Khelo

Here I try to Expresses my feelings and thoughts in short articles or stories

[khelo212]

Chapter Two: The Storm

From afar, a massive mass appeared moving on the horizon… a deadly sandstorm creeping heavily toward the city. Within moments, the giant iron panels began to shut over Metrofia, floor by floor. With each floor sealed, the daylight dimmed—until the city was engulfed in suffocating darkness, pierced only by the hum of electric generators starting up inside the mountain.

In that moment, I knew my goods would be delayed.

I returned to my home in the “Eastern Quarter,” one of the worst neighborhoods in Metrofia. Power outages were common there due to load shedding, and the cooling systems worked only by coincidence. Still, despite its state, the house was a shelter—and in Metrofia, nothing is worse than being homeless.

Here, the homeless aren’t seen as victims… but as criminals.

The Iron Guards patrol daily to collect them. If they don’t find gold coins on the person, they execute them on the spot. No trial. No mercy. One of the guards fires his metal-tipped gun directly at the head, and the body is thrown outside the walls—where the desert beasts devour it.

I saw it with my own eyes. I was passing by when the guards caught a man. He begged, screamed, cried, but no one dared to approach. The guards’ polished steel bodies, towering over two meters tall, are irresistible. A metallic authority that leaves no room for rebellion. The sound of the shot tore through my heart… then silence fell over everything.

But the horror wasn’t over.

“Stop!”

I froze in place.

Another guard’s voice—closer this time. I felt an instant chill run down my spine, despite the scorching storm outside.

“Show me how much you have.”

He raised his weapon straight to my head. I could hear nothing but my own heartbeat. I couldn’t even remember how much gold I had. His hands were steady on the trigger, and his eyes watched me like I was a dead target awaiting execution

[khelo212]

Metrofia ( متروفيا )

Introduction

At the beginning of 2020, many strange phenomena began to spread across the world, as if our planet were taking its last breath—hurricanes, earthquakes, volcanoes, and extreme climate fluctuations. Then, a series of rings began to form in the sky, emitting a sound like war horns. No one had an explanation for what was happening around the world.

This became a golden opportunity for conspiracy theorists to flood TV channels and social media with their bizarre theories. Some claimed these were messages from higher beings trying to communicate with humanity, while others said it was a secret organization attempting to carry out the Golden Billion plan through satellites and temperature manipulation.

But the truth was far more dangerous. After these portals appeared, strange disappearances began to occur all over the world.

⸻

Chapter One

Metrofia, a city bustling with life, suffocated by towering buildings and advanced technology, is wrapped in a warm breeze, as if it were an eternal spring. It’s strange to feel a sense of belonging here—among faces you’ve never known, and laughter that cuts through the crowds as if woven from your old memories. For a moment, I forget I’m not in Cairo; as if I never left it ten years ago.

Ten years have passed since I fell through the portal between worlds. I was a commerce student at Cairo University, holding onto simple dreams—dreams that collapsed the moment the sky opened its mouth and swallowed me into this place. I had no choice but to work in the quarries, my strength drained day after day just to stay alive. Over time, I managed to save enough to start a small trade—my first step out of the cycle of poverty.

Metrofia is no ordinary city. It’s a metallic monument carved from the mountain itself. To a first-time visitor, it might look like a technological version of Minas Tirith, the legendary city from The Lord of the Rings. Its tiers rise like steps, and at the peak stands a towering metal pyramid, surrounded by massive metallic walls that conceal one of the strongest security forces in the Great Tree Union: the Iron Guard—an authority tasked with maintaining order in Metrofia. They represent the dominant hand controlling every corner of the city on behalf of the “Great Tree” sect—a group of monks who have devoted their lives to worshipping a massive tree said to have existed on the mountain for thousands of years. Legend has it that its roots, embedded deep in the rocks, gave the Founder the power to build the city.

This is why people offer gifts to the tree during the “Day of the Eclipse”—a sacred day on which markets close, work halts, and any crime committed is considered a violation of the day’s sanctity, punishable by immediate death.

The Great Tree Union consists of several cities scattered around different sides of Mount Founder. They all share a common foundation: the extraction of “Karmen” stones, which lie within the mountain and serve as the backbone of Metrofia’s entire industry. Its importance is comparable to that of oil in our world.

Each city in the Union has its own laws derived from the teachings of the Founder—a belief system followed by the entire population. These laws vary based on what’s known as the Classification Standard, which ranks citizens according to the amount of gold they possess. Every city has a minimum and maximum gold threshold that determines its residents’ rights and duties. If your gold exceeds your city’s maximum, you move to a city where your amount becomes the minimum—gaining more rights, fewer responsibilities, and a better life. But if your gold drops below the minimum, you’re forcibly returned to your original city.

Currently, I’m trying to escape the nightmare of poverty in this city. According to Metrofia’s law, poverty is illegal—a sign of laziness, punishable by exile into the barren wastelands beyond, where either the sun’s heat or the beasts that roam there will kill you… or worse, public execution in a city square.

From the outside, Metrofia appears to be a grand monument. But inside, it’s the perfect place to crush the human spirit and kill hope. No one has space to breathe. No one even thinks about anything but work.

But I don’t see this as a life worth living. That’s why I managed to contact a merchant from a city called “Jor”—a city with a higher classification level than Metrofia. This trader will supply me with goods to sell in Metrofia. That way, I can achieve financial security for myself—or maybe, just maybe, one day, I’ll be able to leave this city.

In Metrofia, the hope I hold is a rare currency in a city built for industry, where people live in extreme poverty and constant fear of the Iron Guard courts, where even the most merciful sentence… is death.

[khelo212]

The entity of Nahda university

On a cold February night, inside Nahda University Specialized Hospital, silence and stillness filled the place—except for one office on the upper floor. There, a young doctor was buried in paperwork, her face etched with exhaustion, frustration, and anger.

This doctor, with curly orange hair and round-lensed glasses, looked like a desperate soul searching for a cure to her torment. Her fingers moved at an incredible speed across the keyboard. The towering stack of papers beside her explained everything.

Finally, she smiled faintly and muttered, “Done.”

She let out a deep sigh.

It was a relief to see the end of a long struggle.

She quickly tidied up her desk before leaving, preparing to face it all again the next morning. From arranging pens by color to adjusting the placement of her board, every small detail reflected a near-obsessive precision. Yet, in the midst of her routine, she whispered to herself:

“Yes… yes… this time, the promotion won’t slip through my fingers. Finally, once I get it, I’ll be able to pay off my debts, and this suffering will end.”

After finishing everything, she rushed out of the hospital building, hailing a taxi to return home after a grueling day.

⸻

Morning came.

Inside a messy room, where books, certificates, and graduation photos were scattered among pictures of family and friends, Dr. Nariman slowly opened her eyes, yawning. Then, in an instant, panic struck her.

“The alarm didn’t wake me up!”

She had fallen into such a deep sleep from exhaustion that even the alarm failed to stir her. She glanced at the clock—

7:30 AM.

She had to be in her office by 8!

Her mind raced. She needed a plan—fast.

“Alright, let’s analyze the situation.”

Her eyes darted around the room, searching for her essentials.

“Shoes… shirt… coat… all set.”

“I have exactly ten minutes to get ready.”

Determination flared in her eyes, as if she were a hunter zeroing in on its prey.

She finished dressing in just under eight minutes. Now, she faced one final obstacle—

Public transport.

“I won’t let anything go wrong.”

She decided to take a taxi straight to the university, even though it would cost her dearly.

Because, according to Murphy’s Law:

“Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.”

Her heart pounded with every red light, her gaze fixed on her wristwatch. Finally, she arrived.

8:10 AM.

She was just steps away from her promotion. That was all that mattered.

In her rush, she forgot to take her change from the driver and dashed inside the four-story university building—two floors above ground and one below.

Her office was on the first upper floor, making the climb manageable.

Upon arrival, she asked a staff member if Dr. Rashid Ismail, the faculty dean, had arrived. The woman shook her head, signaling no.

Relief washed over Nariman.

She decided to wait in her office until the dean arrived. But what she found inside—

Froze her in place.

Her office was completely trashed!

Yet, there was no clear evidence of deliberate sabotage.

Her eyes widened as she watched her hard work reduced to chaos. Tears welled up, but she quickly swallowed them, forcing herself to act.

She had to fix this before the dean arrived.

Unfortunately, her luck had run out.

He was already standing behind her.

His disappointed gaze cut through her like a blade before he turned away—to the office next door.

Dr. Ibrahim Askar’s office.

Neat. Organized. Perfect.

The fire inside her began to die. Her unshakable determination crumbled into despair. And that despair… twisted into a deep, burning resentment.

She listened in silence as praise was showered upon Dr. Ibrahim—words that should have been meant for her.

Minutes later, the announcement was made.

Dr. Ibrahim was promoted to General Coordinator.

The position that should have been hers—if not for this ridiculous incident.

⸻

Night fell.

Nariman was back to her grueling work, a cog in the ruthless capitalist machine.

Anger simmered within her, bubbling beneath the surface.

“Debts… exhausting work… a miserable salary… and not even a word of appreciation!”

She muttered to herself, furiously scribbling notes—until she suddenly flung her pen across the desk.

She felt as if she were about to explode.

Despair wrapped around her like a suffocating shroud, and she broke into silent sobs.

Because not everyone can endure this kind of pressure.

Not when their success is stolen right before their eyes.

She forced herself to pull it together. Taking a deep breath, she made her way to the restroom to wash her face.

With every splash of cold water, she tried to answer the question that had haunted her all day—

“Who sabotaged my office?”

And with every repetition of that question, the fire in her heart blazed hotter.

“The only one who had anything to gain from this… was Ibrahim! That filthy, honorless bastard would do anything to get that promotion! If only I could—”

Suddenly—

The restroom light flickered violently before going out completely.

A chilling gust of air swept through the room.

The door slammed shut behind her with a deafening bang.

She was plunged into darkness.

Nariman scrambled to open the door—but it wouldn’t budge.

Goosebumps prickled her skin. Then—

Two massive, glowing white eyes appeared in the mirror behind her.

“Your wish is mine to grant.”

A deep, bone-chilling voice echoed through the silence.

She wanted to scream—but her body refused to move.

Paralyzed.

The creature remained shrouded in darkness, only its piercing eyes visible, standing ominously in the corner of the restroom.

“I can give you what you desire, but first… let me show you something.”

A vision seized her.

She saw them.

Dr. Rashid and Dr. Ibrahim, standing together, discussing the promotion.

Dr. Ibrahim looked displeased.

“I can’t promote you, even if I wanted to,” the dean said. “I have no reason to deny Nariman. If I do, she could report me to the Higher University Council.”

Dr. Ibrahim smirked.

“Don’t worry. I have a plan. All I need you to do… is disable the security cameras.”

The dean hesitated. “How?”

“Leave that to me. The night-shift security guard, Uncle Atwa, will do the rest. He’ll wreck her office after she leaves, so you can walk in the next morning and see the mess for yourself. That way, you’ll have a perfect excuse to deny her the promotion.”

Nariman jolted back to reality.

The vision faded.

She could move again.

The creature spoke.

“Now that you know the truth… and I know what you seek… let’s make a deal.”

A hand emerged from the darkness, illuminated by the eerie glow of its eyes.

A massive, rotting blue hand, covered in coarse hair, ending in long, razor-sharp black claws—sharp enough to slice through steel like butter.

Nariman recoiled in horror.

The creature remained calm, its voice soothing.

“Don’t be afraid. I am here to restore justice… the justice you’ve waited for your entire life. The justice you longed for when your classmates bullied you. When you were falsely accused of stealing. When you spent years at that desk, breaking your back, only to have even the smallest reward ripped from you. Even a sip of water—”

Its voice wrapped around her like a predator circling its prey.

“Listen to me… just listen… I only—”

[khelo212]

The Illusion of Submission

It is said that a group of ants used to give a portion of their food to the locusts every harvest season. If the portion was ever slightly reduced, some of the ants would be severely punished to serve as an example to the others.

One day, a small ant asked its colony:

“Did the locusts plant the crops?”

They replied, “No.”

“Did the locusts harvest the crops?”

They replied, “No.”

“So why do we give it to them?” the little ant asked.

The colony realized something important and began working on a plan.

During the next harvest season, when the locusts came to collect their share of the food, they found neither the ants nor the food. They returned empty-handed, and before long, winter came, and the locusts starved to death.

[khelo212]

How to Maintain Control When You’re the Weakest

Throughout my life under an oppressive regime, I observed several methods employed by this system to prolong its rule.

I witnessed a time when the regime transitioned from dictatorship to democracy, only to revert to dictatorship once more. The key to the regime’s success lay in its ability to crush the opposition that had overthrown the previous system. The secret was the unity of the people against the tyrannical regime.

Thus, the oppressive system exerted all its efforts to divide the people, exploiting religious and cultural differences, and even differences in clothing styles. Here, the trap was sprung: people failed to accept their differing opinions and began to quarrel, forgetting the trap set for them. The corrupt regime then exploited the situation to ignite a civil war, presenting itself as the savior and portraying the opposition as the real villains who had destroyed their “pure” country.

Blinded by ignorance, society followed the regime, believing it to be a safe refuge—like a gazelle seeking shelter in the lion’s den.

[khelo212]

The “Era of Frivolity”

The era of frivolity is about stripping knowledge from minds and directing hearts towards animalistic desires, rendering humans devoid of reason. The purpose of this phase is to eliminate any intellectual resistance to ideas infiltrated through media and other institutions. The aim behind this is to steer the collective mindset towards a specific ideology, which may serve political purposes, such as eradicating the ideology adopted by a rival political movement.

As a result, the movement loses its followers, leading to a gradual decline in its power until it completely ceases to exist.