by Dan Haronian
"My father?" she said and smiled bitterly. "I haven't spoken to him since the day I left Mampas. I don't even know if he's still alive."
Daio let out a heavy sigh.
"Did you come here to ask her to speak to the rebels?" asked Sosi.
"I don't know what else to do. I thought it was worth a try."
"I can try to contact them, but I'm afraid it will do more damage than good. I'm still considered a traitor there."
Daio looked at her silently.
"So what now?" asked Sosi.
Daio turned to him. "Naan is going to meet with this rebel. I guess we will have to wait and see."
"Naan will meet with Sonny?" said Sosi gravely. "I guess we should give it a chance. I'm sure Naan will like this guy eventually."
He arrived late and climbed into a taxi that waited for him at the airport. "Hotel Butu," he said. He leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. He wasn’t fully acclimated to the change in gravity and he felt some dizziness. He caught the driver staring at him in the mirror, but he didn’t care. He didn’t know his expensive suit only fit with the Hotel Butu in an indecent context.
When he opened his eyes a few moments later the city lights on the horizon to his left stirred his emotions. A longing for quiet days suddenly flooded through him. He was returning to Mampas to the city he loved so much, but now he was a broken man. All of his power and influence were gone. The embassy was closed down and even his house and fancy, shielded car had been confiscated.
The taxi followed the belt Road. He kept expecting the driver to turn left onto one of the main thoroughfares that led deep into the city. With every crossroad they passed he started to suspect more strongly that the driver hadn’t heard him well. It was also possible that he hadn’t understood the Desertian woman who’d called him while still on the shuttle regarding his accommodations. He tried to think of other hotels with similar names but nothing came to mind. Eventually he decided that he was being silly. He certainly didn’t know the name of every hotel in Mampas.
His fears returned when he gazed into the dark desert off to his right. An odd thought occurred to him. Could this is where he was heading? Was Hotel Butu a code name for the vast desert of Mampas? Was that where Sonny the rebel was taking him? Relief flooded through him when the taxi finally turned left towards the city. He was surprised however when turned into one of the streets and stopped.
"You probably have the wrong address," he said looking out at the dark street.
"No sir, this is Hotel Butu," said the driver.
Naan got out unwillingly and looked at the pathetic four-story building. He thought of the woman with a heavy accent who’d spoken to him on the phone. She’d explained that the embassy and all of the embassy's employees homes were sealed by the police until the investigation was complete and insisted that she was going to take good care of him. Imbecile, he thought. Thesh was going make them full citizens. That meant imbeciles like her would soon flood the government offices, which would dry them up like the desert.
He sighed when he noticed the peeling paint on the windows frames. The taxi left, and he considered looking for another one and driving into the center of the city. There were countless respectable hotels there. Then he stopped to consider his situation. Maybe there was no mistake. Maybe this Sonny was testing him. Maybe he wanted to see how important convenience was to him in these hard days. Perhaps he was expected to be like them, humble and abstemious.
Reluctantly he walked towards the entrance. In the dark hotel lobby, beyond the counter to his left, stood a half-asleep clerk. Naan walked over to him. The clerk only felt his presence when he finally stood directly in front of him. He raised his head a bit and looked at Naan with dull eyes.
"Naan Plaser. I understand you have a room under my name."
The clerk’s eyes opened wide as if he just heard a secret code name he had been waiting for the whole day to hear. "Naan Plaser, Naan Plaser, yes sir," he said confused and pounded the buzzer on the counter until the door behind him open an old man rushed out. "Naan Plaser," said the clerk again.
"Welcome sir! The ambassador of Naan!" said the old man. "It's a great honor for us to have you as a guest in our hotel," he said delighted.
Naan looked around him. He felt uncomfortable that his name and title echoed hollowly in the vast empty space. "I’d like to go to my room now. I am very tired," he said almost whispering.
"Of course, the best room in the hotel," said the old man cheerfully. He tapped the clerk on the shoulder and he laid an ID plate on the counter in front of Naan.
Naan placed his hand on the identifier.
"Room 222," said the clerk in a fawning tone.
"Will you be staying with us long?" asked the old man.
"Just for the night," said Naan quickly. He gave them a quick smile and rushed to the elevators.
The best room in the hotel didn't surprise him. The fading paint on the walls was peeled in a few places. The furniture reminded him of the old and seedy houses in Naan. He was glad the hour was late. Once he was asleep the night would pass quickly. In morning he would finally meet this Sonny, and work things out.
But the night didn't pass quickly. Soon after he laid his head on the pillow he remembered that this cursed stutterer had broken into his embassy and used the terminal there to kick off all of the madness that had led to the end of his power in Mampas. Naan began to wonder if that was merely misfortune or if this bastard had chosen his embassy for a reason. But that made no sense. This Sonny didn’t even know him. His thoughts tormented him and he tossed and turned on the squeaking bedsprings. The sound made him think of Sonny’s stuttering, which he had never heard. The best room in the hotel, he thought and saw the face of the old man in his mind. After a few attempts he noticed that the squeaking was less when he lay on his left side close to the edge of the bed, but still he could not rest.
He finally fell asleep just before dawn and woke in a panic. It was late. He jumped from the bed and frantically washed his face, dressed, took the stairs to the lobby.
"Sir? Mr. Ambassador," he heard a woman's voice behind him just as he was about to exit the hotel.
Behind the counter stood the woman with dark hair and heavy makeup smiling at him. She was waving a pad above her head. "Sir?" she called again when she noticed he was hesitating.
Naan walked towards her with an angry face. He ignored the people that who stared at him, and took the pad from her hand.
Sonny is sorry to let you know that the meeting is postponed to midnight tonight in the ministry of defense chamber, floor 195, of the government building. We hope you have a pleasant stay.
"When did this arrive?"
"Just now," she said.
Naan shook his head and feelings of insulted anger filled him. He slammed the pad down on the counter with a bang and left the hotel. He clenched his fist and gave in to his anger by punching the stone fence surrounding the hotel’s scruffy garden. The pain in his hand only fanned the flames of the thoughts running through his head. He was sure the change wasn’t accidental. He had no doubts that this spiteful rebel was trying to humiliate him. Choosing this hotel had not been a mistake either. It was a deliberate insult.
Naan took several deep breaths and started walking. The meeting that was had been scheduled to take place in Thesh's office would now be in Itgass’s office, Itgass the fool. That man couldn't do one thing right. Had Sonny chosen his office because it was available or was there some other reason? These thoughts and others chased him for long minutes as he walked through the streets. Finally he raised his hand and flagged down at a passing taxi.
"To the government campus," he said after sliding into the backseat. The taxi quickly took off.
He felt his stomach twist when the taxi stopped at the stairs that led to the campus. He got out and climbed the stairs, stopping to look out over the park. The embassy building was far to his left. The place that was once his home seemed distant and estranged. He looked at the main g
overnment building to his right, with a sense of missed opportunity. He traced its ascent up and up until the building disappeared into the sky. Where are you now Thesh? he wondered. Who are your friends now? He thought of going up to Thesh's office and venting all the anger built up over the last few weeks, but he knew it wouldn’t be wise to do it now. Right now he needed to fight back. That meant he needed to meet with this damn rebel and figure out how his mind worked. He turned around and took the stairs back down to the street. He walked into one of the bars he used to frequent. The man behind the counter recognized him as he approached the counter.
"The usual?" he asked in his light Desertian accent.
This simple question gave Naan some comfort. It made him feel as if things would eventually get back to normal.
"The usual," he said and returned the faint smile.
"I’ll give you a little extra today," said the man.
"Thank you," said Naan and with great skill climbed the tall stool in front of the counter. "I understand you're back in business."
"Yes. Yesterday everyone came back,” said the bartender.
"That is definitely a reason for celebration," said Naan trying to be polite.
"Oh yeah, but its more than that," said the man. "The war is over. The damn war is over!"
"Well, not that it was really a war. Seragon never even came close."
"I'm not talking about Seragon," said the bartender and smiled. "There are no more rebels. Everyone is the same now. Everyone is a Mampasian."
"Oh yes, of course," said Naan. He forced a smile. He wondered that the man could be so naïve. How could he think that things would ever be the same? Apparently Sonny’s scam had worked. This rebel had captured Thesh with his tricks, and now he and his friends had conquered Mampas. Naan gritted his teeth. It was a disaster. It meant that his own planet would no longer be important to Mampas. Suddenly his concern about the meeting with Sonny increased.
Naan spent most of the day in the city he knew so well. He checked the news in one of the information centers, and ate lunch in one of the restaurants he used to visit regularly. The celebratory atmosphere that was everywhere only increased his sense of alienation.
He went back to the hotel in the evening to rest and freshen up, and came back to the government campus just before midnight. He felt uncomfortable as he gazed at the park off to his left. The park used to have tall lights and long passages but now it was completely dark. He felt somewhat better as he walked towards the guards at the entrance to the building. The bad feeling returned though when one of them greeted him in a heavy Desertian accent. The mindless are now guarding the building, he thought.
The elevator took him to the 195th floor. He stepped out of the elevator and passed along the dimly lit corridor. At the entrance to the Ministry of Defense chamber he placed his palm on the reader and waited for it to register his DNA.
"Welcome Naan," came the voice from the speaker and the door opened.
The chamber was dark. He felt as if he was walking into a torch lit cave.
"Hello?" he called.
"Co-Co-Come in please," came a faint voice from the minister’s office, "I-I-I’m in here." It sounded as if it was coming from a closet.
He noticed a faint light coming from the minister’s door and walked towards it.
"Hello Na-Na-Naan, I'm So-So-Sonny," said the figure behind the desk as he walked into the room.
"H-h-hello," said Naan. The tableau stunned him. He sat in a low chair behind the desk. His face was completely bandaged except for his eyes and nose.
"So you are Na-Na-Naan," said Raban.
Naan didn't answer. The man behind the desk looked like a corpse who had escaped from one of the processions to the White Plains during the time of the plague. That had been before his time but he’d seen the footage in school.
"Sit down," said Raban after a few seconds of silence.
A tall chair was in front of desk and Naan walked towards it hesitantly. He awkwardly pulled himself up into the seat. He was now much higher than the man across from him. It made him uncomfortable, as if he was sitting naked in front of a tribunal.
"How was your f-f-flight?" asked Raban.
"Fine sir," said Naan.
"Still fe-fe-feeling heavy?"
"No I'm fine. I'm used to the transition by now."
"So what do you thi-thi-think about the changes in Ma-Ma-Mampas?"
"Changes?"
"Yes."
"I… I hope they will succeed."
"Why wo-wo-wouldn't they? Do you think we De-De-Desertians are not as good as other people?"
"No, of course not," said Naan. "I just think that even good changes should be made only after careful thought. You know, even a medicine can cause sometimes a… nausea."
"Yes no doubt, but so-so-sometimes there is simply no other ch-ch-choice. Sometimes reality dictates everything. For example, the information scrambling from your e-e-embassy. Without that event the Se-Se-Seragonians would not have reacted as they did and none of these cha-cha-changes would have been po-po-possible."
Naan's heart beat faster. What was he expected to say? It had been this rebel who had committed the crime in his embassy. He was the one who had scrambled information. Naan was sure of that.
"I don't know what happened in the embassy," he finally said. "Thesh knows that we, the government of Naan, had nothing to do with it. It would have been insane for us to initiate such events. Anything that hurts Mampas damages us as well."
"Yes, of course. But you must know that the in-in-information scrambling was at the root of e-e-everything. Se-Se-Seragon says this was not just another s-s-scrambling event. Th-The-They haven't seen one like this in thi-thi-thirty years. They think it originated from Naan. Apparently they k-k-know something about Naan that we don't. They say you ha-ha-have the worst s-s-scramblers in the g-g-galaxy. Can you imagine? Your little ba-ba-backward world the nexus of information scrambling? I never knew."
"Sir, this was not done by someone from Naan, I assure you."
The whole discussion was making no sense. Naan kept having to defend himself to the man who was behind the whole thing in the first place.
"How can you p-p-promise so-so-something like that?"
"I know that someone broke into the embassy. One of my employees discovered him," said Naan and swallowed.
"Yes, I know. The old man reported that it was a man who s-s-s-stuttered and had s-s-scars on his face," said Raban.
Naan looked at him surprised by his answer. This was becoming ridiculous. Was this Sonny trying to goad him into an accusation?
"Do you believe that?"
Naan didn't say anything.
"Well, do-do-do you?"
"No, of course not," blurted Naan.
"Have you ever be-be-been under attack by Ma-Ma-Mampas? Have you ever felt your d-d-death within you?"
Naan shook his head.
"I promise you it is a te-te-terrible thing. It can b-b-break a person. One can lo-lo-lose his voice, or even begin to s-s-stutter. Did you see it even once? The rays co-co-co-coming down from the sky? Have you see it me-me-melting the sand? If it doesn’t kill you outright the s-s-scars such an attack le-le-leaves on your body are a s-s-s-small price to pay and so is the d-d-damage to your vi-vi-vision." He looked up. "That is the reason the light in here so is di-di-dim. The doctor said that if I was e-e-exposed to anything stronger I would completely lose my vi-vi-vision."
"Yes, of course," mumbled Naan.
"If you go out into the desert you will find do-do-dozens of people like me."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to accuse you of anything."
"That's okay, you are si-si-simply ignorant. Your k-k-knowledge is very limited outside of your own re-re-reality."
Naan shifted uncomfortably on his chair. There had been very few survivors of the attacks but Sonny was right, he didn't know if they’d lost their voice or vision.
"Thesh be-be-believes you pe-pe-personally had no-no-nothing to do with w
hat happened. He thi-thi-thinks someone tricked you."
"That is what I've been saying the whole time, sir."
"I'm not co-co-convinced. There were no signs of a b-b-break in at the e-e-embassy. I am just a simple De-De-Desertian, and I don't know much about information s-s-scrambling, but Thesh's e-e-experts couldn’t find any e-e-evidence of a fo-fo-forced entry."
"That only proves that whoever did it is an expert."
"An e-e-expert like those of Na-Na-Naan?"
"There are skilled people like that in Naan, but none of the people I know fits the rest of the facts. I also considered the possibility that someone with a similar genetic signature broke into the embassy."
"Your genetic si-si-signature is based on your fa-fa-father's genes."
"Yes. His genes are pure Seragonian, so I thought maybe someone from Naan came here without my knowledge."
"And did you find someone?"
Naan shook his head. "The only people that fit those criteria are my father and my siblings, or Dug and his children. Of course there is also Sosi, but he's too old and I don't think he would be able to do anything like this."
"That's it? Th-Th-That is the wh-wh-whole list of suspects?"
Naan raised his eyebrows. "Of course Raban would've been most suitable candidate. He was a vicious scrambler, but as you know he's dead."
"Yes, of c-c-course."
"Su-Thor is his mother. I assume you know of her?" asked Naan in a hopeful tone.
"Of course. E-e-everybody knows her. She is a t-t-traitor."
"A traitor?"
"Yes. She escaped with Sosi after he scrambled information years ago in Seragon and framed us for it."
"Of course," said Naan disappointed.
"It ha-ha-happened be-be-before I was born, but in the desert we re-re-remember our history and try to learn from it be-be-because just like now it sometimes repeats itself."
Naan shifted again on the chair.
"Why do you not su-su-suspect Sosi?" asked Raban suddenly.
"Sosi?" wondered Naan. "I guess he could have done it but why? What would be his motive? What would he have to gain from this?"