It was the beginning of a long day. (Waed) knew this even before his sniff
alarm woke him. The room responded to his brain waves by casting a light purple
shadow on the ceiling.
It's 4:27, said his robot. You're close to prayer time. Would you like me to
set up the ablution?
(Waed) closed his eyes and began counting his breaths. This was a habit his
master had taught him. When you wake in the middle of the night, say Allah ten
times while counting your breath and holding it. Either you'll wake with a
brighter mind or return to sleep.
My master and his quick instructions. May Allah bless him. After ten breaths,
(Waed)'s mind was clearer, the mental haze dissipating with his outbreath, and
he was ready to get up. Bring me the ablution, he said to his robot. Let's
start the day with a remembrance.
The remembrance prayer of his jammia, as taught by their master, is similar to
Orthodox Muslim prayer and breathing exercises. (Waed) didn't know whether this
was an accepted practice in other Islamic jammias, but he was eager to perform
it every morning.
Say Allah quickly in your mind while breathing through your nose. Keep your
tongue touching the roof of your mouth. After forty times, hold your breath.
Think of Fatihah with all its meanings. Think of Surat'ul Fajr in the morning
and Surat'ul Layl in the evening while holding your breath as long as you can.
When you can't hold it any longer, take a deep breath. Prostrate and pray while
the air is in your lungs and nour-ul-haq moves to your heart and mind. When you
begin to lose sense of yourself, rise from prostration and repeat another
round. Each round is called rakat in our prayers.
Be a snake: Ocean breathing and waving your head.
Be a dragon: Side to side, your tongue out and burn all your little worries.
Shake in your place. Dhikr. Side to side. Slowly, slowly. You will find your
center.
(Waed) prayed for four rakats this morning, praying for his children and wife,
his master and himself to see things as they are and act as he should
act. Finding the true path among many false paths was the most difficult
question.
He asked his robot to visualize his brain waves at the end of remembrance. Some
angelic creatures were revolving around his mind. He remembered his dream with
one such creature in a garden, drinking milk from flowers. He was with his
sheikh, and his sheikh had told him to see as if it would be shown to him, to
talk with his tongue, and to touch with his hands. The dream was becoming more
vivid now. He was about to return to sleep while sitting when his companion bot
touched him. Get up, your wife is waiting for you.
He and his wife (Shayma) lived in separate rooms. In their first three months,
she had asked if they could live happily in separate beds, and (Waed) had
accepted. He never asked the reason—if he was snoring or passing gas that made
her uncomfortable. When he wanted to spend time with her, he visited her room,
and they slept in their own beds when they finished their business.
(Waed) asked the robot to prepare coffee. How would you like it today, sir?
the robot asked. Prepare it like my sheikh suggested, with drops of lavender
oil and some black pepper, he said.
He heard their son (Naeem) crying. He knocked on (Shayma)'s door and peeked
inside. His son smiled at him. (Shayma) was deep asleep with her eyes and ears
covered by a band. She slept like this when the night was especially tiring
with their son. They had probably spent the night awake, he thought.
She doesn't like to feed the baby with tranquilizers. She feels ashamed for not
being a natural mother when (Naeem) sleeps with the newest drugs. When she
complains, (Waed) suggests she try them—so she has stopped waking him when
their son cries.
He talked with (Naeem) about breakfast. There was a nanny-bot supposed to track
blood sugar, but (Shayma) didn't like the bot either. What do you want? said
(Waed) to (Naeem). Banana, give me banana, said the son.
He turned on the nanny-bot and asked it to bring a banana to (Naeem). The robot
went to the kitchen and discussed the matter with the fridge. There were no
banana left at home, but they would arrive in a few minutes. Would you like some
strawberries instead?
While eating strawberries together, (Shayma) woke up. (Naeem) began to kiss his
mom—this affection was never shown to fathers. I'll leave, would you kiss me
too? (Naeem) thought for a bit and kissed him goodbye.
(Waed)'s office was about 500 meters from his home. The entire neighborhood was
built by the company he worked for, and the company was owned by the sheikh,
who was also the head of jammia. This made his life contained within a few
kilometers for much of the year. Most of his neighbors were also his friends
from the jammia and followed the same daily routines—beginning their day with
remembrance. Some of them did this in the mosque—that was also the jammia
center.
In the office, he sat with his assistant robot to plan the day. There were
several rental tenders, and he had to decide which were worthy to join. In
Zerkubia, all natural resources were rented. Anything built with them could be
rerented. (Waed)'s job was to supervise residential building projects and
decide what to build where.
The previous generation remembered when land was owned and sold. (Waed) didn't
remember those days but thought renting land for 49 years and owning it were no
different. The difference came when you wanted to sell it. In the old days,
when you sold a piece of land, you were no longer responsible for the land and
how it was used. When you rent it, the responsibility remains yours. It doesn't
end. It never ends.
A human person could not rent a piece of land. It
was always corporations, legal entities that could rent land and mines and
forests and sea. This meant that unless the entity was dissolved by the state,
there was always someone responsible for the land. They couldn't just leave the
land to someone and go away.
This made (Waed)'s job awfully restrictive. When you cannot sell something and
lose control—you have to think long-term. Tenants might pay for ten years at
once, that was the usual practice, but constructors were always there.
(Waed)'s company had thousands of tenants and also supplied some of the basic
living facilities provided by the state. Zerkubia didn't have any homeless. The
basic necessities were always provided, and one of those necessities was
housing. If you couldn't live in a robohome, as they called it these days, you
could register yourself for a basic housing unit and live there without paying
rent. Rent was paid by the government for these.
His habit when first arriving at the office was to check the results of
government tenders. The company planned to build a large neighborhood on the
skirts of Mount (Daee). They wanted to rent the land neighboring a forest. Law
required at least three offers from various companies for land tenders. This
one had four. (Waed) wanted to call these companies about price fixing, but he
didn't know the owner of one of the companies, and it was a serious crime to
communicate if he informed the police. They usually did. Any communication
between parties just before tenders usually ended badly.
He checked the results, but there was no decision yet. The Civil Buildings
Authority would probably ask for more conditions, like increasing the density
of forest or recycling something in the area. If prices were close, they
usually added more conditions.
While he was focused on the prices, asking the company bot about market price
conditions, he heard a loud cry from the next room. There is an important
matter. He ran to (Nafeez)'s room. His face was white. His eyes were fixed.
Are you OK? (Waed) asked. My father is dead, he said. Silence spilled into
the room. (Waed) hugged him.
(Nafeez) was the only son of Sheikh (Naeem). (Waed)
wasn't sure if that panic was caused by losing the linchpin of his life, the
role model, the father of them all--or losing the status he had enjoyed in his lifetime as the Sheikh's only son. Probably both.
Sheikh (Naeem) was dead. May Allah forgive his soul and show him the true
remembrance in his light.
(Waed) whispered hesitatingly how, when (Nafeez) began to tell. He was in
remembrance and didn't get up from the prostration. He began to sob while his
eyes were fixed on the wall. Like he always wanted. Drops from his eyes began
to flow. He closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands.
(Waed) felt a push of sorrow from his chest. The Sheikh wasn't someone he met
daily, but he was the head of jammia, and (Waed) knew he would be deeply
affected by his death. This wasn't the cause of the sorrow he was feeling
though. The world was broken now. The man he loved most was gone. He began to
cry.
He wanted to call (Shayma) to share the news. He asked his communicator to make
an emergency call to her. She answered quickly with I learned just now, may
Allah be pleased with him. (Waed) started crying without a word. May Allah
let him into his Paradise, he said repeatedly. (Shayma) wasn't crying. She was
silent, listening to her husband.
(Nafeez) touched his shoulder. Let's go to the jammia, he said. He should
show up as quickly as possible.
In the jammia building, the so-called Mosque of Seven Martyrs, there were close
to three hundred people, hugging each other and crying. Some of them were new
faces. The Sheikh had followers outside of his jammia too. The reddest eyes
were among the members though. Their guide in this life had disappeared in an
instant.
(Waed) spent some time among his friends. Everyone was telling stories of how
great the sheikh was, sharing dreams and experiences, some bordering on the
supernatural. (Waed) didn't have such stories except one, when the sheikh had
appeared during a remembrance to tell him (Shayma) was pregnant, but he
preferred to keep this to himself.
The mosque and neighborhood were getting more crowded. Sobs and cries filled
every corner. A darkness in the air made all people look darker.
The late sheikh (Naeem) had two daughters and a son. One daughter was married
to a rich steel factory owner from a different jammia. The other daughter was
within the jammia. Her husband was one of the students of the late sheikh and
probably would continue as the head of jammia. He wasn't a wealthy man though.
His son (Nafeez) looked desperate. He had never lived a life without the utmost
presence of their father. Without his guidance, he didn't know what would
happen to their fortune.
The crowd thickened. The funeral would take place after the Asr prayer, and the
mosque was already full of people. Communities were limited to ten thousand
registered members, but the Sheikh had maybe a few hundred thousand unofficial
followers.
(Waed) tried to stay close to (Nafeez), but prominent members of the community
surrounded him. Although nobody uttered a word about it, everyone knew what
everyone was thinking: What will happen to the community?
The Zerkubian communities law didn't describe a way to transition power in such
cases. It just describes a set of basic rules: Each community must have a
central place to gather and written regulations about what's expected from
members, how officials are elected, and how the government payments are spent.
The government paid a flat allowance for each member and expected these
allowances to be spent on education and cultural activities. Apart from these,
there were no strict laws to determine who could be elected and how this
election would happen. Individuals had full rights to leave their communities,
and it was thought that if people saw abuse or corruption in a community, they
could simply leave and join another or found a new one. The upper bound to
community size was another balancing factor to make sure that no single
community dominated society.
(Waed)'s community was special in that most communities didn't have such a
charismatic and indisputable leader. The Sheikh had never faced opposition,
never had issues with internal conflict, never had any other candidates
challenge him. He was the gate to the known and unknown dominions.
So when he died, there wasn't a clear successor in members' minds. The most
likely candidate would be someone from the Sheikh's family.
(Waed) looked around and saw a close friend sitting on a benchbot. Along with
people, there was an influx of bots to serve them. Almost everyone had a
butlerbot, but they were left at home. Bots were required to have a single
function, like serving food or transporting people. Butlerbots were more
general purpose but couldn't leave home. Benchbots were for serving food and
supplies for these kinds of occasions. You could sit on them and they would
provide food and drinks.
(Waed) sat on one of them. Eating some grapes made him feel better. These
benchbots are a newer model, his friend said. This fruit may be stored dry
and these make them fresh. Refreshers.
(Waed) continued to eat silently. His friend saw another acquaintance and stood
to hug him. He introduced (Waed) as Sheikh (Naeem)'s finance manager in the
construction firm. The man looked at him, May Allah show him boundless
mercy, he said to (Waed). He replied with an ameen. A grief started to rise
from his stomach, and he began to sob and cry.
He cried there as the crowd became one.
The rest of the day until the prayer went by in a pit of grief. Everyone was
tasting the bitterness in the air. Even if they weren't attached to the
deceased, they were mirroring each other's grief. Such is human nature.
(Waed) learned there was an ongoing negotiation about who would lead the
funeral prayer. It would be a symbolic nudge for the person to lead the
community. There were rumors that (Nafeez) insisted on leading his father's
funeral. There were elders in the community who might be against this. This is
not a community that endorses hereditary leadership. I don't claim I received
my noor from my father's lineage to the Prophet, the late sheikh had once
said. There were such Muslim communities in Zerkubia, but this wasn't one of
them.
(Waed) waited for the prayer time. At 15:00 sharp, a deep voice began to call.
The call included the name of the sheikh: We witness that (Naeem) is a friend
of God. A collective cry was heard when this sentence was spoken.
There was a mobile pulpit next to the coffin. Some of the community elders came
forward and spoke. They shared the sheikh's wisdom. Endless wisdom, they said.
Yet it had ended. Now that wisdom looked for another owner, and (Waed) saw how
the most agreeable person could become a jerk when it came to power and
politics.
(Waed) listened to all the talks, confirming their value in the eyes of the
late sheikh. He knew the sheikh better than most of these folks, but he didn't
have any such stories to tell. Maybe it was because of his closer knowledge
that he had no stories to tell. You had to have a distant gaze to tell stories
about a person.
They finally got up with the last call to prayer.
Everyone stood up. Lines emerged from the chaos. (Waed) wondered who would lead
the prayer. His curiosity was satisfied in a moment. It wasn't (Nafeez) or his
brother-in-law. A very feeble and weak voice began, as if humming: For our
master, remembering his deeds, may his eternal secret shine in the hereafter.
The Imam said Allahu Akbar and the prayer began. It was the usual funeral
prayer. The late sheikh had modifications for all Islamic traditions but not
for the funeral prayer. He had led these prayers for closer members of the
community, but that wasn't a frequent occasion.
The prayer ended quickly. Sobbing and cries continued afterward. There was a
distant cry from the women's gathering. Someone had fainted, and a doctor and
their robots were quickly at her side.
In usual circumstances, no human touched a body after death. It was all robots
handling the deceased. This time, however, people wanted to touch the coffin.
It began to swim on top of a sea of his followers.
The cemetery for the community was on the skirts of the land (Waed) had been
looking at for auction. Now the beloved sheikh's tomb would be built next to
it. The center of the cemetery had been kept empty. Although there were no
clear instructions from the sheikh, people had assumed that was his spot. Now
they were going to bury him, wrapped in silk, in that center. (Waed) began to
think about who could build a tomb; they knew a few good architects, but who
would be suitable?
The crowd took their robotaxis to the cemetery. Some richer ones brought their
personal helis too, but there was no close helipad near the cemetery, so they
would have to take off from another place.
When they arrived at the cemetery, they saw ten or so undertaker robots. The
grave was already dug, and they were waiting for the sheikh's casket. When the
funeral car appeared, they opened it. Family members were in another car. All
had circled around the grave.
The Imam asked family members to touch the casket one last time. Robots took
over the casket and lowered it into the hole.
First the family, then the rest of the community lined up to throw one last
fist of soil into the grave. Usually, robots would do this job very quickly,
but this time the crowd was large enough.
People were whispering prayers while taking a fist of soil and throwing it into
the grave. (Waed) also threw one. "May we meet in paradise, Sheikh," he thought
as he threw the soil.
He attached himself to another line, this time for condolences. He hugged
(Nafeez). Both cried a few seconds. (Nafeez) seemed much tired and lonelier
than the morning. (Waed) also said some words without any specific meaning to
sheikh's daughters and son-in-laws. They didn't look as tired as (Nafeez).
(Waed) decided there is nothing to do in the cemetery. There may be more
rituals in coming days but it's enough for him and his introverted temperament
having desire to hide from crowds. He went to a robotaxi and asked to be taken
to home.
(Shayma) was at home. Looking sad but not devastated. He asked if she joined to
the funeral. I went to the mosque and returned. Little one was nervous she
said. He nodded. How is (Nafeez) she asked. Devastated, of course he said.
Of course she replied with. All his world is now gone.
Do you think they'll sell the company? he asked as if trying to change the
topic amateurishly.
Why? she said. A bit hesitated.
You know, now the state owns the company. (Nafeez) is just another employee
like me. He may not want to stay anymore.
Someone close may buy. The rich man, you know, the bald with a blond hair?
Bald with a blond hair is an idiom for people not liked but respected because
of their status.
I don't think that will prevent (Nafeez) to exit. She was watching his face
closely. Trying to find a remark.
Maybe it will be sold to employers?
Zerkubian law allowed employers to buy a company with 80% of the highest bid.
Who? asked (Waed). How can we buy a company this big? We're not that many
and none of us have that level of money.
So, the sheikh didn't pay you much and he hoarded all the income within the
company, it looks. It was a strange sentence to hear from (Shayma) especially
after the funeral. (Waed) felt a cold hand rubbing his back.
We can't say that. We were paid in market terms. He didn't even pay more to
his son.
He couldn't actually, you know, it's a crime and any one of you can whisper
this to police.
(Waed) was trying to understand why she's so mean today. Why can't she wait a
few more days at least.
In the old days, there was this inheritance law, you know. When someone dies
their children would have everything they have. It's said fights between
siblings start even before the rigor mortis. I feel the same for you. Why can't
you be more respectful for the man who died just this morning?
(Shayma) smiled. Do you think it's not started? I was there for a few hours and
all the talk between women were about who will replace the sheikh. I heard at
least four plausible names. You think this is different?
(Waed) didn't want to start a fight, especially on this day where he's feeling
his shoulders are in pain from the questions. He said, hesistantly, in the
earlier times, you know, people would determine this themselves. It's actually
part of our religion. Dead has rights on their properties and can arrange what
will happen to their children after they die.
(Shayma) smiled again. Religious law decreed when there was no state, no
industry, no means of mass communication. Inheritance laws perpetuated because
they provided a stable but ultimately exploitative way to keep economical power
in the hands of a few people.
So what do you propose as an alternative? said (Waed). In the beginning
there was nothing and when we had to build up this civilization. We had to make
sure bad and dirty jobs are taken care of. Now that perpetuates. In the form of
classes. We can't get rid of classes, you know.
I know. I know said (Shayma). We can understand why these classes have arisen in history. The
question is not that though. And I can also understand why these are natural
to an extent. We can't get rid of classes, but we can organize ourselves so
that the class divisions are not set in stone.
People have upward mobility in most of the societies, if you mean that he said.
(Shayma) took a breath. Yes, we have class mobility but it's so rare that it's a kind of heroic story
to overcome class barriers. It's certainly possible for a worker's son to be
rich but that doesn't mean this is predictable. Average human can't beat their
class barriers easily.
He is silent. Nodding.
She took another breath. The goal of social change should be to cultivate people into the best roles
possible. Clans, classes, monarchy, property rights, and all law is aimed
towards this.
I don't understand this, he said. What's the role of monarchy in this
cultivation you tell?
Her breaths are solid. Instead of trying to find the best governor in all the country, you try to
assign this role to a person that you know from childhood. It allows to select
the next governor without elections, without war, without any struggle. When a
king dies, we know who will replace him. That's saving a lot of resources, you
know.
Ah, I see. You see royalty as a class and they are cultivated to govern people.
This saves resources yes. He's agreeable.
She's unstoppable. But we now have more resources to select better governors among people. When
you have smaller populations, the pool that you select the governors cannot be
large anyway. If there are more candidates and these candidates agree on a
game to select the next governor, we can have better governors who understand
people more than a king.
He looked directly to her face. I see your point. I can't see how this is related with our society, though.
She raised her index finger as if pointing a traffic sign. I see inheritance as a relic from those days when we assign roles to people
from birth.
He saw the sign. So you're fine (Naeem) losing his job and lose everything he has just because
his father has died.
Do you think he lost? I don't think he lost at all. He was the only son of a
wealthy and prominent man and now he has all those connections with him. I
believe we'll see him just as wealthy in a few years she said.
I don't think he can do this. He doesn't have that charisma our late sheikh
had. He will be just like me, working as a manager of the company, following
government orders. He started to think his own position now.
I heard he'll leave from the company if his son-in-law cannot bid for it she said.
He answered quickly. No one can buy the company in its entirety. It will be split into three I
believe.
(Shayma) thought a bit. Yes, it's large but I think it's possible to buy it.
I hope a Muslim buys it, said (Waed). He was hesitant to go on. I hope
someone from the community.
Why do you think it's better to have a Muslim owner? said (Shayma). Does it
matter?
I'll work more gladly for a Muslim. I want Muslims to become richer said (Waed)
Most richer people are conservative anyway. They can be Christians or
Buddhists, and they practice usually. We have many Atheist or non-religious
communities but richer people avoid to be a member of them. Why do you think
so? asked (Shayma).
(Waed) thought a bit. I noticed that too. Most of the other companies we
compete have a religious affiliation. It may be about community support or
lifestyle.
Would you live your work if someone from an Atheist community buys the
company?
Most likely. I think we can establish our company with (Nafeez) and work for
our own then. Most people from the company will join us.
Probably the new owner will consider this, right? Buying shares of a company
through Redistribution is one thing, keeping that company running is another.
This may explain why religious communities are in better standing to control
companies. An Atheist boss will likely have difficulty to find people to work
with.
There are many Atheist communities and I don't think most religious folks will
have a problem with an Atheist owner, though said (Waed).
I don't think that matters much. Nobody likes to work for someone outside of their community.
They can work when they need money said (Waed).
In the olden times, people had to put up with their bosses otherwise they'd
lose all their economical status. But these days, in Zerkubia, I don't think
that applies anymore. You can quit your job and we know we can live without
losing much. Basics are free. said (Shayma).
Right. But basic needs are basic, you know. We want many other things.
(Shayma) said without pause, But we want those not that much. You wouldn't work for someone you don't respect even they pay double, triple the amount you receive now, right?
Right. I've got an offer last year you know and I rejected not to work for a person from another community.
You can just quit, found another company and start working. If you cannot start a new business, who can?
(Waed) was thoughtful. He was thinking whether it would be appropriate just to start a new company, pulling some of the current company's customers. Maybe he can offer a partnership to (Nafeez) for this. Everyone has a credit score to start a business and government grants a few years of managerial expenses to a start up. Government policy is to have smaller cooperating companies.
Everyone starts a new company these days. Government supports new businesses and I don't know how can you fail with a new company.
Would you help me in this asked (Waed). He was looking for a way to change the topic, at least focusing on (Shayma).
How responded (Shayma). It's not something she was expecting.
When the little man grows up of course. Maybe in a year or so? We can have an office and you can manage people. I can manage government side of the business and you can manage the people side.
She didn't respond. She said maybe after some time. Then they heard (Naeem) crying. She stood up and went to his room.
(Waed) started to take some notes about the customers they can pull and the land tenders he can grab. May Allah grant the late Sheikh paradise, he wouldn't want me to attach to this company after his death.
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