“You should be clever.” He said that and leaned back in his cushy chair. He takes a lot of money for this short conversation.
"But I am clever.“ the other person said so that the person in front of him would appreciate his vision.
"No, excuse me, you’re not. Cleverness needs a lot of patience and practice.” With these words he closed all doors of hope.
“I will not apply to Harvard Medicine School, I already have tow degrees,” he added more vigorously:
“What you have is luck... you are lucky, not clever. You shall search for solution strategies, not luck.”
“But life is not all about problems, it’s about comfort solutions,” he added as if he came with something new:
"Why did I come to this lazy person, it is my fault from the beginning.” The patient felt that without a sign of hesitation.
“What is the next story?“
“I don’t know.“ The psychiatrist dried all his wells of courage.
If he knew that one day his legs will drive him to such kinds of idiots in this community, he will attempt suicide early in his life.
He survived this mental illness because he is a good writer, not because of medications. Every time he looks around, he doesn’t see anything but idiots.
A good writer knows what is possible and what is not.
“I will write a story without a voice.”
“You don’t know how to write stories.”
He said, ”Challenge.”
He replied to himself “Yes, a Challenge.”
Settings:
Irbed, a city North of Jordan, 2001.
I just graduated from university JUST. I was searching for work.
He constantly went to Amman city to present his papers to companies, but he had no hope, because of his tribe’s affiliation and its origin.
Actually, I don’t know the exact dates and settings, but I am sure of what happened. I was in my village Aidoun beside Irbed governorate when the Supermarket Man came to our house, holding a newspaper.
“There’s an advertisement here for an engineer, Khaled “
“What? What is it?” his mother said.
“It is from the oil Refinery; they want chemical engineers.”
He added, “Khaled should go and apply for the Job.”
"Every step is a story.“ This is my challenge, pull your passion.”
Every car is a story.“ He doesn’t know exactly what he is talking about, but he will win this time.
"Every stone is a story.“ He heard that from a voice from the sky.
"Can you tell me a story about something you never experienced, from A to Z.”
"This is a hypothesis, please can you.“
“Yes, do you see that car? Every cent in its price has a story. It might be a loan from a bank or a friend or some other possibility, or it might be a great theft.“
“A great theft, how can you recognize a great theft?” he said that with his eyes nearly out of his head.
“You asked me, and I should answer.”
“Imagine a ship full of crude oil. The buyer pays for its price. It comes to the harbour, but it is not unloaded. Instead, it goes to a distant harbour far away and it sold there again. What you call that. I call it a great theft.”
A ship sold twice, imagine. I call this money with no owner. Every \body sees and everybody knows.
“But what he will do with the money? How can it enter the western system? This is impossible.”
“I told you, no Buts.”
“All the world knows the corruption state of these countries and whatever comes out of it is legal - no laundry. Unless a greater theft is recognized from the adopting country.“
“I really don’t know now. But...”
“I don’t understand...”
“Don’t rely on one course or plot, there are many factors.“
“He might have had an accident, the first week after purchasing the car.” He didn’t think of insurance.
What items belong to a car accident? Maybe pedestrian injury, someone might be killed. Maybe destruction of the car, it needs repairs and maintenance; this depends on the kind or type of insurance.
“There are a lot of possibilities; just close your eyes and dream.“
“One word might expand to hundreds or thousands.“
“Yes, but I want a real story here...”
Soon, after a few minutes thinking.
“Yes, that is possible with an internal dialogue.“
“And what is that?“
“Someone talking in his head, within himself.“
“Do you call that a story and call yourself a storyteller? You don’t know any of the great writers.“
“I know the Great poet Walt Whitman, with his great work ‘Leaves of the grass’. “
“But...”
“No buts.”
“Now I will tell you now a real story.“
“I took the advertisement from the Supermarket Man’s hands. It was written there that the application for work should be submitted to their headquarters in 1st circle in Amman.”
“This is not a fiction; this is just a collection of words. What is your plot from the 36 plots.”
“I will give you a new experience in life.”
“What experience? You went to Amman and applied for the Job. And that is it, no less no more.”
“It is so easy... hah. But walking in the jungle from 2nd circle to 1st circle isn’t so easy, or pure of your choice on pedestrian tracks.”
“Then you tell me.”
"I don’t remember what happened to me when I went from Irbed to Amman. It is a complete blind area, and actually there are a lot of blind areas in my head.”
For sure, I crossed the whole way, and every detail in it was deleted from my mind, but I love to forget.
“I ride a service car from Addakhlia circle to 2nd circle.”
It is not a long way. It was the last ride.
"And also I don’t know when I reached the 2nd circle.
"I walked on the pedestrian right track, not knowing what is there. Actually, there was a very important Monument in the whole of Amman.“
"It is the USA embassy. The most protected building in Amman, with an Artificial Intelligence machine gun directed toward everything in the street, pedestrians and cars.“
“I saw that; nobody told me.”
"I walked all over the street upside down in my mind. When I reached nearly halfway, I didn’t know what happened. Suddenly I looked to the right. My face seemed upside down and I remembered how wild animals survive during a threat. I walked very slowly, catching any bubble of air under my feet. These moments were outside my imagination and memory. They were so frightening to the degree they didn’t enter the system of my mind.”
"Finally, I reached the end of the windows and read this sign, “The Embassy of the United States of America.“
"I went into a deep laughing, as if I just seen a joke. Not a death experience.”
On the way back I had taken the same track but forgot everything about the Embassy. It was the same speed across the Embassy not looking right or left. I remembered the same threat, but I know exactly how and when it is actuated, a hazard with no risk.
When I reached the 2nd circle I looked behind and I saw a man in black going out of the Embassy, I noticed that he took the other side of the street toward my direction.
Not important.
His gun was under his belt, waiting for nothing to happen. Nobody ever thought of going to the Embassy and making an attack. That would be far away from anyone’s minds.
But he didn’t want a brutal attack. He wanted a declaration of war. Total insanity, he had declared war against the USA, and he had declared that war in an email from yahoo account to the Embassy.
He didn’t see his insanity. This kind of insanity must be declared.
What was he? A person, an individual, a pedestrian!
"The conflict has not been resolved yet.”
"What you mean, it is not an endless war.”
It is life and death. Spies are everywhere; they must be terminated.
Cry, once more, let your tears flood your eyes. For the wasted lives. They have no voice, we have no voice, we are nothing but a wasted dust,…ashes.”
