"But your soul only pays attention to such fine qualities when losing someone," Kamal thought. "At this critical moment your memory is crowded with images of places, times, and events having a profound impact on you. Light overlaps darkness as the blue of early morning blends with the roof garden, the glowing brazier of the coffee hour mingles with religious legends, and the dove's cooing mixes with sweet songs. Heart of an infidel, this was a magnificent love. Tomorrow you may truly declare that death has claimed the person you loved most. Perhaps your eyes will fill with tears until old age reproves you. The tragic vision of life is not free of an infantile Romanticism. It would be far worthier of you to view life courageously as a drama with a happy ending called 'death.' But ask yourself how much longer you will continue wasting your life. Your mother dies after concluding a lifetime of achievements. What have you done?"
He was roused by footsteps as Khadija entered the room in a state of shock. She made straight for the bed, calling to her mother and asking what had happened. His pain was compounded by this scene, and fearing that his sangfroid would desert him, he fled to the sitting room. Yasin, Zanuba, and Ridwan arrived almost immediately. After shaking hands with them, Kamal told them about his mother's condition without going into details. They went into the bedroom, leaving him alone until Yasin emerged to ask, "What did the doctor tell you?"
Kamal answered despondently, "Paralysis and pneumonia. Everything will be over in three days."
Yasin bit his lip and said mournfully, "There is not any power or might save God's". Taking a seat, he muttered, "The poor woman the whole thing comes so suddenly. Hadn't she complained of feeling poorly of late?"
"Not at all. As you know, she never complained. But she did seem tired at times."
"Shouldn't you have called the doctor earlier?"
"She detested nothing so much as consulting a physician."
Ridwan joined them after a while and told Kamal, "I think she should be moved to the hospital, Uncle."
Shaking his head sadly, Kamal answered, "It wouldn't do any good. The pharmacist will send a nurse he knows to administer the injection."
They fell silent, their concern evident on their faces. At this moment Kamal remembered a matter that courtesy required he should not neglect. So he asked Yasin, "How is Karima?"
"She'll have her baby this week, or that's what the woman physician says."
Kamal murmured, "May our Lord take her by the hand…."
Yasm lamented, "The baby will come into the world while the father is in detention."
The doorbell rang. It was Riyad Qaldas. After greeting his friend, Kamal escorted him to the study. On the way up, Riyad explained, "I asked for you at the school, and the secretary gave me the news. How is your mother?"
"She's paralyzed, and the doctor says it will all be over in three days."
Riyad looked glum and inquired, "Can't anything be done?"
Kamal shook his head disconsolately and remarked, "Perhaps it's lucky that she's unconscious and knows nothing of the destiny awaiting her". When they were seated, he added in an ironic tone, "But who among us knows what destiny awaits us?"
Riyad smiled without replying. Then Kamal continued: "Many think it wise to make of death an occasion for reflection on death, when in truth we ought to use it to reflect on life."
Smiling, Riyad answered, "I think that is better. So let's ask ourselves when anyone dies what we are doing with our lives."
"As for me, I'm not doing anything with my life. This is what I was thinking about."
"But you're only halfway down the road…."
"Perhaps yes, perhaps no," Kamal thought. "Although it's always good for a person to ponder the dreams that tempt him. Mysticism is an evasion of responsibility and so is a passive faith in science. There is no alternative to action, and that requires faith. The issue is how we are to mold for ourselves a belief system that is worthy of life."
He asked, "Do you think I've done my duty to life by sincerely pursuing my vocation as a teacher and by writing my philosophical essays?"
Riyad answered affectionately, "There's no doubt that you have."
"But like any other traitor, I live with a guilty conscience."
"Traitor?"
Sighing, Kamal said, "Let me share with you what my nephew Ahmad told me when I visited him at the jail before his transfer to the prison camp."
"By the way — any new developments concerning them?"
"They've gone with many others to the prison camp at al-Tur in Sinai.'"
Riyad inquired jovially, "The one who worships God and the one who doesn't?"
"You must worship the government first and foremost if you wish your life to be free of problems."
" [n any case, being detained without trial is, I think, a lesser evil than being sentenced to prison."
"That's one way of looking at it. But when will this affliction be removed? When will martial law be lifted? When will the rule of natural law and the constitution be restored? When will the Egyptians be treated like human beings again?"
Riyad started to fiddle with the wedding ring on his left hand. Pie remarked sadly, "Yes, when! Well, never mind…. What did Ahmad say in jail?"
"He told me, 'Life consists of work, marriage, and the duty incumbe tit upon each person claiming human status. This is not an appropriate occasion to discuss an individual's responsibilities toward his profession or spouse. The duty common to all human beings is perpetual revolution, and that is nothing other than an unceasing effort to further the will of life represented by its progress toward the ideal.'"
After reflecting a little, Riyad said, "A beautiful thought… but one open to all kinds of interpretations."
"Yes, and that's why his brother and antagonist, Abd al-Muni'm, accepts it too. I have understood it to be a call to adopt some set of beliefs, regardless of its orientation or goal. So I attribute my misery to the guilty conscience of a traitor. It may seem easy to live in a self-contained world of egotism, but it's difficult to be happy this way if you really are a human being."
In spite of the gloomy nature of the occasion, Riyad's face lit up and he replied, "This is the harbinger of an important upheaval that is about to occur in your life."
Kamal cautioned his friend: "Don't make fun of me. The choice of a faith has still not been resolved. The greatest consolation I have is the fact that the struggle is not over yet. It will be raging even when, like my mother's, my life has only three more days remaining". Sighing, he added, "Do you know what else he said? He told me, believe in life and in people. I feel obliged to advocate their highest ideals as long as I believe them to be true, since shnnking from that would be a cowardly evasion of duty. I also see myself compelled to revolt against ideals I believe to be false, since recoiling from this rebellion would be a form of treason. This is the meaning of perpetual revolution.'"
Ashe listened, Riyad nodded his head in agreement. Since Kamal was clearly exhausted and tense, his friend said, "I must go now. What would you think about accompanying me to the streetcar stop? Perhaps the walk would help you relax."
They both rose and left the room. Finding Yasin, who had met Riyad a few times, at the entrance to the first-floor apartment, Kamal invited him to join them but asked to be excused for a few minutes to look in at his mother again. On entering her bedroom, he found her still unconscious.