people to do this or that, who loves sincerely, and sacrifices himself, and pronounces slogans, and finally kills the audience off because he is so insufferable!'
'I will take your advice,' Samara said. 'I will write instead about those others who kill off the audience because they are so charming!'
'But these also have their artistic problems,' Khalid continued. 'They live without any beliefs at all, wasting their time in futile pursuits in order to forget that they will soon turn into ashes and bones and nitrogen and water; and at the same time they are worn down by a daily life that forces upon them a certain kind of desperate and — to them — meaningless seriousness. Don't forget, either, that the insane everywhere around us threaten destruction at any moment. People like this do not act, they do not develop; so how can you hope to succeed in constructing a play around them?'
'That's the question!'
'And then there is another problem, which is that any one of them is no different from any other — except in outer appearance. That is, any one of them is not a personality, but is made up from disintegrating elements, like a crumbling building. We can distinguish between one house and another, but how can we tell the difference between two piles of stones, wood, glass, concrete, mortar, dust, paint? They are like modern painting, one canvas just like the next. So how can you justify having several characters on the stage?'
'You are practically telling me to give up writing!'
'Not at all — but I am pointing out that like attracts like. Just as the righteous stick together and the evil find each other, so is the drama of the absurd for the absurdists. Brother Ali here will never take you to task for the lack of plot or character or dialogue. No one will embarrass you with questions about the meaning of this or that. Since there is no foundation to build on, your detractors cannot shake you. Indeed, you will find people who will praise your work, who will say — and rightly — that you have expressed, through a chaotic play, a world whose identity is chaos…'
'But we do not live in a world whose identity is chaos!'
Khalid sighed. 'And that is the difference between you and me. You can go back to the loving looks of brother Ragab now.'
Nothing here turns with certainty, sure of its goal; nothing save the pipe. Before long, lethargy will descend from its enchanted abode among the stars and tongues will be stilled. The new passion will likely bear fruit before the night is out in the form of a kiss beneath the guava tree. And before that, the earth has turned for millions and millions of years to result in this night party on the surface of the Nile. The moon disappeared from view, but he could see the gecko above the balcony door. It ran, and then stopped, and then ran again. It seemed as if it was looking for something. 'Why is there movement?' he asked.
They turned to him, expecting some surprise.
'What movement, master of ceremonies?' asked Mustafa.
And he murmured, continuing with his work: 'Any movement at all.'
14
As it was an official holiday, Anis spent the day on the balcony and in the sitting room, withdrawn into a state of complete harmony. Just before sunset Amm Abduh came to prepare for the evening. He bid Anis a happy festival day for the third or fourth time, thinking that it was the first time he had greeted him. Anis asked him what he knew about the festival. Amm Abduh replied that it was on this day that the Prophet left the unbelievers — curses upon them — for a new place.
'This room will shortly be filled with unbelievers!' said Anis.
The old man laughed, unable to credit such a thing.
'You are escaping into your faith,' Anis continued wickedly.
'Escaping!' Amm Abduh replied. 'I came here one day, a long time ago, riding on top of a train.'
'Where did you come from!'
'Oh…'
'And from what crime were you fleeing?'
'Well…'
He was determined to forget. Perhaps he really had come to Cairo on the run from some crime. Perhaps he was carried to the city on the wave of revolution in 1919. And now he no longer knew; and so no one knew at all.
'Are you a serious man, Amm Abduh?' he asked, still teasing.
'Ah!'
'Do you not know that Samara is a new Prophet?'
'Almighty God forgive you!'
'And she has an army behind her, to wage war on Nothingness, and march forward!'
'Where to?' asked the simple Amm Abduh.
'To prison — or to the madhouse.'
Amm Abduh left for the sunset prayer. 'Where shall I find a cat for all the rats on the embankment?' he murmured to himself as he left.
The friends arrived shortly afterward, earlier than usual in celebration of the holiday. Anis set about his usual business. They talked, for some of the time, about their personal affairs. Ragab announced that he planned to raise his asking fee to five thousand pounds per film, and Khalid congratulated him, for reaffirming in this way his loyalty to Arab socialism. Ragab laughed, but made no comment. He began instead to talk about Sana, how she was appearing with Ra'uf at parties and at the studios as his fiancee. Ragab was sure that this engagement would not end in marriage. Layla wondered how long the serious one's seat would remain unoccupied.
'She came back yesterday from a press tour of the industrial zone,' Ali said. 'She will probably come tonight.'
'Tell us the truth,' said Khalid to Ragab. 'What is your relationship with her?'
Ragab smiled.
'Are you meeting in some little bachelor apartment behind our backs?' Khalid pursued.
'Certainly not — you must believe me! There are no secrets between us here!'
'In that case, you must now admit defeat for the first time in your life.'
'Not at all. I'm just not launching my attack quite yet, so I can relive my memories of Platonic love!'
'So there is love?'
'Of course.'
'On your part as well?'
He took a deep drag on the pipe, and exhaled in a leisurely fashion. 'I am not devoid of love,' he said at last.
'Love, Ragab style?' Saniya inquired.
'Yes, but a new model.'
'This means that it is essentially nothing.'
'Let's wait and see.'
'She is truly beautiful,' Ahmad said.
'But she has a strong personality,' said Ali.
'Which is a somewhat repellent characteristic in a woman,' said Saniya, at which Layla fixed her with a disapproving look, so she cheerfully amended: 'Well, it can be, sometimes.'
'The more impregnable the fortress, the greater the glory of those who take her,' said Ragab.
'But the atom bomb takes no account of fortresses or conquerors,' said Layla.
'She has turned down a splendid marriage,' said Ahmad. 'That deserves admiration in itself.'
'Don't prejudge the matter!' said Saniya. She turned to Ragab. 'Has she not referred to marriage at all?'
'Sometimes marriage comes without anyone referring to it, like death,' he replied.
'Tell me truly, could you seriously contemplate marriage?'
He paused for a moment before saying: 'No.' His hesitation made a deep impression on everyone. Why don't
