Meet the city of Lamae - in which the government keeps their citizens blind. Each person prides themselves for their lack of sight, believing that it is for the weak-willed. Every citizen is under the delusion that the Alhukum is good, wise, and has...
The trip across the desert was almost unbearable. Each hour, as I continued along the cracked ground—the ground that seemed to constantly be crying out for rain—sapped more and more of my strength. I kept drinking, but food was nonexistent, and I had to keep my cover as one kidnapped and tortured.
I reached Lamae a day and a half after setting out. My newly sighted eyes still ached slightly from exposure to the sun, and my skin felt as though it was made from a million tiny plates—plates that were beginning to crack at the scenes like a pastry.
At the gate, I collapsed, playing the part of a tortured victim. "Please," I hissed as the black-coated officers came toward me. I kept my face close to the ground so that I would appear blind. "I need....help...."
One of them poked my cheek with a sharp metal rod. (I didn't know the Alhukum had carried these. They looked like they were charged with electricity, but the setting was deactivated. This I was grateful for.) "We must see your identification."
With trembling hands, I pulled out my card. "I am Chaima Almasi," I rasped. My forehead was unbearably hot. I did not know of other people who had escaped the rebels in the past, but I prayed that the Alhukum—however flawed they might be—would be merciful enough to treat someone with a fever.
"Chaima Almasi." The officer picked up my face with roughness. He stared into my eyes, and I caught a glimpse of his face before putting my gaze away. "She hasn't been sighted," he said to his fellow workers. "By God, girl, what's happened to you?"
I closed my eyes. My body curled in on itself as I coughed; it wasn't an act at this point. "I was kidnapped a week ago by the rebels. They tortured me for information. I...."
My voice broke off as I began to cry, trembling—though not for the reason these agents were thinking I was. I was crying for fear I would be discovered, because of the physical pain and the heat and my delirium.
The officer lifted me up. "We'll help you. Folks get kidnapped by the rebels all the time. And they didn't even try to sight you before prying the information out'f you—perhaps these ones are actually decent." I did not know how to respond.
They dragged me into the city gates, and I kept my eyes lowered so as not to expose myself. The ground was made out of many interlocking diamonds—how had I not realized this before?—and was swept clean. I frowned. If the Alhukum was so terrible as Essa had claimed, why did it care so much about sanitation?
The officers carried me into a building. "I will get you help, miss," one of them said, tucking my identification into my pocket. "The name's Aaqil."
I turned my gaze toward him. There was kindness in his eyes. "Thank you, Aaqil."
A nod. "Doctor, we have a patient who suffered many forms of torture. She is in need of your assistance. Her name is Chaima Almasi."
▣
The doctors entered the room. I kept my eyes on the ceiling, but when a few of them hovered over me, I could not resist looking at them to gather a mental image. They had dark hair like Essa's, and soft masks over their faces.
They fed me. I could now clearly see what the food looks like—a great mix of white peppered here and there with blackness. As they spread a clear cream over my skin to get rid of the sunburn and let me drink, I thanked them. I was allowed as much as I wanted when it came to food and water.
Surely the Alhukum is not all bad, if it is willing to provide for me, I thought. But that was all shorted by the knowledge that if these good doctors knew of my secret, they would turn me over to the authorities for my death.
Death to the wicked. Mercy to those who have earned it.
▣
As I walked out of the doctor's office, Aaqil passed me a card. "You were old enough to live on your own," he blurted out. "This is a voucher for you to move into a house I will lead you to."
I nodded, keeping my eyes on the ground. "Why are you helping me?"
His hand gripped mine with a ferocity that frightened me. His voice was a hiss in my ear. "Do not ask why. Nobody asks why."
I swallowed, nodding. "I apologize."
"Come with me," he said, taking the other hand and leading me toward the place I would call home.
(Houses—or condos, as most Westerners will call them—are fully furnished in Lamae. It is standard procedure that as soon as somebody becomes an adult, they are expected to move out, get an apartment, and start a new life. I am eighteen, and as per the law, I am an adult. The Alhukum considers it a courtesy to furnish the houses to be occupied—unless the person is a dissident, as I have become.)
I entered, becoming comfortable again, running my hands over objects as though I were still blind. My eyes quietly drifted over the floor. "Thank you."
"Yes, ma'am. If you'll excuse me, I have other things to take care of." Aaqil then exited the room, and I was alone again.
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Tell me what you think....
● Do you think Aaqil is on her side? Why or why not?
● Why is the Alhukum showing kindness to her now? Why does the Alhukum show kindness in general?
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