The voice rattled on with rationale and regulations before presenting the rest of the news, none of which contained anything new, and Hammoud wiped down the tables and dried them with a couple of pages he’d ripped from the newspaper that Nagy and Yehya had left behind. He raised the volume on the television a little and adjusted the image. Along with the money he earned from waiting tables at the coffee shop, he could count on keeping this channel on for as long as possible.
As soon as they left the coffee shop, Nagy went to Ehab to discuss the latest amendment, without telling Yehya, who didn’t need to be burdened with even more trouble. His usual air of despondency and distress had lifted in the last couple of days, and there was no need to bring it back. There was now yet another document to add to the growing stack of papers he needed to qualify for a permit; the road ahead grew longer, more difficult, and ever more complicated. As Yehya walked up to them, they fell silent.
“Alfat still hasn’t appeared, Ehab?”
“Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about it … If she’s in the queue, I’ll find her. I’ve asked a bunch of people I know to help look.”
Yehya nodded and then took a drab, square piece of paper that looked like a government receipt out of his pocket. The Booth had accepted his ID card, he said, the one from work, even though it had expired. The official had photocopied it twice and told him there was just one more step: a personal interview at the Gate. If he passed this and was granted a Certificate of True Citizenship, it would automatically be added to his file there, along with the rest of his papers and documents. Then, when the Gate opened, they would consider his application for the permit to extract the bullet.
Nagy was stunned and Ehab laughed, impressed — Yehya did not disappoint. Despite adversity, Ehab thought, he always moved in the right direction, not hesitating, not waiting for help or even advice from those around him. He knew about the amendment, decided to take action, and did it himself, all while Ehab and Nagy were still discussing what to do. He was a marvel. If you’d seen him two days ago, walking doubled over, ashen-faced and miserable, you would have thought he had given up completely, surrendered like so many others had done. Other people had weakened when faced with fear and pain, or submitted to the flood of pressure and promises from above, clinging to a desire to survive their predicament. Others agreed to undergo surgery at Zephyr Hospital and somehow emerged as they’d been before the Disgraceful Events. They didn’t have a mark on their bodies, no signs of bullets or shrapnel, and the operations left almost no trace. But Yehya wasn’t like them. He was a different kind of man, steadfast and stubborn, and must have realized that day in Zephyr Hospital how important his injury was: he was carrying a government bullet inside his body. He possessed tangible evidence of what had really happened during the Disgraceful Events, and was perhaps the only person still alive who was willing to prove what the authorities had done.
But Ehab brushed these thoughts aside and quickly interjected before either of the others could speak.
“It’s good what you did, Yehya … You’ve got to act fast in times like these.”
“Now we just need the Gate to open. Everything else depends on that.”
“Nagy, have you called Amani yet?” Ehab asked. “I’m determined to be with her when she goes to the hospital.”
“She called, and Yehya and I said we’d meet her tomorrow afternoon at the restaurant by the coffee shop.”
“Great. Make sure she doesn’t forget to tell me when she’s going to the hospital, so I can be ready.”
Ehab left them to finish his rounds and they sat down together, hoping for some brief respite before returning to their place. The queue forked around here and extended ever farther, and no one cared to speculate how long or vast it was anymore. Whole families came to visit their relatives waiting there, children played on the sidewalk and hurled their leftover food at the soldier sitting in his metal box. Microbuses had begun to arrive regularly again, and the gas stations had opened after the cleansing operations finished. The insects, though, hadn’t disappeared.
When they returned to their place, they found the young man who’d carried the old Southern woman away. He said his mother was well, that she was resting at home, and with the utmost courtesy asked if he could take her place in the queue, peering over at the place she’d vacated. Ines immediately said yes and let him stand in front of her, and as soon as he unpacked and settled in, she leaned over and asked how sick the old lady was, and why she’d fainted, but the young man wasn’t as forthcoming as Shalaby. She asked him politely, but he responded with just a few terse words, so Ines repeated her questions several times, hoping — in vain — for something that would satisfy her curiosity. The man in the galabeya began to make frequent visits to the area, too, and he stood around without any apparent reason, announcing how displeased he was with the disgraceful mingling between men and women. Soon he turned his attention to Ines, telling her to conduct herself with modesty, not to lean forward or bend over, and to pray, so that God would answer her prayers and send her what she needed from the Gate.
Ehab ran into the woman with the short hair during an interview he was doing near Um Mabrouk. He greeted her warmly and, remembering their first meeting, told her lightheartedly that the lost bag was likely still lost — after everyone had agreed to his idea, the man in the galabeya had kept it in the end. He followed this with a hearty laugh, expecting her to join in, but displeasure flickered across her face. She was not at all amused; she took the matter seriously and felt that he’d failed her. She’d put her faith in him and he wasn’t acting like a real journalist should, with principles and skills. The crowd swelled around them, with people eating and drinking on one side and those waiting to be helped by Um Mabrouk on another, and the woman with the short hair gave up on the discussion. She shook her head in frustration and then glanced at her watch, as if in excuse, and returned to her place in the queue with the little radio she always carried.
Ehab spent two nights outside the queue and returned early the third morning with a copy of the newspaper he wrote for, which had published an important investigative piece he had written on additions to and deletions from the amended laws and decrees. He’d conducted interviews with people who were concerned with the issue, and explained in his article that despite how carefully the amended clauses must have been considered, there were a few things people objected to. He cited clause 4 (A) as an example, writing that the amendment had sparked considerable controversy, particularly from groups defending people’s rights. They pointed out how complex the law was — or “intricate,” as they put it — and respectfully suggested that it might be difficult for people to comply.
For example, some of those who had bullets lodged in their bodies were critically injured and incapable of submitting an application, waiting for their cases to be evaluated and substantiated, and then completing the paperwork for surgery permits.
Other groups condemned both the original text and the amendment to clause 4 (A). Their critique seemed objective and fair: Zephyr Hospital — the sole hospital exempt from the permit requirement — had only so many beds. If the Disgraceful Events flared up again, or other unrest broke out, it might not be able to accommodate all the injured. Some people might be forced to seek treatment in unregistered and unsafe hospitals, which would unleash a new wave of problems.