“O beloved fellow citizens, in order to fully cater to your needs, the Gate shall soon extend its exceptional services to you every day of the week, from seven in the morning until four in the afternoon each day. Please complete your paperwork before reserving a place and deliver it to the Booth, making sure to keep the receipt signed by the official as proof of validity. For applicants for Certificates of True Citizenship, your application must be accompanied by an official letter notarized by your place of work or study, stating the purpose of your request, the party to which the Certificate shall be sent, as well as confirmation of their eligibility to receive it. Do not hesitate to inquire about the following numbers …”
The announcement lasted seven whole minutes, and Nagy watched them tick by on his watch one by one. Afterward, a phrase no one in the coffee shop had seen before appeared on the screen, as though it were an addendum, unconnected to the audio recording. With regards from Former Major General Zaky Abd el-Aal Hamed, President of the Northern Building.
Nagy looked away and smiled. Despite how often the Gate released these promising updates, it still had never reopened, and nothing ever really changed. All it provided was hope for people to cling to and a reason to stay in the queue. The Gate had started producing these announcements shortly after it appeared and initially aired them on several different channels. Before long, a special channel was created to broadcast all Gate-related news, then related fatwas as well, and recorded messages aimed at citizens, too. After that, the special channel began to broadcast new laws and decrees as the Gate issued them, one after the next, and forbade other channels from showing them. Then it decided to list the names of people whose applications and permits would be approved when the Gate opened, listing them on-screen at the end of every week. This attracted a huge viewership; people delighted in discovering who among them had been lucky and who had been rejected. Later, the Gate issued a decree that forbade other channels from screening any announcements other than its own and forced them to air its broadcasts instead. Its messages had become increasingly aggressive and intense, particularly after the Disgraceful Events, and it made the other channels replay them all. Some networks complied, but others refused and instead shut down their channels and offices. The Gate didn’t regulate radio stations the same way, though. It simply made sure it held sway over employees at the stations, and recruited loyal citizens, men and women alike, to call in to the programs while posing as unbiased listeners.
Hammoud appeared about half an hour later carrying a tray of drinks, and stopped short in front of them, understandably surprised. Seeing them outside the queue, right here under his nose, was the last thing he’d expected. Nagy reproached him for disappearing so suddenly and abandoning the residents of the queue without a hint or warning, but Hammoud said the situation had become so dangerous that he had no choice but to serve the construction workers instead. He was sorry, he said, but he was also fed up with the way things were going, especially with Um Mabrouk, who’d overstepped her bounds.
“What does she know about tea and coffee?” He began to shout. “Shouldn’t she just stand in the queue like everyone else? Why’s she cutting into our business?”
He accused the two of them of collaborating with her to hatch a plot against him and the coffee shop’s owner; it wasn’t right that they’d lost so many regular customers to Um Mabrouk, and so quickly, too. People could have waited until life returned to normal, things in the neighborhood calmed down, and the coffee shop opened its doors again, but no — no one had said a word, and no one thought to dissuade Um Mabrouk. Most of them had encouraged her to stay in business and even to expand. Hammoud carried on, growing so furious that he was ready to start an actual fight or even throw them out, but thanks to Yehya’s patience they rode out his anger and then countered his rant, turning the tables on him with playful banter. Wasn’t there a well-known brand of tea, Nagy said, whose taste mysteriously changed when it was in Hammoud’s hands? And which they had discovered — purely by chance, of course — was cut with some kind of black powder: watered down, just like the rest of his drinks were? Winking at each other, they told him that that was the real reason they supported Um Mabrouk, and Hammoud gave in. He laughed without commenting on or denying their accusations, and then went to get their drinks: two cups of coffee with sugar, in proper glasses instead of the usual cheap cups.
A man wearing a traditional striped galabeya walked past them with a large stack of newspapers hanging from a wide leather band wrapped around his middle. He looked like an old-fashioned street peddler, but didn’t announce his wares as the old hawkers once did, and he walked by dull-wittedly, as if he had run out of exciting headlines that might attract potential business. Nagy called out to the man, who seemed disinterested in the possibility of customers, and he ploddingly turned around and reluctantly returned to where the two of them were sitting. Yehya asked him about a certain economics magazine and Nagy requested one of every newspaper and magazine the man was carrying, but the man drearily apologized: the only paper he was selling was The Truth.
Nagy bought a copy and tossed it down on the table, which was spotted with small puddles of water. The paper’s edges began to soak it up, softening, becoming translucent, and revealing the pages beneath. Hammoud arrived with their coffee and Nagy pushed the paper aside to make room for the cups. A mischievous half-smile formed on Hammoud’s lips when he saw the wet paper, the pages warped and stuck together. The front-page headline read “NEW AMENDMENTS TO LAWS AND DECREES” and was followed by a few brief sentences and a note that the amended laws could be found inside. Nagy’s eyes fell on a familiar phrase, dead-center on the page: Authorization for the Removal of Bullets. Article 4 (A) was one of the amended articles. The text of the article had not been changed, but now there was an additional paragraph. Nagy shifted in his seat, reading the front page warily, but said nothing. He didn’t want to spoil the relatively good mood that had come over Yehya, so he folded the newspaper, set it aside on a chair, and clapped for Hammoud, calling out, “Another coffee, and tea with mint.”
Not an hour after Yehya and Nagy left the coffee shop, Hammoud heard the announcer’s voice return on the television, more solemn and stern this time. The announcer himself appeared, wearing a sleek jacket and gray tie with diagonal stripes, his face filled with gravitas. At the end of his segment, he added that he’d just received several important decrees issued by the Gate, and listed them in succession. He devoted special attention to the revision of Article 4 (A), saying that it had been amended in accordance with a new spirit in government emphasizing sound moral principles and surveillance of citizens’ consciences. He also added that it had been altered as a direct response to developments in the country, and was in effect immediately.
“Permits authorizing the removal of bullets shall not be granted, except to those who prove beyond doubt, and with irrefutable evidence, their full commitment to sound morals and comportment, and to those who are issued an official certificate confirming that they are a righteous citizen, or, at least, a true citizen. Certificates of True Citizenship that do not bear a signature from the Booth and the seal of the Gate shall not be recognized under any circumstances.”