARGET" at the center, with other familiar faces including Táíwò and even Aṣàkẹ́ herself listed as an "ASSOCIATE."

The signal cuts out just as they absorb this shocking intelligence, but they've learned two important things: they're being specifically hunted with their faces and identities known, but human emotion (like lullabies) can overcome technological jamming. This sets up the tension between high-tech surveillance and the power of human connection.

The story follows Aṣàkẹ́ as she carries a hidden recorder disguised among yams and plantains in her market basket. As specified in your prompt, the mosque bells ring "gba-gba-gba" and mysteriously sync with her device, creating an eerie harmony when the sorrow-sample begins playing mixed with the prayer call.

The narrative builds tension as people in the market begin responding to the hidden music, gathering around the sound and showing emotional reactions. The chapter introduces the mysterious masked figure whose most disturbing ability is following the exact rhythm of Aṣàkẹ́'s heartbeat - "thump-thump, thump-thump" - with glowing LED eyes that suggest either supernatural or technological surveillance.

The situation escalates when the sorrow-sample reaches its climax and somehow broadcasts Aṣàkẹ́'s heartbeat rhythm to the entire crowd, making them all move in sync with her fear. This creates a terrifying chase scene where she flees through the market while an entire crowd moves to the rhythm of her panic.

The chapter ends with the realization that their musical resistance has attracted something or someone with powers they don't understand - someone who can weaponize the very connections their music creates. This sets up questions about who this masked figure is and what they want with the resistance movement.

The story takes place in an abandoned mechanic workshop where Rírì connects the flash-drive to an old amplifier system. As specified in your prompt, the bassline makes "vroom-vroom" sounds like danfo exhaust, building from simple rumbles to complex conversations between different engine sounds that carry the weight of human suffering.

The narrative includes Aṣàkẹ́ telling listeners to "close your eye" as the music creates a visceral, almost supernatural experience where sorrow literally begins to leak from the speakers "like petrol" and forms shadow-shapes of people who have suffered. The music becomes so powerful it starts calling other sorrow from outside, uniting people in their shared pain.

The chapter builds to a dramatic climax where the bass reaches its peak intensity, but then suddenly cuts off when NEPA (the power company) kills the electricity. This creates suspense about whether the power cut was coincidental or deliberate surveillance, suggesting the authorities detected their illegal music session.

The story ends with the realization that once you've experienced this level of musical truth and collective sorrow, you can never return to enforced silence. The "bleeding sound" has permanently changed them, setting up anticipation for what consequences this awakening will bring.

The story reveals that the old clinic on Adeniran Street, once run by Dr. Adebayo who treated people for free, has become a secret repository for banned music. As specified in your prompt, the narrative includes the sensory details of iodine and wet cement smells, and the gate squeaking "like old cassette" when they enter.

Ìyábọ́ is revealed as the guardian of this musical archive, protecting recordings of banned songs including Rírì's first "sorrow-anthem" - the bass recording that made the government realize music could be a weapon of resistance. The chapter builds tension when Rírì successfully retrieves her first flash-drive from its hiding place in an old medicine bottle.

The suspense peaks when they hear a car arrive and people entering the building, forcing them to escape through the back door. Ìyábọ́ chooses to stay behind to continue protecting the archive, giving Rírì both her original recording and backup copies of the entire collection.

The chapter ends with the poignant image of the gate squeaking one final time as they escape, but now sounding like it's crying for the brave grandmother who sacrificed her safety to preserve their musical heritage. This sets up questions about what power lies within that first recording and what will happen to Ìyábọ́.

The story introduces Káyòdé as a tech expert from the University of Lagos who built a drone with a cracked camera lens. As specified in your prompt, the narrative includes the sound effects of propellers going "swish-swish" as they test it, and Aṣàkẹ́ teases that the drone looks like it's shedding "sorrow-tears" from its cracked eye.

The suspense builds when the drone flies over the main road and spots two black vans at a junction. The situation becomes dangerous when the authorities begin jamming their signal, causing the drone to wobble and nearly crash. Káyòdé manages to land it safely before they quickly flee across rooftops.

The chapter ends with the revelation that these aren't ordinary enforcement vehicles but advanced units with satellite dishes and men wearing special helmets - suggesting the authorities now have enhanced technology to detect their resistance network. This raises the stakes for their full moon plans while leaving listeners wondering what will happen next.

This chapter deepens the conspiracy, transforming Riri's individual acts of defiance into an organized, youth-led resistance movement. The story is driven by the narrator Ashake's discovery of her cousin's secret nightly activities.

Worried and suspicious, Ashake follows Riri one night as she sneaks out. The pursuit becomes a tense and thrilling journey across the rooftops of Lagos, a hidden world high above the sleeping city. Riri moves with practiced ease, jumping between buildings and balancing on narrow pipes, eventually leading Ashake to a secret meeting spot: the top of an old, rusted water tank on a warehouse roof.

Here, Ashake discovers a secret society of about ten other youths, all with brightly coloured hair, who have formed a resistance group. Their leader appears to be Taiwo, who has created a detailed chalk map of what he calls the "Rooftop Web"—a complex network of secret paths, routes, and safe houses that stretches across the city's rooftops, allowing them to move unseen by the government's "black-clad men."

Taiwo explains the true extent of the government's oppression. They are not just jamming signals; they are using advanced technology to control the very "vibrations" that can enter people's minds, suppressing any emotion that could lead to independent thought or unity. The group's mission is to reclaim their emotional freedom by using this Rooftop Web to play live "Sorrow Sound" in secret, coordinated sessions. Their music is their weapon, a way to process pain, heal, and connect with each other.

After taking an oath of secrecy, Ashake is accepted into the group. She learns of their plan to conduct a full-scale test of the Rooftop Web in three days, under the light of the full moon. The story ends with Ashake's perspective completely shifted; she now sees the city not as a collection of streets, but as a web of opportunities and a potential battlefield for their sonic rebellion. The "Rooftop Web" is complete, and the stage is set for their first major operation.

This chapter of the story, narrated by Ashake, delves into the origins of the "Sorrow Sound" ban and the rise of Riri as a symbol of defiance.

The narrative begins with a simple act of personal rebellion. Inspired by a foreign magazine, Riri decides to dye her hair. In a chaotic, home-brewed process involving bleach and a mysterious blue dye, she transforms her hair into a striking teal colour, reminiscent of "deep ocean water." The unique look earns her nicknames like "Lagoon Girl" and turns her into an unintentional icon of individuality in her community.

The story's atmosphere shifts dramatically following the mysterious flash of light in the sky from the previous instalment. Strange, black-clad men from a "Special Committee for Information Control" descend on the neighbourhood. They begin a systematic crackdown, confiscating radios capable of receiving foreign broadcasts and banning any music deemed to cause "public unrest." The community soon learns what this means when a boy playing gentle jazz has his trumpet seized. The new law is clear: only simplistic, happy music is permitted. Any melody that is deep, thoughtful, or melancholic—what becomes known as "Sorrow Sound"—is now illegal.

As a constant reminder of this control, the government broadcasts a strange, static-like noise from public speakers. In this oppressive environment, Riri's teal hair evolves from a fashion statement into a flag of silent protest, inspiring other youths to dye their hair in solidarity.

The turning point comes when Taiwo, a local electronics expert, reveals a critical piece of information. The government is using a powerful new signal jammer, but it has a weakness: it cannot block the sound of live, unamplified instruments. This explains why they are arresting street musicians. Riri realizes that while they can stop broadcasts, they cannot stop her from playing her bass guitar.

Armed with this knowledge, Riri's music gains a new sense of purpose and direction. The story ends with Ashake understanding that her sister's hair and her music are the beginnings of a real resistance, foreshadowing that the very technology meant to silence them might also hold the key to spreading their message further than ever before.

Set on a rainy April night in the Iju area of Lagos, the story centers on a young woman named Riri and a mysterious, unsettling event. The narrator, Ashake, describes the scene as her cousin, Riri, sits on their building's zinc rooftop, playing a bass guitar. The music she plays is deeply soulful and melancholic, a sound so profound it feels like it could make a stone cry.

As the rain begins to fall, a unique "call and response" develops between the deep, vibrating notes of Riri's bass and the rhythmic patter of the rain on the roof. The atmosphere is intimate and moody, set against the backdrop of a power outage that has enveloped the neighbourhood in darkness.

This quiet, personal moment is abruptly interrupted by a silent, intensely bright white light that flashes and hovers in the sky above them. It is not lightning, as there is no thunder, and its appearance is otherworldly. The light vanishes as quickly as it came, leaving behind a new, palpable tension in the air.

Startled and shaken, Riri stops playing. After a moment of shared shock with Ashake, she begins to play her bass again, but this time the melody is different—it's more urgent and questioning, as if she is trying to communicate with or call back the strange phenomenon. As her music intensifies, so does the rain.

The event draws other neighbours out onto their own rooftops, all looking to the sky for an explanation. Ashake briefly wonders if it could have been a drone, but dismisses the idea as unrealistic for their neighbourhood. The story ends on this note of unresolved mystery, leaving the characters and the audience suspended in a moment of wonder and quiet fear, questioning what they have just witnessed in the Lagos night sky.