Dr. Feryal Özel, still engaged with her ideas, turned to Ender. “If I share with you some of my ideas, could you give me an answer after thinking them over?”
Ender smiled at her and nodded silently.
Feryal continued. “Here is the first piece of data: Human DNA is repeated in each cell in almost the same manner. In other words, every cell, from those in the hair to those in the intestine, has the same basic DNA coding. The second piece of data: only five to ten percent of the data in DNA is in use. The function and purpose of the other data is unknown. Now comes the question: Do you think that a fish leaves millions of eggs to create thousands of offspring as an evolutionary strategy to increase the numbers of its descendants?”
Ender looked off in the distance. He seemed to be making calculations. “Actually, you’re indirectly asking me if there is a purpose for our existence. Continuing the bloodline is the expansion of the why question, isn’t it?”
“You’re near my point, yes,” Feryal answered.
Ender thought again to himself, then turned to her. “I’d like to begin explaining in the way that I hate the most—in other words, with a question,” he said. “If you had all the power to send a message that would last a very long time, even eternally, what would you do?”
This question excited me and prompted me to jump in. “While working on the Qur’anic code, I thought about this issue a lot,” I said. “In fact, I may have even addressed this question precisely. If a message is written in nature by using universal constraints, like the code I suggested, it will be there as long as the universe exists. Take a number like Pi, which continues until eternity. If we encode a message in such an ocean of information, the message can go to the Andromeda galaxy or to any edge of the universe and it will stay the same: stable. So the information remains as long as the universe exists.”
“I would try a different approach,” Feryal said. “I would write the message in the place where time doesn’t function: on the border of extinction, such as the entrance to a black hole, to guarantee that the message and information stay there as long as time and the universe allow.”
Ender considered our comments thoughtfully. “These are good statements,” he said, “but they still don’t cover all eventualities. The universe is in a loop, and as such, if it assumes a form in which the same rules don’t apply, your message will vanish.”
A period of silence followed until the boy spoke again. “If the message can be written inside of a complex structure that is able to exist, overcome and adapt to every situation, we can have a dynamic means of message transmission. I posit that there can be a possibility of carrying a secret message in our very DNA which allows us to go beyond time and our universe. As you know, life does anything it can to survive.”
“Whoa! Even I hadn’t thought about it that way,” Feryal said.
“So what would the message be? If the reason of our presence is that message, what is it?” I asked.
Ender laughed at that. “How can I answer that question? I can only make inferences about these dimensions, and I am only one person with one mind. How can an electron that transmits only a portion of a small electrical signal in a telephone conversation know the entirety of that conversation? Assume, for example, that you are a tiny LED light on a dashboard, occasionally flashing. You will neither know the whole image nor which part of the message you support.”
The conversation had tired us all out at that point. Hidir and Feryal got up to head to their rooms while I remained thinking about what Ender had just described. As I was about to go back to my room, Ender followed closely. “You may not be aware of it,” he said quietly, “but you have been badly beaten. Take care of yourself. Don’t let the things you know but don’t remember prevent you from protecting yourself.”
I laughed. “If she hadn’t left, I would think Gizem was talking to me now. Did she put you up to this?” I said.
Ender smiled at my joke, then grew more serious. “Just pay attention to Fatin,” he said before he went to his room.
I didn’t know what Ender was referring to, so, in my room, I dismissed his warning and tried to think of a strategy for the competition. The easiest idea was to poison Fatin and sell him the antidote, but I knew that couldn’t go beyond a thought.
The next afternoon, it was again my turn to be interviewed by the host. So I sat again in front of the cameras and talked about my thoughts on the competition and about Gizem’s elimination. As my mind was occupied with the next challenge, I didn’t insist on talking as much about my book and the code. When asked about the other competitors, I avoided the subject by giving wishy-washy answers. I expertly navigated questions intended to trap me, such as what had happened to my lip. By the time the hourglass was empty, I had grown bored and I slipped out of the room.
When I went into the lounge, Ender and Hidir, the cleric, were there. Hidir was talking while sketching something on a paper, and the boy was cheerfully listening to him. The cleric seemed like he was talking to his grandchild.
“The Qur’an is the greatest miracle and was always directed to him. When our Prophet was asked to show a miracle, he always showed it. People always wanted more, and they studied this holy book for centuries. They still do. In the process, one of the discoveries that has been made about the book is the repetition of words.”
“The word day is used three hundred and sixty-five times,” Hidir explained. “The word days, thirty times; the word month is used twelve times; punishment, one hundred and seventeen times; the word forgive is used twice that much; the world, one hundred and fifteen; the devil, eighty-eight; angels, eighty-eight; heaven, seventy-seven; hell, seventy-seven times; return, seventy-five; eternity, seventy times; the sun, thirty-three times; and nimbus is used thirty-three times. Those are only a few examples. Even the word land is used thirteen times; and the word sea, thirty-two times. That is consistent with the current ratio of land to sea on Earth, 71.111 percent.”
After silently returning to his drawing for a moment, Hıdır, turned back to the boy and continued. “As we know, in the Qur’an, twenty-nine suras begin with one or more symbolic letters. Mukataa letters, known as the disjointed letters, are also called the beginning letters. Fourteen letters out of twenty-nine in Arabic form the mukataa letters: Ayn, Sin, Kaf, Nun, Ra, Ya, Ta, Ha, Elif, Lam, Mim, He, Sad, and Kefar.”
“When one looks at the usage of the letter Nun in the Kaleem sura,” he continued, “he or she can see the rhyme with the letter Nun in 88.8 percent of the verses. That rhymes with 84.6 percent of the sura, Suara, 90.32 percent of the sura, Neml, and 92.05 percent of the sura, Kasas.
“When one considers the whole Qur’an, one can see that there is a rhyme with the letter Nun in 50.08 percent of the book. In other words, more than half of the verses in the Qur’an end with Nun. It has been impossible to make a rhyme with a single vowel in more than half of the text in any literary work. This is not just true for Arabic; it applies to all languages.
“When a general review of the Qur’an is done in terms of rhyme, it is seen that about eighty percent of the rhyming is formed by three vowels (n, m, and a) formed by Elif, Mim, Ya, and Nun. Except for the letter Nun, thirty percent of verses are rhymed with Mim, Elif, or Ya.
“In a poem with two hundred to three hundred lines, the rhyme formed by two or three vowels is enough for the work to be considered a masterpiece. However, when considering the length of the Qur’an, the information it contains, and its wisdom, one can better understand how phenomenal such a rhyme pattern is. In this regard, Arabic language experts define the Qur’an as absolutely inimitable.”
Ender was eagerly listening to the cleric. I wanted to interrupt and ask Ender his opinions on the issue, but I kept my silence so as not to disturb their conversation and to avoid treating the boy like a freak. When Fatin came into the lounge, I used that as an excuse to go to my room.
When I woke up early the next day, I was anxious. The competition was beginning to agitate me. Fortunately,
it was Elif’s day to visit and realizing it, I grew excited. I had never been away from her for this long, and, in her absence, I realized how important she was to me. I really missed her.
When I entered the interview room, I ignored the cameras and the observer and went directly to the opposite side of the table and hugged Elif tightly. I didn’t let her go for a long time. It was as if I wanted to refresh my memory and fill it with her.
After we sat down, I told her how much I missed her, but Elif had noticed the wounds on my face and was distracted by them. She didn’t listen when I told her it wasn’t a fight, but an accident, and that nothing serious had happened. I knew she wanted to tell me to leave the contest, but she only looked at me and tenderly touched the wound on my lip. Although there was longing between us and a lot to talk about, the time was over before we knew it. But this time, I could hardly leave her. The contest had taught me that I couldn’t stay apart from her for that long.
I went into the lounge feeling frustrated. The other contestants were there now in force. Hıdır was in the corner, mumbling something with a book in his hand. Fatin was staring into space, and Ender and Feryal were chatting in the large armchairs. I barely heard what the professor was talking about. Ender was the only one who didn’t look bored.
“No matter how this competition ends,” Feryal said, “I’m glad I met you and got to know you, and I’m really thankful for what you’ve shown me,” she said.
“I’m really happy to be here and to have met all of you, too,” Ender said, smiling. Then he laughed. “Even you, warlock Uncle Fatin.”
Fatin snapped out of his pensive gaze and did something unbelievable. Looking at the boy, he cracked a smile. I think it was even a sincere one.
“One last question for you,” Feryal continued. “There was a famous experiment where photons pass in quantum—”
“Too long— ” Ender interrupted her with some weariness in his voice. “I’m too tired to fully explain it. But, in brief, I can tell you that things happening now not only affect the future but also the past. However, as we have a brain structure that is accustomed to the perception of moving forward in time, we suppose that the past is fixed and unchanging.
“In other words,” Ender continued as Hidir and I came over to listen. “If we traveled in time and tried to go back in time, we would always encounter a different past. The history and past would never be the same as we remembered it because the past is changeable.
“It is a well-known fact that when entropy directs the timeline toward the future, it is actually preventing current events from affecting that future. More precisely, the increase in entropy and its continuous effect prevent an eternal future. So, if it affects the past now, then the past also can’t last forever. Whether we move forward or backward in time, we always go toward the future, the changing new. We always move forward on top of a new wave, no matter the direction. That’s why the future is only lived, and the past can only be remembered.”
The talk had begun to surpass me, and I began to drift off and think about the competition. I had been too idle and, probably, no one would want to buy my product. My anxious thoughts were interrupted by another announcement from Fatin.
“Like the last time,” he said. “I already know well in advance what I’m going to offer you: something you will desire and want to buy immediately. It serves my purpose to declare it in advance as I will enjoy watching you struggle helplessly. During the challenge, I am going to put a spell on you with my jinns, and in order not to lose, you are going to ask me for the magic words that will break the spell.” He laughed cruelly now. “Whoever’s begging impresses me the least will not receive my blessing.”
We were petrified when he left the lounge, the sound of his evil laughter trailing behind him.
The competition night came in all its glory and, in our costumes, we all anxiously waited in the lounge.
Announcements and reminders of important events from the last week were cast onto a giant screen. Good-luck messages from the people supporting us were scattered throughout the broadcast.
There was no need for narration from the host or over-the-top music; the heat was already on. If it had been a competition of who was more anxious, I would already have won. Later, the host and the staff left us alone in the lounge. Dr. Feryal Özel sat with her arm around Ender while Hıdır, the cleric, sat alone quietly. I stood silently and waited.
At the sound of the gong, everyone turned and looked at Fatin. He wandered around with confidence, drawing something on the floor and opening his hands slightly as esoteric words spilled from his lips. I saw again the thin gray smoke as it rose from his hands and grew larger, and then began to move over us ominously.
Feryal and Ender took the cue and held up some device in their hands. The device buzzed, the sound increased, and a transparent wall formed by a spherical blue light wrapped around them. The thin gray smoke hit the wall and could only wrap around it. They were safe. For the first time, I saw anxiety in Fatin’s eyes.
Suddenly, I was startled by his gaze. It was like that of a frightened, aggressive animal. The gray smoke was already headed in my direction, and I could hardly see the warlock through the smoke. Short of breath, I tried desperately to escape, but I couldn’t control my feet. I saw my hands change colors, turning dark as if I had a strange skin disease. I couldn’t hear anything but a roar and my eyesight quickly deteriorated. Fortunately, Hıdır appeared by my side. Thanks to his prayer and the focused movements of his hands, the smoke around me grew thinner, and I found a little strength to take a deep grateful breath.
“I give you my prayer of protection,” Hıdır murmured.
I nodded my head in gratitude. “But what can I give you?” I murmured, embarrassed and with a shaky voice.
The cleric smiled. “Your gratitude is enough.”
The spotlights rose, as did the music, and the host announced that Fatin was eliminated. The rest of us were relieved and exhausted.
No one went to Fatin’s room as he was packing, but Fatin came to me. He placed his hand on my shoulder, and it felt like tarantula hairs touching my skin. Looking directly into my face with his bloodshot eyes, he spoke with a low wheezing that smelled of rotten eggs. “Idiot,” he said. ”Did you think I wouldn’t eliminate you? Did you believe your ridiculous ideas would save you?”
I was about to say something, when he pressed me against the wall and closed my mouth with his other hand. “Shut up! I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to the one inside of you. You are only a piece of paper that I write the message on. You only deliver it.” As he was saying all this, his voice broke, accompanied by a shaky, wheezing sound. I suddenly felt nauseous and light-headed.
He moved closer to my ear. “You’re the only connection I have outside of the system; that’s why you still exist. If they are by my side, I can win. And if I win, all the rules change. Eternity will no longer be torture.”
Leaning against the wall with my eyes shut, I bent over and vomited. After wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I looked for him and through blurry vision saw him standing at the door.
Fatin looked at me straight, and his eyes glowed red in the dark. “I’ve learned that you do no harm. That’s why I’m leaving.”
He closed the door.
Mansur Al-Hallaj
The next day, I stayed in my room without talking to anyone and watched the faint light that leaked through my window. I had no strength or energy left. I had fought a long way, but now I felt helpless. I didn’t even have the strength to try to sleep. I went to my desk, took a piece of paper, and carelessly drew a picture of a cube and filled it with scratches. Then I hung the sketch on the wall and sat on the floor and focused my eyes on the figure. This was now my Kaaba, and I was Mansur al-Hallaj, the profound but persecuted Sufist. An honorable man, Mansur al-Hallaj, sat in front of the Kaaba for a month, lost himself, and fasted except for a piece of bread and a sip of water. His only prayer was to ask God to forgive the ones who
’d tortured him. The last words he spoke were “A-la-Haq” (I’m God).
I closed my eyes and began my own meditation. Even though I hadn’t lost the contest, I had lost my self-confidence, and I realized that I existed only thanks to the help of others. I saw myself standing somewhere alone on a faraway plane of paper—a place where one could see without eyes nor feel without touch. Time stopped. Here in this dimension, there was no need for food, water, or even air. I was only an ego—far away from everything but close as well. It was as if I had taken a DVD of all my experience and was looking at it not from the inside but from the outside. Maybe everything was written.
I don’t know how much time had passed when I heard Ender’s voice.
“Come on,” he said. “You can’t give up now. Don’t you remember the man screaming for war, even though he was left alone on the battlefield? What happened to that one more chance you demanded? Even one chance is enough for a fight.”
I heard him but couldn’t answer. I couldn’t remember what had happened, and I didn’t understand what the boy was talking about. Then, as my memory began to return, slowly and vaguely, I realized the indigo boy was holding my hand.
“I’ve thought for days since you closed yourself off,” he continued. “I’ve tried to evaluate the available data. Although I don’t know the reason, I believe in every way that you are our only chance. Remember the LED board example I gave? That each lamp wouldn’t know their own duty? Well, I think I have learned my duty, the reason for my existence. There are only hours left before this week’s challenge, and I will prevent you from being eliminated by withdrawing. It is the only thing I can do—but please, you must also do your part.” With that, Ender’s voice grew silent and I couldn’t feel his presence anymore.
Creating Something Together
In the morning, when I awoke, I felt incredibly tired and all my joints rebelled against my movements. My skin was dry and my bones protruded in my hands. When I saw my face, it wasn’t the same. I didn’t recognize myself. My two still-bright-blue eyes were the only features that resembled me.
Save the Last Bullet for God Page 13