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@walid-the-engineer
"BELIEVE AT ANY COST"
BIRTH NAME: Walid Hasan Farsakh NICKNAME: Liddy AGE: 59 years old APPEARANCE: 24 years old GENDER/PRONOUNS: non-binary, he/they DATE OF BIRTH: 27th of September, 1961 NATIONALITY: Palestinian FROM: Aqaba, Jordan ON THE ISLAND SINCE: February 1986 OCCUPATION: Senior Engineer
Biography | Stats | Wanted/Established Connections
"Right, well that's probably because there innt many who like you, is there," Emre pointed out, with a one-shoulder shrug. "Likely not many people you much like either, innit. So it goes both ways. You don't got to like me either, if that suits you. But I am going to look out for you anyway." And maybe the noble reason was because of the promise he made to Ankita. And the more accurate reason was because without and Iyaz to mind constantly, Emre wasn't sure what else he was supposed to do with his life. He had to look after someone. Walid was a perfect candidate.
Emre stood up then, taking his tea with him. "Right, let's find us a proper little room for prayers then. Where've you even been sleeping in here?" If Walid had been sleeping at all. "You alright with leaving the Tower for a spell afterwards? Just to pop over to the canteen, get you some food and that, yeah?"
He wasn't sure if Walid would be willing to leave the Tower, or if it would make them spiral into a panic. One step at a time, but Emre was good at pushing; at least he liked to think so.
A small, fond smile. "Right, well. Getting along don't laways mean puppies and rainbows, innit. Me and Melz, we got along because we was both two peas in a pod. Both of us angry and bossy and dramatic. Passionate, bruv. We was passionate. Suppose to other people it might look like we didn't get on." As for why the island chos that memory, Emre shook his head. "Dunno. It always boils down to family though, innit. Family you got, family lost."
He then looked at Walid. "What happened, with your mum's ghost?"
Walid shrugged, though in all honesty: it did bother them a little bit. But just a little, and usually just for a few minutes a day before they got distracted or decided that they didn't like that many people either. It was much easier to just focus on themselves and everything they had to do. And there was so much to do!
They narrowed their eyes and looked at Emre. Did they like him? They didn't really know what that meant, in the grand scheme of things. They did not mind Emre's company, or to talk to him, so perhaps that was what that meant. After all, they felt the same with their siblings, and with Kaz when there were drugs involved. "I like you," he decided. "I don't like hanging out with people I don't like."
Walid stood and followed, still hunching their shoulders. "Under my desk," they said, as if that was the most natural place to sleep. "I have a sleeping mat there." And the buzzing of the machines always lulled them to sleep. "Okay." His engineers could technically function without him, he could take a vacation and upon returning he'd find everything in check - as long as no new people arrived while he was gone. He'd trained them all well enough, and gotten angry enough times too. "I'm not that hungry."
Didn't mean he liked leaving the tower though. Too many secrets still to figure out.
"That doesn't sound nice," Walid decided. If anything, once he had a significant other, he wanted someone who was nice to him, and he'd be nice in return. And they'd get along. He figured his mom and his dad did. He bit the inside of his mouth. "Possibly," he answered.
At the question, Walid sought another way to avoid having to answer it, but instead they went for the vaguest one. "She told me to go through the portal and that I'd be alright, so I did."
"And then I had a memory of home, and that was it. I jumped right back through as fast as I could, but she was gone."
"Obvi you can look after yourself, been doing it all these years innit. What's the harm in someone else looking out for you, hm? Is it so wrong?" Emre persisted, slightly scolding like an adult child might do with their elderly parent. "Right. If you don't want me about just tell me. I'll bugger off."
Emre shook his head and clucked his tongue. "You what. Living off vending machine cup noodles and Red Bulls, then? Bruv, that's no way to live. You've got to get some real food in you." Emre cupped his hands around his mug of tea, looking somewhat moody and cloudy, until he came up with a solution. "Right. Tiffins. I'll bring you tiffins with nosh from the canteen."
He sipped his tea, and settled back in his seat, regarding Walid. Now that Emre had Walid here, he felt he could relax. "We can set up a prayer room in the Tower then, yeah. That'll do. If you can find qibla, that'd do just fine."
Emre took another sip of tea. He hadn't yet tried to make chai the way Walid's mum had made it, but now that Emre had found Walid...
"Mine was absolutely brutal. One of the worst memories I'd had with Melody. Big row, she stomped out. With good reason, I was being a dickhead to her. Dunno why it couldn't have been something nice to say goodbye on. Bloody island."
Walid made a face, unsure of how to react to change Emre’s mind on that. Mostly trying not to come off as an old man again. “I don’t mind having you about,” he said, forcefully, his ego still a bit hurt by the idea that he was doing things wrong. “I’m just not used to people wanting to know where I am… people who aren’t the other engineers.” Even if those also tended to run around questioning where their manager was at times.
They shrugged, trying to evade the question. Aside from water, tea, and the occasional coffee… Walid wondered if he’d even eaten the past few days. Maybe a laying-about snack here and there, or cookies when they were offered. “Tiffins with nosh?” He shouldn’t be questioning that, just accept it, and wait for it to appear on the table. Emre seemed to settle on the idea that he needed to take care of Walid, and Walid was too proud to admit that maybe he was right.
Walid nodded, pulling his knees in even more as he sat, making himself as small as could be. “I can find qibla,” he assured Emre. Easily enough. Having a prayer room at the tower would feel a bit weird, but he was sure he could get over it. He could make it work. He tried to tell himself that he could do better and actually take care of other people as well, or at least acknowledge them. It was a complete 180 however.
“Oh…” they pushed their shoulders together. “Why would the island pick that memory? It didn’t seem like you two really got along on the island.” He didn’t dare to say that he didn’t like Melody. But he was quick to judge. His mother had been so worried about Melody after they went their own ways. She always gave everyone the benefit of the doubt.
"You wouldn't be the first, innit," Emre said ominously, but Walid had to know...or maybe not. Maybe Walid remaining bottled up in the Tower for decades meant they weren't always privvy to island news. Emre, on the other hand, had made people his business. At the point of arrival, it was a survival tactic: know everyone (whilst trusting no one), so Emre knew best how to keep Iyaz safe and alive.
But Iyaz was gone, now. "Some people can't manage life on the island so they end it. For one reason or another innit." Emre waited by the heating kettle, and gave Walid a look. "I promised her I'd look after you." Iyaz was gone and Walid was decades older than Emre, but. Emre's instinct was hardpressed to fade; he needed someone to mind, needed someone to need him. And maybe that was what Ankita had noticed about Emre, when she'd made him promise.
"You should be sorry," Emre groused. "I don't see you at the dorms, didn't see you here, not at the canteen. Dunno if you ever wander anywhere else on this bloody island. Didn't think you ever used the teleports..." Especially not after they were all forced to go through the teleports to get rid of their respective ghosts. Emre poured himself a cup and came to refill Walid's.
"Right. Was it a good memory at least? Through the teleport, with your mum."
Walid frowned. Wouldn’t be the first. They’d never gotten close enough to people that they actually missed their presence, and if they did disappear, they usually thought it was because the Island had sent them back. He simply couldn’t cope with the idea of people actually dying on the island. So he tried to ignore those words. They bit their lip, but didn’t comment, they wanted to say that it was impossible, that the island wouldn’t allow that, that the tower would send those people back. But maybe it was sometimes too late, or maybe it saw it as mercy.
“I can look after myself,” Walid said, in perfect old man fashion. He didn’t need people buzzing around him and taking care of him. Although he had liked his mother doing that, now that she was gone, he could do it himself again. He had learned to cope.
“I haven’t been anywhere but the tower,” they said. If only to inform Emre that they really hadn’t been anywhere to off themself. They had always enjoyed the solitude of the tower, but now it was like a warm blanket as well, something to pull them in. Every time they threw the blanket off, they felt cold, they felt uneasy, they wanted to go back. Even now they felt cold.
The question surprised them. It had been a memory that Walid had not wished to share, they were sure people had their own memories and their own reasons to share them, but thinking about the memory meant accepting their mom was gone. And accepting that Walid had practically forgotten about her for the first few years they were on the island. It meant accepting that they were just a son, and that as a son, and as the youngest at that, they had never been capable of seeing how much their family had done for them, and how much he’d missed simply because he’d been in his own world. It set all their other memories, however hazy, in a different perspective. And it filled their heart with pain. “It was alright,” they answered, hugging their legs even closer. “How was yours?”
The few other workers who were in the small breakroom scurried out - if not when Emre started yelling in Urdu, then definitely when Walid shot out of their seat. Fury matching fury, but strangely harmless. Just hurt; or in Emre's case, worried.
So when Walid stood up to him and delivered the most officious and authoritative response the small bloke could muster, Emre did stand down. Still heated, but volume lower and in English again.
"I'm sorry Uncle-ji," Emre started, eyes still round with liquid fire. "I've been worried, alright? Worried you'd gone off somewhere and bloody offed yourself, after...." After the ghosts had to disappear through the teleports. No Ankita hovered by Walid, no scent of chai. She was gone, and Walid relived some memory of her, like he had with Melody, like Kaz had with Ani.
"Only way I knew you wasn't dead, is because them other engineers tell me they've chatted with you. They chat with you, but I never see you! Ya Allah, we should be praying together innit. You bloody disappeared on me! What."
Emre backed further down into a sulk now, as he stalked to the kettle to see if there was any water in it. "Right. And I promised her I'd look out for you and all, you muppet."
Walid had not thought that it would work. Sure, it had worked before, on other people, but those seemed to be more confused by their attempt to show their age than anything else. And he always felt terrible afterwards, he wasn’t made for shouting. But he felt small and he felt insignificant and he felt lonely. A loneliness they hadn’t felt before, maybe because they’d stayed so far from the truth, from their past. They’d cut all ties, all in the name of science. And then the tower gave them something back, but only for a little while. Surely it had a meaning, there was a reason for it.
Yet all Walid wanted to do was cry.
“Offed myself?” They frowned, face torn into a grimace. It sounded ballistic, yet… they found that maybe… maybe somewhere in the back of their mind, that had been an option at a point. It would’ve been easier. It meant seeing their mom again, though she’d scold them probably, about leaving their duty, about cutting their life short - never having been able to understand he wasn’t twenty-four anymore.
“I–” They gritted their teeth together. “I’m sorry.” They sat back down, feeling defeated. They didn’t know how to talk, had never been taught how to express their own grief, how to speak of these inner feelings. They were too immense, too big, they couldn’t get them out, they got stuck in their throat.
They placed their feet on the chair and hugged their legs against their chest. “There has been work to do,” they said, incapable of saying more.
Perhaps they and Walid had more in common than they had first anticipated. The mention of God - or Allah - drew Micaiah's attention just as much as the mention of magic did. For them, magic had always been associated with either fictions or some more unsavory things. While the Eyes of Eden didn't quite believe in it, it was also mostly associated with wiccans and their blasphemous or downright satanic practices. To hear it put in such a pragmatic and also religious context surprised Micaiah. As did the revelation that Walid believed that the tower was alive. "The tower is alive?" Micaiah asked, now unable to hide their surprise and that slight note of disbelief. He shook his head, quickly putting on an apologetic smile. "Sorry. That just surprised me a little. I never considered that the tower could be a living thing. It's an interesting theory." He cast a glance around, almost feeling the urge to press the palm of his hand against the smooth walls and see if he could feel a pulse.
"I think the tower is created by God too. Though I don't personally think it's alive, if I'm honest." He offered another apologetic smile. "I believe God put us on this island for a reason. Everyone of us, even if it might not be clear what that personal purpose is just yet. I never thought about the tower much, if I'm honest. I was more busy trying to figure out what I was supposed to do here but... I'm starting to believe it's all intertwined."
He took a soft breath, trying to clear up their thoughts a little. His eyes trailed over the structure, it's slopes and arches and windows. "Maybe it's a tool. Meant to allow us to fulfill our purpose. Help the world, the people in it, find some sort of salvation in the chaos that this world is in right now. Why else would we be allowed to go out into the world and survey it, if not to help the people?" He realized he was more talking to himself than Walid. Using the other person as a sounding board wasn't why he'd come to them.
"Sorry. I got caught up a little there. I've been trying to sort some things out recently."
Walid nodded. It wasn’t a new thought to them and neither was it something that had surprised him when he’d first thought of it. It worked, in many ways, many layers. It wasn’t a theory either. Walid saw parts of the tower that others didn’t, they got places that weren’t on the map for anyone else. They had spoken with the tower so often. “I’ve spoken to it,” they admitted. Nutjob indeed. Often under the influence of some drug or other that Kaz brought them, they’d had many conversations with the tower, many times where they’d requested to hear more, to help more, and plenty of instances where they had been offered information, a chance to fix things that hadn’t yet broken.
Yet, even if they didn’t agree on that point, Micaiah did share Walid’s belief that it was Allah who put them all there, who had ensured they’d end up on the island, and who’d created the tower. “Perhaps its’ a machine,” they suggested, because machines they could understand, and the tower was beyond their understanding, but to say it was something they could figure out made them feel both comfortable and sick.
Walid was ready to answer, to give their own theories, when the other apologised. They looked slightly jarred, then caught themself. They weren’t new to speaking thoughts out loud, it was how they got their name among the people on the island, it was why people tended to keep a distance from them. Not that they minded, but it was nice to talk with someone who also couldn’t think of anyone else being behind this than Allah. “Helping, yes,” they said, deciding to ignore the fact that the other seemed uncomfortable about rambling. They needed to ramble too, they needed a sounding board just as much, but most importantly: they needed someone to agree. “It feels like more, doesn’t it? The tower’s shifts, that’s our main directive, so there has to be something about what we catalogue that plays a role. Are we creating some kind of database for humanity? Are we keeping it safe so the world can use it all once it’s rebuild?”
Inspite of the horrific thing that had just started chasing them down, Orion felt calm. His heart beat steady in his chest as he watched Walid turn heel and start running, barely escaping the tendril reaching out to grab him. As soon as the other person bolted, Orion followed suit. He'd been in enough situations like this to keep his cool - running for your life wasn't too uncommon among the raiders. He remembered the situation on the ship, or the lake monster all too well. It was good that he remained calm, because he could figure that Walid didn't.
Orion managed to follow after them, deliberately staying behind them in the narrow hallway. The dim light revealed a network of fleshy tentacles all across the ceiling. Breaking out from the ceiling and raining down plaster on them. "Keep going. I'm right behind you." Orion said, voice strained with the effort of running. Suddenly, something wrapped around his arm and tightened, yanking him back. For one moment, Orion was trapped, pulled backwards towards the writhing mess of vines, then he managed to shrug off his jacket and writhe out of that grip.
"Keep going." Orion ordered, before reaching out and grabbing Walid by the scruff of their jacket, yanking them back just in time as another tentacle broke out of the wall in front of them and blocked their path. Pulling Walid against himself, Orion slipped the knife out of his belt and slashed out. It didn't cut through the entire thing, but it was enough - the tentacle writhed, spraying both of them with viscous black blood before retreating into the wall. Orion didn't wait for it to come back, instead pushing Walid forward. "To your left. Up the staircase."
Walid was in hell, there was no other way to see it. The tendrils could almost be felt behind them, and Orion shouting at them to keep going was in fact the only thing that kept them going, because they needed someone to push them forward, or else they would become frozen in place. They felt incredibly on edge, shaking as they ran. They could hear Orion behind them, were too aware of what exactly was happening there, listening to the sounds. And clearly Orion wasn’t having an easy time with it.
They looked over their shoulder to watch him getting grabbed, then getting loose, almost becoming dinner themself, before speeding forward again. Then a huge tendril broke out in front of them, at the same time that something - Orion luckily - grabbed their jacket and pulled them backwards. They felt like they were in a rollercoaster, being pulled every which way.
The staircase was mentioned, and Walid rushed up it. Tendrils shout out through the floor below them, but these were tiny in comparison, making it easy for them to jump over, even if they lost their footing a few times. What was this thing?
They could barely remember how many stairs they’d descended, and they almost got too hopeful thinking that the outside world was on the other end of this. Instead they got into another open room with servers. Tendrils had wrapped themselves around the old machinery, pulsating against the old tech.
“Fi Amanillah,” they said.
Technically, Emre knew Walid would cling to the Tower. Walid stopped sleeping in the dorms, so Emre never saw him there. But the Tower was their proudest achievement of work and care on the island; a place his ammi probably looked wondrous and so proud of Walid as well. It didn't take a sleuth to conclude Walid's whereabouts, now that the ghosts had disappeared through the teleports.
But the problem was...Emre couldn't find Walid in the Flower Tower either. It shouldn't be difficult - follow the fixes. Only whenever there was a repair in the Tower, it was a handful of other nerds doing the repairs, no Walid in sight.
That was when Emre got worried, but stupid him had neglected to get Walid's phone number, all this time. He'd just took it for granted he'd see Walid at the dorms or at the Tower.
The morning Emre strode into the Tower breakroom to have a toast, and instead found Walid, was like a pressure cooker releasing.
"Oi!" Emre barked, and beelined to Walid. "The fuck is wrong with you? Where the fuck have you been, you -" he let out a string of Urdu. Even if Walid didn't understand, Emre's aggressiveness made it evident.
Walid’s turn was instant, luckily for their body and the island because they were young enough not to feel all the cartridge snap against the intensity of the movement. It suddenly felt like all eyes were on them, though there weren't that many eyes to have, but having a red-faced Emre stand over them, barking in a language that Walid didn’t understand but could decipher enough of - and the fact that there was shouting - to get an idea of what was meant. They slightly deflated, before remembering that they were the older person here. Emre could shout all he wanted, but Walid had every right to do what he wanted to do.
They stood, which didn’t look all that impressive, even if they wanted to tower over anyone, they simply didn’t have the look for it: they were tiny, with curly hair, baby cheeks, big eyes, nobody would be much impressed if they tried to be edgy.
“I will not be shouted at!” they said, channelling their inner old-man. “I deserve some respect!” Okay, going slightly off key there. It also didn’t help that as they said it, their face was starting to grow hot, and their eyes felt slightly irritated. They were in their eighties, this wasn’t a time to be crying.
The overhead fluorescent lights flickered back to life, lighting them up and flickering back off a few times before finally properly starting to hum. Orion stood there, blinking at- well, whatever it was. In his time raiding, Orion was sure he'd never seen anything quite like it. Then again, that was a somewhat frequent occurrence, ever since the world ended. But this seemed strange in a different way. A pink, fleshy mass firmly was lodged inside the half-open fuse box. It didn't look like anything living Orion had ever seen, no anthropromorphic features, nothing recognizable. Still, it was oulsating, as if there was a heart inside of it beating in a steady rhythm. Thick, similarly colored tendrils snaked alongside the walls, disappearing into cracked away mortar, holes in the wall and ceiling, pipes, anything that provided an opening. As if it had dug to get into the insides of the building.
Over the course of his life, Orion had developed a keen sense for when danger was closing in.And right now, there was that distinct prickle at the back of his neck that told him that something was absolutely, immediately off. He stepped back just in time to avoid one of the tendrils snapping around his ankle. The mass shivered, as if it'd been brought back to life, awoken from hibernation by the light flooding in.
"Run." Orion ordered Walid, his voice calm but authoratuve as the room began moving around them, trickles of stone and mortar raining down as the trendrils moved, starting towards them with a slow but steadily increasing speed. Whatever this was, being caught likely wouldn't end well.
Happy to have the light on - and that it held - Walid wrapped himself in hope for a moment, decided that this was perfect. They’d be able to scare whatever was there away.
That was until they turned to face that which the ‘whatever’ was. And felt dread rush to their heart. Oh. They stood frozen to their spot as they watched the creature, whatever it was. Their mind tried to describe it, but they felt like they couldn’t really grasp its meaning. A monster, that was certain, but what kind…
They were hopelessly fucked.
Though as soon as Orion spoke, Walid’s feet finally listened, and they sped out of the door, tears running down their face, worried they might get buried underneath the rumble. Goodbye generator, that one certainly wouldn’t survive this.
They tripped over their own feet in the hallway, the light was less vibrant in the hallway, and they felt suddenly unable to remember the way back. However, in the light, they could see that the tendrils weren’t just in the other room.
@emreakbar
Walid wasn’t happy with their mom gone. Even if they hadn’t had her around for a long while, it was simply odd. There had been a real chance of them finally getting to create some closure, to have her in their life for just a little while after they’d disappeared so many decades before. For a moment, they almost felt like a kid again.
But then it was time to say goodbye. A goodbye they’d never had before, and one that should’ve been incredibly hard if not for how objective and truthful their mom was. ‘We’ll see each other again, beta,’ she’d said before he went through to the teleporter and returned without her there.
Afterwards, Walid had thrown himself into work and been even less available than ever before. If there were specific requests, he let his troops deal with it. If it was tasks outside of the tower, he sent someone else. He only left the tower for food and perhaps to sleep - though the little bedroll in his office worked just as well.
The island might keep him young, but it certainly didn’t erase the bags under his eyes and the way his fingers were calloused and dry. He sat down with his breakfast in the main dining area, legs pulled up, hugging his knees to his chest as he poked the egg, watching with narrowed eyes as the egg yolk flowed down over his piece of toast.
They felt like they were alone again.
"Wa iyyaki, Ankita-Auntie," Emre responded instinctively, surging with joy. Being so familiar and easily trusting of a virtual stranger had become so rare; a childish trait that Emre had to abandon when his parents had abandoned them. But Ankita was everything that reminded Emre of happier, secure, comforting times. It was almost overwhelming and painful...but painful in a good way.
He just nodded, passive and agreeable to Ankita's mom-lecture. So wise, so steady in her words - why would Emre question? He felt like a mere boy in her presence and he had no qualms about it. Seeing Walid's petulant little pout that rounded their face even more, confirmed that Walid was the same. Bloke was decades older than Emre; but around mummy, Walid became a little child.
Melody noticed it too, found it amusing and unsurprising that they were both so starry-eyed around the motherly ghost. "Boys and their mums," she softly chortled to herself, her ghostly voice buzzing. "And it was an accident, Walid! Sorry, suppose you don't make mistakes! Only silly girls like me then." She stuck her tongue out at Walid, but flapped her hands like a disgruntled duck flapping its wings, as Emre tried to appeal to her.
Puzzled, Emre wasn't sure what had transpired between Walid and Melody. He'd been too swaddled and infatuated by Ankita, ignorant of any conflict between his ghost and Walid. And then Ankita was there to smooth everything over - she pet her beloved child, address Emre with more instructions (which of course by this point, Ankita could tell Emre to leap off a cliff, and he eagerly would), and then soothe Melody. All in one unstoppable, graceful flourish.
Melody smiled shyly at Ankita and nodded. "Yeah, alright. Cheers, Miss," she said, as if she was respectfully addressing a teacher at school. Melody looked back at Walid. "Sorry for ruining everything, mate."
"I'm talking some more chai though!" Emre exclaimed, nabbing his cup. "Right - chat with you later Walid, yeah? You...look after your mum. Auntie...khuda hafiz." And he added a sentimental Urdu version of: "I will miss you."
Emre herded Melody out of the tower, shamelessly looking back to smile at Ankita as he went.
Ankita smiled, though she didn't address Melody direction, she simply looked at her son, who showed no signs of wanting to apologise. She had known long ago that whenever things got technical, Walid tended to get stuck in his own mind.
All she could do was set the correct example and to treat everyone around her well. "As-salamu alaykum," she said to the both of them before they left, Walid to her side repeating it in earnest. "It's alright, I hope you feel better soon," he added, while the need arose to use the phrases his mother and Emre were so comfortable with, the knowledge simply wasn't there. Clearly all taken over by technical terms.
"See you later," they told Emre, before their mother could become unbearable - she surely loved all the praise and love she was getting - and made sure she was the one who got the last word. "Please do, take as much chai as you like," she called after Emre in Urdu. "Duaon kay sarh rukhsat karta hun."
Walid looked at their mother and remained in awe of her, much like Emre. Though they knew it couldn't last, this would end at some point. They smiled at their mom, and tried to think of something they could do with her. "Do you want to see the projects I'm working on?"
She turned to him. "Of course, Beta."
end.
Safe to say Walid's interest was piqued. In Kaz's not so humble opinion, magic was too simplistic of a answer. The crystals were so much more, too much more. Epiphanies and pain, rapture and repulsion. Little myths brought to life.
Walid's reaction reconfirmed everything Kaz had thought of the small rocks prior. He already felt a sharp shift in the palm of his hand, the crystals readying to show Kaz a new map and begin another journey.
"They do other things, yeah. One can start fires. Another split a thick piece of granite like it was nothing. Make noise. Shine a light in the dark." Some held figures inside. All of them talked to Kaz.
"Always wondered how some would react in here. You'll let me bring more by, yeah?"
Walid's eyes were filled with excitement at the possiblities for those stones, and all the things they could experiment. They nodded along, still fixated on the water one. Perhaps they were also far too stoned, interest piqued because their mind was mellow and could focuss, because there were an infinity of possibilities. They stood up again, paced the room for a moment, felt like this was what the tower had wanted.
They had needed to get stoned for it, because it meant Kaz would show them the stone. It was meant to be.
"Yes, please bring more, I will gladly set up something down here if we need to, we can try them all out one by one, see if they react differently to the tower, or around the tower." They rubbed their hands together.
They had no idea what the tower wanted with the crystals, but they were intent on finding out. "I'll let you know when I have time, then you can bring them." Hadn't they said that already? Didn't matter, time was doing odd things now.
They sat back down, staring at the crystal, and it felt like the high was finally hitting. "This is wonderful," they stated, or at least they thought they said it out loud.
"Mashallah." To Emre, Walid was in a good place. Emre was fairly sure Walid was well-suited to the technological mish-mash weirdness of Panopticon, and the biggest downside was being split so suddenly from their family. In one way, Ankita's hope had proved right.
At the request of a small favour, Emre was all ears. Peevishly he thought if Iyaz couldn't appreciate Emre's brotherly minding, maybe Walid would. And even if Walid didn't, Emre just wanted to please Walid's dead mother. Getting involved in Walid's family business - with mummy's blessing, no less - couldn't be more honourable a duty in Emre's opinion. "I can - I will," Emre heatedly assured, nodding reverently. "Least I can do. We'll get Walid to his siblings, inshallah. And Auntie - cheers. I mean, thank you. This, erm, it'd be an honour to do you proud for your son."
As for Iyaz, Emre shook his head. How could he explain that Iyaz, perhaps, didn't want to be found by his older brother. That the meeting might end up more explosive than even Emre could anticipate, his love, loss, and obsession festering for a year. He wanted to remain good in Ankita's eyes. "Erm, we keep in touch, Iyaz and I. Not easy, communications is well shot now that the world's gone to pot."
"There's no need to yell at me," Melody pouted, drifting away from Walid. "I'm already dead, what more do you want." She abandoned Walid when Emre returned, all smiles and teasing. Currently beaming with joy, Emre forgot himself for a moment and almost leaned to kiss Melody in greeting before he remembered she was intangible. His head was swirling with thoughts about Walid, their siblings, reading the Quran - all of it. Anything Ankita wanted of them, Emre would gladly do.
He couldn't understand everything Ankita said to Walid, but the tone and the cheek pinch was a universal language of good mothers, and Emre grinned. "This chai is brilliant, your mum's a proper star," Emre said to Walid. By now he could generously allow Walid time with their own mother, now that Emre had gotten enough attention and made family-adjacent plans with Ankita's ghost.
Instead, Emre turned to Melody, speaking quietly to her. "Problem solved, yeah? I'm sure you helped some."
Melody gave a half-shrug, looking elsewhere. Her corporeal form shivered and flickered more than usual. "Can we go after tea, Emmy? I'm...I'm not feeling well. I'm tired."
"Course, darling." Emre looked at Walid. "Everything alright, mate?"
Ankita smiled, and pressed her hand onto his arm for a short moment as he promised, and continued his boyish compliments. She said nothing to divert him, nor anything to keep him going. “Thank you, Beta,” she said with a genuine smile. “Jazaka Allahu Khairan.” She let him go so she could focus on the tea and listen to his words about his brother. “It is important that you do, even if it is hard, I am sure you both draw strength from it. I’ve always taught Walid the importance of community, even for those who think they’re well off on their own, to be among your own is to have two feet on the ground.” She wanted to believe that every person was good, even if she’d been put through hell when she was but a girl, lost the only man she’d ever loved, and was left to raise her children alone.
“For you not to mess with the fuses!” Walid said forcefully with a pout. They frowned at Melody as she went to Emre, wondering if she merely liked him because they both seemed to create difficult situations. But where they could forgive Emre for the bloody nose and the shock, the ghost had very little to offer. Their frown intensified when they saw the way Emre acted around his ghost. And they had to stop when their mom called them out on it.
Ankita beamed at her son, patting his head, her ghost hand running through the curls. Cold spread through his head. Luckily he wasn’t a fuse. “I am a star,” she said in Arabic to her Walid. And Walid nodded, smiling, because he too loved it when his mother was proud. “Her tea is very good,” he agreed.
While his mother beamed and watched for Emre to try her tea, Walid only had eyes for this strange thing between Emre and Melody, which they were sure their mom would want information on later on. Sadly there were no other aunties for her to gossip with, so her son would do. It wasn’t that odd, oftentimes Walid had sat by their mom and recounted events without thinking, tinkering away.
“Ah habibi,” Ankita said, as she saw Melody’s shiver and flicker. “Beta, you must take your tea and help her, she doesn’t look very good,” she told Emre in Urdu. “Dear,” she said as she turned to Melody. “Let him take care of you, yes.”
Walid wouldn’t be surprised if she’d completely forgotten this ghost business and instead was Auntie’ing up the room by deciding who should help who. If she had heard their earlier bickering, she’d turn upon Walid too to tell him to apologise. Instead, she urged Walid with a look to say: “Everything has been fixed, I am sure nothing will short-circuit for now.” And they could feel their mom’s eyes on them, probably waiting for a silent moment to tell him to pick his words with more kindness.
Emre always missed his parents, that grief that hung on to the edge of a cliffside life that had long collapsed. Yet Ankita's words still rung as true as if Omar and Urmilla had never disappeared from Emre's life. Of anything, a mother's pride and protection was something Emre could relate to, when he thought about his brother. His entirely family now, gone. And now he was here, hogging Walid's mum instead. "Dunno how this is happening, but you and Walid, is important innit. Can't imagine what it must've been like for you, when he disappeared so mysteriously."
Emre watched attentively, listened to Ankita's guidance, nodded along as he assisted. Good little boy in the kitchen, wanting to help mummy. Admittedly that had been Iyaz more than Emre, who'd wanted to pal about with his abu, but. Emre was determined to learn the steps for Walid's sake, and he was a quick learner when he wanted to be. Important things, like making chai.
Being called 'beta' was like being dipped in rosewater. "My brother was on the island, we got here together. But the island let him go...bloody hell, an entire year ago. Sorry," he apologized for the 'bloody hell'. "Right, yeah, so. Just me now. But I found Walid," he added, so Ankita could have a somewhat happy ending. "Like having a cousin, innit."
"Why're you so pissed? You don't like people? Or do you just don't like girls. It's okay. You know, my club had gay night too," Melody sing-songed along. "All sorts of lads, you should've seen them! Big ones, little itty-bitty ones. Some in drag. Anyway, I won't tell your mummy or nothing, don't be frightened, sweetheart."
When the lights went up, Melody had nothing but a papery laugh at Walid's sourness towards her. She was hardly bothered, having faced way worse in life. A happy nod. "Still am his girlfriend. Suppose we stop being together if one of us is dead though? But we was together, when he disappeared. I honestly thought he'd fucked off and left me, the bastard."
"Subhanallah!" Emre echoed, touching his forehead and grinning widely. Ankita launched into stories about Walid, and Emre was intrigued by a mother's logic. "He's doing something well more important than bloody NASA or whatevs, I promise. Honestly think this tower's the only thing holding the world together with duct tape and wires innit. Fortunately, Walid's got plenty of both."
Once the tea was trayed up, Emre proudly carried it back to the main room. Ankita's description of death was something pinned to the back of Emre's head. Something he'd wanted to hear, but couldn't think about, not right now. "I'm sure Library's got a Quran. I haven't read it in forever, likely Walid hasn't either."
Heading out, proudly bearing tea and Ankita, Emre announced, "Oi, tea's on! Walid, come have some. I'll pour." Emre nodded his chin up at Melody. "You haven't been harassing the poor old geezer, have you Melz?"
"He hates me," Melody pouted and she slid over. "Then again, I don't think he likes much, so it's alright."
Ankita managed to hide her discomfort at the question, like a good mother she held strong in the face of grief unless the time was carved out for her. She continued to smile, though she made sure at least some of her sorrow was clear in her eyes. “It was hard,” she said. “It was hard to not give in to the negative thoughts of others. I’ve kept hope that he was in a good place.” Even if a good place was death.
She guided Emre through the process, selecting the herbs, making sure these were smelling right, then she set to the boiling water, making sure the leaves were well steeped in the hot water before adding more. “I agree with you, I feel like I was put here for a reason, so I want to ask you something, beta. If you’d be willing to do me a small favour? Walid’s siblings never got the closure they needed about their little brother, I heard others speak of teleporters that allow you to go back. Two of his siblings are still alive, they’re old, but they’ll remember him, I am sure of it. We never stopped talking about him. Will you please ask him to visit when he gets the chance? I will hide all the information he needs in his toolbox. But I don’t want to spoil what little time I have.” And she knew she could never force anything on her boy.
Ankita gently patted Emre on his hand, allowing the ‘bloody hell’ to be ignored, she’d also heard worse curses. “Have you seen him since, Beta?” She filled four cups with chai, even though she could not drink it and she was certain neither could Emre’s ghost - who she would not ask about no matter how much her auntie-senses were tingling. “A cousin? Yes, I know he’s old now, almost as old as me, but he’s still young at heart.”
Walid’s eyes widened at the suggestion. They stared at Melody without being able to change or rearrange their facial expression. Their cheeks were definitely several shades darker. “I don’t like people,” they decided to answer, though it came out more as a question and with a stutter. “But that’s… no, you are just… messing with stuff, I don’t like it when people mess with stuff and expect me to fix it all the time. Some things you shouldn’t even need to touch!” Like the fusebox.
Walid’s mother smiled brightly, she took a deep breath and slowly let it out through her nose, straightening her perfectly tailored sari. “You must read it together then, I know the world can get dark and frightening, and sometimes it feels like there are a million things more important; but this is important too.” The fact that Walid hadn’t read the Quran didn’t surprise her, she’d force-fed the words with a spoon to his ever distracted mind. He understood the importance but so easily got lost in other things.
Walid put the tools he’d used away, and looked up when Emre proudly returned with their mom in tow and the tea. They could see that at least those two had had a good conversation, but their mother had always been better at the whole social part than them. They gritted their teeth together and shot Melody a look of annoyance.
“Beta, stop your pouting, your face will freeze like that,” Ankita said in Arabic, pinching Walid’s cheek. “Come have some tea, it will cheer you up. Emre will try to get you some milk one day, I taught him my recipe, you won’t be without tea ever again.”
“Thank you, ammi,” he said.
"I have a younger, he is the most special," Emre agreed wholeheartedly, this proclamation in Urdu coming out smooth and conversational. Something Emre had said or thought about many times before. "Our whole family believed that, alhamdulillah. Especially Iyaz - " Emre chortled, and nodded his chin towards Walid. "I hope he believes the same in himself, inshallah."
It was the ultimate praise, from a mother or an Auntie or a nani. 'Sweet boy' was paradise; if Emre had a tail, it would be wagging. He eagerly led Walid's mom to the small break room where the kettle sat and whilst they waited for the power, Emre pored over the spices that Walid had assembled, for his mum to make chai. "Secret recipe? Or can you show me? I've never learned how but if we've got everything on the island, then I might as well learn, yeah. Then I can make it for Walid and us."
Meanwhile, Melody gawped at Walid's age. "So everyone here could be much older than they look? What sort of place is this...? It's got enough power to bring the spirits of dead people here too. Bloody hell. And you manage all of it? That's brilliant, sweetheart."
She watched Walid find a blowtorch, and at first stepped back respectfully. But then - "Hangabout. I'm a bloody ghost. I wonder if..." Floating towards the torch, Melody stuck her translucent hand directly into the hot flame. The result was a flame that diffused through the ethereal fabric of Melody's hand, shimmering like tiny glowing blue motes out the other side of her hand. The motes floated towards the fuse in particles, evaporating the ice before it could melt. Melody giggled. "It tickles, that's all! It don't burn, it just tickles. Is this helping?"
As if to answer her question, between Walid's and Melody's efforts, the power flared back up and Emre in the breakroom let out a cry of triumph. "Well done, Walid!"
Melody giggled and spun around Walid. "See? Girls like me can be useful to clever old men like you."
Emre nodded along as Walid's mum boasted about them. A younger Emre might've rolled his eyes; but older and yearning, this one willingly agreed. "He's done a lot on this island, he's a real bigshot. Engineer bigshot. Without him this whole tower would've collapsed twenty years ago, I reckon." Maybe Emre was puffing the truth, but he didn't care. Walid's mum should be proud of her child.
And now it was Emre's turn to be pleased. "Erm, well. I've been trying to get back into it and Walid said they'd help out," Emre replied generously. "Fajr and mahgrib for now. We live right beside each other, makes it routine and that innit. Erm, Auntie..." Emre looked at her with big rounded eyes. "If you don't mind me asking - what's it like? Being dead?"
Ankita smiled kindly, as brightly as a ghost could smile while being not completely there. She nodded as she followed the young man through the tower and to the breakroom. She floated, like any good ghost would, her feet invisible under her long sari, she wasn’t touching the ground, see through at the edges, like she could drop right through the earth. “It is a fine line we mothers walk between our pride and our need to protect our children. Some compliments are good, others they cloud the mind with the future. But if you dote on your Iyaz the way I do on my Walid, it must be well, mashallah.”
Walid’s mother smiled secretively as she collected the spices for a single serving of chai, along with a small box of sugar on the side. “I will show you, then you can teach Walid later when he wants to be taught.” This was as far as she would ever go to say anything bad about one of her children, only a small hint of comments made behind closed doors. “It is all in the way you bring the herbs and hot water together, the spices and herbs themselves, I’ve been told most resemble Turkish tea. I do have a sweet tooth,” she said, as she pointed to the sugar. “But Walid likes it without any sugar, he usually wants a bit of sheep milk, but I have found none on this island.” She placed the herbs in front of Emre. “Are you here alone on this island, beta? No family?”
Walid shrank a little at Melody’s attention, it wasn't the type they were comfortable with or knew what to do with, so they merely sat staring at the problem at hand. “No, I mainly manage and maintain the parts humans touch, with my crew. The tower itself runs on its own juices and technology. Not even a fuse blown like this will stop it from running,” he explained.
They didn’t flinch or even warn Melody not to when she deliberately pushed her hand through the flame, in all honesty: they wanted to see what would happen too. Surely Emre wouldn’t blame them for it if it did hurt her. They stared at the particles, trying to focus on the fuse and not on the ghost hand. At least the process itself was already well under way, so they couldn't say if it had helped or not. They turned off the blow torch as soon as the power jumped back on, and made themselves promise to suggest this to the other engineers should they also come upon an icy ghost problem. “I suppose, despite having created the problem in the first place,” they offered with a frown, still not amused that they had been teamed up with Emre’s strange ghost. They considered walking to the break room and throwing Melody under the bus, as they were sure their mother had a lot to ask. “Were you his girlfriend?” he asked instead.
Ankita’s eyes shone, her face lit up and for a moment she was even more solid, almost burning her hand on the hot kettle that before she could touch without any real difficulty. “Subhanallah!” She nodded in pleasure, humming as she watched Emre and the hot water boil. “He always wanted to make things, I know he drove our village insane with how often he would be taking things apart, but I saw only good could come off a child with clear goals. I never expected him to leave us so soon, but I always told my grandchildren that perhaps he was working for NASA, that the Americans had recruited him because he was so smart, or perhaps the Japanese, and he was building rockets. My poor Walid, I know you will watch out for him, Beta.” She brushed a tear away.
“Oh how nice! You must make him practise his Arabic, I’ve not heard him say a word of it since I got back, only to me. He’s very rusty. If he can, he will avoid human beings for months,” she warned Emre, as if she had now entrusted the care of her child to this young man. And for this trust, she would teach him how to make her chai, and she would answer his questions. “It is not like living, time is less relevant, things move but do not move, but because it does not, there is no feeling of eternity. No solidity nor grief. It is to forget that you were a person yet to remember you were alive. I may look like a ghost now, but this is the most solid I’ve been since I was alive. Yet none is lost, in death we are our souls, light and blessed.”
“Tried turning it off and on again didn’t get anything, not even a little jingle.” He was fairly certain the phone was some kind of waterproof, but to what extend he didn’t know and frankly had never really cared. Lee had forever taken the piss out of him for buying into the apple eco-system, but what else was Nick going to use? It all worked harmoniously together anyway and that’s all he really cared about. “I can pay you for your time, got the creds Walid.” Which was maybe a stretch because Nick had been steadfastly reserving credits to go on a blow-out honeymoon. He wanted to forget the plebs of Panopticon and lay on a white sandy beach for a week, with Mik of course.
‘Are you a mechanic, or a repair-person Walid?’ Ana interjected, dotingly smiling as if Walid wasn’t older than her. ‘I can’t even imagine how you’d repair these sorts of phones with their touch-screens it feels so futuristic! I still have one of these…’ She dug around in what was left of her pockets, to produce a flip phone that was somehow still intact. Save for a totally busted screen once she’d flipped it open. ‘I wish you could fix this for me! But I guess I don’t really have much use for it now. Besides my baby is right here for me to talk to.’
Nick shivered, as his mum had decidedly clung to his shoulder but fell through anyway. “Yeah I really was Walid, figured it’d be easy work for you? Bit of no-brainer downtime between the big juicy jobs?” Nick urged, voice tilting into a riot of enthusiasm. “Hey if you’re busy with the big stuff no worries, I can find someone else.”
'What kind of work do you normally do around here Walid?'
Walid nodded, their questions answered, that at least got one thing out of the way, though sometimes when people said they’d done that, they hadn’t really done it. Given there as an auntie present, he decided to reign in the judgement. At the offer of cred, Walid looked up to face Nick, momentarily thrown off from studying the phone. “I don’t need credits,” they stated. After all, they NEVER or at least rarely used the teleporters, and all they traded credits for was items or drugs from Kaz. Fixing a phone wasn’t something they would ask credits for anyway, only the big things, or if someone wanted them to do altercations to a piece of tech.
They decided to smile at the auntie, just because their mother would judge them if they didn’t. “I’m a trained engineer,” they said, a little too boastful. Their mom yelled from further away in Arabic: “Don’t be prideful, beta!” And Walid would be happy if neither Nick nor Ana could speak or understand the language. “This should be easy to fix,” they decided. If only because they didn’t want to touch the ghost phone, nor wanted Nick to be annoying one of the other engineers. They bit the inside of their mouth and opened up the phone. They didn’t like these new things, they liked the flip phones better. Those you could easily open up and find the problem with. The newer phones often had flunky hardware.
Their attention was fully on the hardware, when the auntie asked him a question. Luckily for him, his mother came to his rescue. “My boy is always tinkering,” she said with a huge smile, then smiled brightly at Ana and Nick. “I’m Ankita, Walid’s mother, it’s so nice to meet the both you. Would either of you like some tea?”
Orion's calm silence contrasted Walid's nervous, skittish fidgeting as he quietly watched Walid jumping and hastily muttering under his breath. This could prove to be a challenge. "Stay calm and stay close to me. As long as you are near me, I can protect you. Alright?" Orion tried to reassure them, before he turned around to face the darkness of the building, towards a dark, long corridor that likely lead to the maintenance room.
The dank, musty smelling walls, the cracked bricks and the dust that flickered in the light of their flashlight reminded Orion of his recent trip with Emre. Retrieving the crown jewels from the bowels of a stormy ghost ship drifting aimlessly on the ocean hadn't gone as planned. The darkness around them back then had been similarly absolute, only pierced by the cold white light of their fleshlight. Except that Emre had been more seasoned, quickly reacting when the fleshlight had turned into darkness and the shadows had started moving for them. Orion cast a glance back at Walid. He hoped they wouldn't go running around like a headless chicken if something like that happened. Orion might not be able to protect them if that were the case. Not that the raider could blame him for his nerves.
But they reached the maintenance room without incident. The door creaked loudly with years of disuse as Orion forced it open almost easily, shining his fleshlight inside before stepping in. A fuse box, a rather sizeable generator and several barrels of fuel were strewn about the room. So far, everything looked safe. "Can you check out the generator and see if it's working? I'll grab the fuel." Orion ordered, making his way over to one of the barrels when his eyes fell onto something. The fuse box was half-open. And something was inside of it. Flesh. Pulsing, spilling out around the edges, pinkish, light-skin colored tentacles snaking alongside the metal down to the wall, burrowing into it.
"That's unexpected." Orion muttered, staring at the throbbing mass.
Walid did as requested; gladly as well. They almost completely glued themself to Orion’s back, but still kept enough distance for the other to spin around if necessary. Meanwhile the thoughts tended to grapple at his brain, convincing him that he was in danger. He was not in danger. They gritted their teeth together.
The fact that they made it to the maintenance room without running into monsters got them hopeful, and soon as the order was uttered, Walid said to work. That was the only thing they could really do: work.
And they quickly set to it, not surprised by the state of the generator. It wasn’t working, but it could, with some cleaning and a way to jump start it. They looked in their bag to find anything that could work though perhaps not for this type of generator, when they heard Orion mutter, turning quickly.
“What did you find?” they asked, their voice small and helpless. At the same time, they decided they should turn on the generator, because they needed light, light to see more than the darkness and the little illumination that the flashlight showed. So he set to it quickly, managing to create enough of an electric charge for the generator to start off, perhaps on its last legs: using residue that it still had hidden somewhere, perhaps someone had been here before them planning on using it.
But the room lit off.
