by Tariq Saleim
“My name is Sixteen.DX, also known as Dex. I am an undercover agent. Your brother tried to kill me this morning.”
“You murdered my brother,” Spike yelled. He got up from the chair and tried to grab Dex’s throat, while still handcuffed. Dex punched him in the middle of his chest, just above the diaphragm. One punch was enough to choke Spike. He could not breathe and sank to his knees. Dex pulled him up by his collar, and placed him back on the chair.
“Take it easy, boy,” warned Dex.
Spike was struggling to breathe. He looked at Dex and tried to reply, but his lungs were not yet fully operational.
“Your brother tried to kill me and I responded. I did not plan on murdering him,” said Dex.
“Why did you shoot him in his head?”
“It happened. I did not do it on purpose.”
“Bullshit.”
Dex took out his firearm from his belt holster and shoved it into Spike’s mouth. “If you do not show respect, I will shut you up,” he threatened.
Spike watched the gun in horror. A gun in his mouth, being held by his brother’s murderer, in an interrogation room in a Militia office—all of this was enough to command obedience. Momentarily, he needed to forget about Ken and analyze his own situation. It was utterly dismal and he needed to calm down.
Spike moved his head up and down to convey his consent to behave. Dex removed the barrel from Spike’s mouth, cleaned the saliva on Spike’s shirt, and then holstered the firearm.
“I will ask you some questions. If you answer truthfully, we will let you go,” said Dex.
Spike was silent.
“You are being watched and your body is being scanned by sensors installed all over the room. There is an officer sitting in the next room”—Dex pointed to the right wall—“watching your body’s chemical changes as you answer my questions. He will be able to tell, with reasonable accuracy, if you are lying to us.”
Spike nodded.
“Lying under interrogation and attempting to influence the outcome of a pending investigation are crimes punishable by imprisonment for up to eleven years. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” Spike mumbled.
“Louder,” shouted Dex.
“Yes!”
“OK, let’s start. Are you the brother of Nine.KN, otherwise known as Ken?”
“Yes.”
“We know he called you before he fired at me. What did he say?”
“He said he loved me.”
“What else?”
“Nothing.”
A small receiver chip in Dex’s right ear conveyed to him his colleague’s message: Spike was telling the truth.
“When and where did you last meet your brother?”
“In a café in downtown, a few weeks ago.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he was being followed.”
“And?”
“That system was corrupted.”
“Anything else?”
“He said he had evidence of corruption.”
“What did you say?”
“I did not want to hear about it. I told him he was a lunatic. I told him to shut up.”
Why did I tell him to shut up? Ken was right. He was being followed. He was being threatened. Why did I not listen to him? Why did I not see the evidence?
“Did he tell you where that evidence was?” Dex asked.
“No.”
“Why did you not listen to Ken?”
“I thought he had lost his mind. He was always drunk and stoned. He was jobless and stressed. I thought there was no reason to believe him.”
“What type of evidence was there?”
“I am not sure. Some surveillance footage, I think.”
“Who is on those recordings?”
“I do not know.”
“Where is this surveillance footage?”
“I do not know.”
“Are you hiding anything?”
“No, dammit, no.”
Dex stared at the wall on the right side. His colleague again confirmed that Spike was still telling the truth.
“Did you know your brother was ORRF?”
“He was not ORRF,” shouted Spike.
“The boy does not know anything,” Dex’s colleague said through the ear chip. “He is telling the truth.”
Dex moved closer to Spike and slapped him hard across his face. Spike fell from the chair. The hit momentarily blurred his vision and compromised his hearing. Dex grabbed his hair and pulled him up from the floor. He then punched Spike in his stomach, a second time. Spike gasped for air. Dex was no longer interested in talking—he was simply torturing the boy. He slammed Spike’s head against the wall. His skin cracked open above his right eye and blood trickled down. Dex let him bleed for a while and watched with pleasure. By now Spike was barely able to stand. He then grabbed Spike from behind his neck, pulled him near, and shoved his right knee into Spike’s abdomen. That was the last hit Spike could take. He sank to the floor and did not move again.
Later that night, when Spike woke up, he found himself in a hospital.
CHAPTER 11
Sector 91, Sub-Sector 1 (formerly known as Dubai, United Arab Emirates)
Nile had recovered well over the last few weeks and Coco was happy. The faster he recovered, the sooner she could go back home—away from this Militia torture cell, she thought. She was sure that the Commander would make her pay for her actions, but she was trying not to be bothered about it. At worst, she would get demoted. Being jobless scared her, but she could stomach a demotion, especially when it helped in saving someone’s life, even if only temporarily.
She walked up to Nile, pulled up a chair and sat next to his bed, fully aware that the cameras in the ward were recording and the Commander was probably watching her from his office. She did not care—not anymore. The attendant in the ward looked at the two of them and then pretended to be busy with her chores.
Nile made an interesting case for her. A thirty-seven-year-old man, willing to die for something he believed in, not willing to give up a friend’s identity despite the torture, thinking of his family when his own life was slipping away, and who believed in God. Where do they make such men these days? she thought. What does he know that makes him this brave?
She speculated about Nile’s fate after she was gone. It was a matter of days before she would leave and a new doctor would be assigned to Nile. The Commander would torture him again, then save him, and then torture him again. This would continue until Nile gave the Commander what he wanted—if Nile indeed knew something.
She could not help compare Nile to Hawk, her boyfriend back home. Hawk would probably never take a stand for anything, even for her. Hawk would do anything necessary to be successful without much consideration of ethics. She was sure he was cheating on her behind her back. He was not the loyal type, but she forced herself to hang onto him. Why do I do that? she asked herself. Because men are like that. You either live alone or settle with someone like Hawk.
She had never cheated on Hawk and it bothered her to think about him sleeping with other girls. There was nothing she could do about it. She was sure if she brought up the subject, Hawk would bravely accept her allegations and show her the door. She was not ready to leave.
Nile, on the other hand, had a wife and three kids whom he loved dearly. Such a man would never cheat on his wife, she reckoned. He could not even cheat on his business associate when his life depended on it. How does it feel to be the woman of such a man? His wife must feel so secure in his arms—his strong arms. She must feel so fulfilled when he makes love to her.
“Are there more men like you?” she asked quietly. She had undeniably fallen in love with her patient—a love that transcended the physical and ventured into the spiritual. She leaned forward and stroked his hair. She would not mind making love to him; in fact, it would be an honor if he was ever to accept her. She would love to be owned by a real man, for a change. Even if it did not happen, even if they never
touched, she would still love him. He had touched her soul like no man could. He had made love to her spirit and that went beyond the realm of sex and sensuality.
She smiled at her thoughts. What was she thinking? Nile was in love, married, and a family man. He was also potentially working for a terrorist cell—at least that is what the Commander believed. You horny bitch! She smiled at herself.
Nile opened his eyes and was surprised to see his doctor sitting next to him. She pulled her hand from Nile’s head, slightly embarrassed. “Sorry, I woke you up,” she said. Nile did not answer and closed his eyes again.
“I will go now,” said Coco. “If you need something, then just let the warden know.”
“Do not go, Doctor. I feel safe when you are around.”
Coco placed her hand on his. “You are safe as long as you are in this ward.”
“But how long, Doctor? I am sure in a few days, they will take me again.”
“Then you should listen to them.”
“Doctor, have you ever read any of the scriptures?” Nile suddenly changed the topic.
“What are the scriptures?”
“The Quran, the Bible, the Torah, the Bhagavad Gita, the Guru Granth Sahib, etcetera. Have you never heard of these?”
“No. I do not think these are legal anyway.”
“It is our right to know who we are, who created us, what are we supposed to do in this world, and where are we going after our death. The scriptures tell us all this. Why are these illegal?”
“We go nowhere after our death, Nile. I am a doctor, trust me on this. We die, we die. That is the end. You have been fooled into believing that there is something more meaningful in this life, when there is none. You are willing to sacrifice your life for something that does not exist, cannot exist.”
“If that is the case, Doctor, then explain to me who created you with all this beauty and intelligence. Do you wish to credit random chemical processes for a creation as perfect as you? No, I would credit God for creating someone as good as you.”
Coco was taken aback; slightly embarrassed as well. Nile had praised her in a big way, but at the same time insulted her. She had never thought of God with this perspective.
“Who created this planet, this universe, our galaxy, and billions of galaxies beyond ours? Who keeps them in their orbits, running on their paths and not colliding? Who created plants, animals, fish, insects, birds? Who created all that we can feel, but cannot see? Answer me, Doctor,” said Nile.
“I do not know. Maybe evolution?”
“Then who created evolution?”
“I really do not know.”
“Do you really believe that this process called evolution that is credited for creating everything was created by no one? Let me tell you who created all this, including evolution—a Creator, God, created all this. Everything came from Him and everything goes back to Him.”
“There is no scientific evidence to prove God.”
“Your very existence is scientific evidence. This universe and everything in it is a testimony to His existence.”
“If God does exist, then why is He hidden? Why does He not come forward and show to me that He exists? Why are there no signs?”
“You ignore His signs and then you ask where His signs are? You want to see God? I will tell why you do not see Him: because you cannot see Him. Forget God, you cannot even look at His creations properly. Have you ever tried looking at the sun on a sunny day? How long can you hold your stare? Probably for a few seconds and then it blinds you temporarily. Our sun is just one of billions of stars in the universe. It is not the largest or the brightest. You are millions of miles away and still you cannot stare at it for more than a few seconds. How do you think you can see God, someone who created this sun and billions of others, greater and brighter, and then keeps them in His control?”
Coco was bowled over. “I do not understand all this. I have never had the time and opportunity to think through this.”
“So, what you do not understand does not exist?”
“I did not say that.”
“You are a doctor. You have spent years studying the human body. Do you know everything about the human body?”
“No, I do not.”
“So, what you do not understand in the human body does not exist?”
Coco took a deep breath and smiled at Nile. He had been tortured, burned, and stabbed, but still he did not hesitate to say all this, aware that his words were being heard. He sure has a death wish, reflected Coco. Too bad, because he is a good man.
“What religion do you practice?” Coco asked.
“Does it make a difference to you?”
“No, it does not. I just want to know.”
“For you, everything is the same, Doctor. You cannot tell one from the other. I will answer you when you have studied different religions.”
“I have no plans for that.”
“I remember saying that once too.”
An awkward moment of silence followed, during which they looked into each other’s eyes. Nile was the first one to break eye contact and look toward the ceiling. He seemed nervous, shy, and embarrassed.
Coco smiled at his shyness and stood up from her chair. “I have been meaning to tell you something.”
Nile looked at her and said nothing.
“I have been transferred back home. I will be leaving this place shortly.”
“You are leaving me?” Nile asked sorrowfully.
“I am being transferred, potentially demoted. The Commander is not happy with me and is sending me packing. I am sure I will be in trouble of some sort when I get back. I am hoping it is only a demotion and not unemployment.”
“I am sorry for your loss. I know that I caused it.”
“Some losses are worth it,” Coco replied with a warm smile.
Nile looked at her silently, too sad to say anything. Coco waited for him to say something and when he did not, she said, “I think I shall get going.”
“Where is your home, Doctor?”
“Excuse me?” Coco was unsure of what he meant.
“Where are you from, Doctor?”
“I am from Sector Three.”
“I see.”
“Where are you from? Where is this ‘Egypt’?” She thought it was an opportune time to ask him about his whereabouts, now that he had asked her first.
“Egypt is the old name of Sector Fifteen. I am not from Sector Fifteen. My parents migrated from Sector Fifteen to Sector Two after the war. I was born and raised in Sector Two.”
“So Nile is not your real name?”
“No, it is not. Nile was a river that flowed through Egypt. My parents missed home and nicknamed me Nile. After the war, the UPF changed the course of the river to better control water resources. I do not know what it is called now. They must have given it a stupid name with numbers and decimals, like everything else. Like us.”
“So, what is your real name?”
“Some shitty mathematical equation with decimals,” replied Nile. He was clearly reluctant to call himself anything but Nile. “I am thankful to my parents, who gave me this beautiful name. I feel like a human, not a machine or a number.”
“You should refrain from criticizing the system like this,” advised Coco. “Think about your family, think about your children. They need a father.”
Nile looked at the ceiling and took a deep breath. After a moment of silence, he looked at Coco again. “When you go back home, and if you have time, please call my wife and talk to her.”
“What do you want me to say to her?”
“Tell her that I love her and kids. Talk to my children. Tell them I was innocent. I am not a traitor. Tell them I was a good man.”
“I will,” replied Coco.
“If you can, please visit them as well. They will be lonely without me.”
“I will try, but cannot promise.”
“There is no need for promises, Doctor.”
Nile gave her the cell
phone number of his wife. She saved the details on her phone.
“What is her name?” Coco asked.
“I call her Chandani.”
“That is not English.”
“I do not care.”
“What does ‘Chandani’ mean?”
“Beautiful moonlight.”
“Very romantic, Mr. River,” replied Coco and they both laughed.
It was the first time she had seen him laugh. He looked stunning, even lying down on a hospital bed, wounded all over, and counting the days of his life. She imagined how good he would look if all of this was not weighing on him, at his home, among his people.
“Chandani is a very lucky woman, Mr. River,” said Coco. She turned around and walked away without saying good-bye. Nile was surprised at her sudden departure. As she walked out of the ward, she looked at one of the security cameras and wondered if the Commander had been observing them all along. She thought for a while and then started walking toward the Commander’s office. Nile had almost recovered and she wanted to update him on Nile’s progress. She also wanted him to expedite her transfer. It was difficult to see Nile healthy and smiling and then see him tortured again. His beliefs, right or wrong, were his point of view and he did not deserve to die for believing in something.
She stopped at the Commander’s office and asked permission to see him. The officer seated outside the Commander’s office knocked on the door and went inside. He emerged after a few minutes and told her that the Commander would see her.
To her surprise, the Commander greeted her with a smile. He stood up from his chair, walked to the door, and then guided her to the conference table on the right side of his room. He pulled a chair for her and gestured her to sit. He then sat on the chair next to her.
“I understand your patient has recovered well,” said the Commander.
“Yes, he has,” confirmed Coco.
“You have done a good job.”
“I have done what I was supposed to do.”
“We like people who do what they are supposed to do and do not meddle in others’ affairs.”