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| 2: Meanwhile, Back On Earth |
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Hyman Bartholomew idly traced a circle in the dusty dirt with his sandaled left foot. Sitting next to him on the same bench his friend Karim Mansoor did the same with his right foot. Both appeared to be, and in fact were, quite bored.
"So," asked Hyman, "can't you think of anything funny to say?"
Karim stopped playing with the dirt.
"No," he answered. "Besides, if I did I'd probably just get us both in trouble with the guards. Me for saying it, and you for enjoying it."
At that Hyman smiled while looking down and suppressing a quiet snicker.
In deference to the heat, both men were lightly dressed. Modest long pants and white T-shirts were the order of the day. Both men were built thin. Hyman was the shorter of the two. He was beardless, had a slightly receding hairline, and wore a knitted hat fashioned in the shape of a traditional Hebrew yarmulke. Karim had a bushy head of hair and beard.
After a quiet moment or two Hyman said, "So, we've just had lunch and now have nothing to do until dinnertime. After that we get to sit around, maybe watch some old holovideos, the propaganda news, and then go to bed."
"You forgot to mention 'and say our daily prayers,'" said Karim. "That's something at least half of us here are honored to do each day."
"Oh, yes," agreed Hyman. "That was thoughtless of me."
"But otherwise you are right," continued Karim. "And then tomorrow we get to wake up and do it all over again. That's the way life goes on here in this modern new concentration camp on the famously ancient and everlasting Gaza Strip."
"Don't say concentration camp so loud," nervously hissed Hyman. "The guards will hear you for sure and haul us up for another 'education and correction' lecture. You know how much we both hate those!"
"Yeah, you're right. Besides. It's not really a concentration camp in the classic historical sense. We get three really good meals a day prepared by professional chefs, don't have any work to do, get to wear nice clothes, sleep in nice rooms, have full access to bathrooms and showers at any time, and no one is tortured or killed."
Hyman nodded his assent.
"On the other hand," continued Kareem, "we can't go anywhere, must stay enclosed behind these secure walls and fences, can't be visited by family or friends without advance approval, entertain ourselves in any creative way, or even be allowed writing materials or tools."
"And that's because ...," prompted Hyman.
"We might exercise our minds by committing the horrible crime of writing comedy!" concluded Karim.
Both sat quietly for a while pondering what Karim had just said. It was Hyman who finally broke the silence.
"You know, if anyone at any other time in the long history of human beings ever predicted that situations like the one we now find ourselves in would come to pass, they would have been considered crazy. A writer of fiction! Just plain nuts!"
This time it was Karim who nodded his assent.
"Historically people just don't normally go to jail for writing comedy!" Hyman went on in exasperation.
"Yes they have," said Karim. "People living in suppressive regimes have often been thrown in jail for writing or performing comedy."
"But that was because of what they wrote. It was because the content of their comedy was, or could be construed as, critical of the regime that threw them in jail. People were not arrested just because they can write stuff or do stuff that could make other people laugh." Argued Hyman. "I don't know about you, but I was arrested for writing and performing jokes onstage about the King's enemies."
"Yes, I was arrested for writing and publishing a humorous article about an old Imam who once lived in my hometown," said Karim. "I wasn't arrested for showing a lack of faith, criticizing the teachings of the Koran, or anything like that. I was arrested for trying to write something funny!"
At that Hyman and Karim both sat quietly for a minute or two. It was Karim who finally broke the silence.
"I know what we should do," said Karim. "We should write a history of how things came to be the way they are today."
"What do you mean writing history," demanded Hyman. "We've already acknowledged can't write anything."
"We don't have to write it down. We could talk about it verbally. Discuss and agree on all the details. Then commit the whole thing to memory."
"Like in that classically ancient old story about the book burning firemen! The one where a secret community of volunteers each commits one or more important books to memory so they can pass it on to future generations. Wasn't that written by the legendary Asimov?" asked Hyman.
"No, no. I think it was one of the other ancient classical writers. Bradbury, Anderson, or maybe even Stephen King," said Karim.
Karim was growing more excited as he talked. Hyman was beginning to catch his fever.
"Where do you think we should begin?" he asked.
Karim abruptly stood up and began to pace around as he thought out loud.
"We should probably begin with the war which resulted in the establishment of the new Kingdom of Jerusalem and put King John on the throne," he said, pointing at nothing with his index finger for emphasis.
At that point a baseball-sized security holocam flew up from one of the nearby observation towers and stationed itself 6 feet off the ground and 3 feet away from the two; it's several lenses clearly encompassing the scene. Like well rehearsed veterans, both men immediately became very serious looking. Kareem frowned as if struggling with a deeply troubling problem. Hyman's face became very sad looking as he looked into the dirt.
They were saved when a group of old women sitting around a table across the yard suddenly burst into loud laughter. The holocam spun around and flew off in the direction of the women to investigate.
"That was close," said Hyman.
"Yes, it was," said Karim as he quickly sat down on the bench again. "Let's see, where was I? Oh, yes! The coming of King John."
"I think we should begin with just a bit more historical background," interjected Hyman. "Like pointing out that here we are, almost 2,000 years since the landing of the first man on the moon, humankind's first real venture into space, and the area known as the Middle East is still a hotbed and starting point for frequent wars. And that most of those wars had some sort of religious conflict at its base. Yeah, that would help establish the historic backdrop. Let's start with that first guy landing on the moon. That famous Chinese guy. What was his name?"
"That guy was an American," said Karim with a tone of exasperation in his voice. "The first several guys on the moon were all Americans. You're getting them confused with the first successful colony on the moon. That was the Chinese."
"Oh, yeah. You're right," said Hyman. "Ok, maybe, before we do anything else, we should just quickly run over what the major points of this so-called history should contain."
"Okay," said Karim, "let's do that. So, first we start with the historic background summary as you have suggested. Maybe add some details by mentioning specific wars and how they started. Then we talk about how a business conglomerate headed by John's father plotted with Luna to invade the Middle East, set up a new kingdom here, and make John its absolute leader by appointing him king."
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