LAST CHAPTER

CHAPTER 7

Accept the facts!

   

They were sitting inside enormous round room with silver wallpaper or some sort of fulgent unforeseen metal kind…And nothing inside the room besides round green table, two green chairs and two men sitting twosome. Ahmed has never seen this man before… Plum but rather cute and innocent face, with thin moustache rolled from both sides, like done by medieval knight of Azerbaijan, slightly unshaved beard, brown eyes and nose straight as waterfall.

-         From now on call me, mister “Y”

-         OK…

-         I think you’re hungry with your question…so please…

-         You see after what I’ve seen and heard, sure I’m that nothing we’ll amaze me anymore…that’s enough for my poor heart…I’ll not be astonished even if you assert being queen of England under mask of a man…

-         I bet, I’m going to surprise you…

-         You try at least

-         Hmm…lets for first mention the fact that your on an alien ship right now…

-         What…-with pop-eyed he stood up in a split second.

-         Come down, may Allah forgive you, we are not going to initiate any sort of experiments or vivisection on you…Sit down please…

As soon as Ahmed sat down, mister “Y” slipped his right hand to a jacket pocket, searching for something. Ahmed instinctively made gulp noise forecasting the next thing to come out of his pocket would be a pistol or something. At last mister “Y” took out something plastic very much resembling remote control. He pushed some button and wallpapers began immediately moving vertically…the clearance was appearing and enlarging as it was already dividing the wall into two parts, lower and upper part which was shrinking gradually…Finally within 25 seconds whole upper part – enclosure disappeared substituting with a glass coverage that reflected some blue –green environment…

-         Is that…is that aquarium or what?

-         Something like that…but not indeed…Now we are 200 metres deep under the Caspian sea…Yes…yes…yes. If you do not notice any fish, so be sure that many submarine creatures live and spare in such depth in spite of absence of fish…Basicly  such depth is adoptable for phytoplanktons and other tiny submarine organisms…Why under the sea…Because, what people like you call aliens, since twenty’s century had been using deep water resources of Earth planet as a enormous lab for accomplishing their mission from their planet system. What we’ve seen in movies and read in sci-fi articles is not necessarily true, you see…They are here to save us…to stop us before we jump of the mountain…Under the sea they are curbing the air pollution which in a chain reaction we’ll move out of its orbit  the planet Earth which is imminent within 25 years…As you know oceans are prime sources of oxygen on earth. O-two is the key issue…key element that can save the Earth from devastating slide-off…They are somehow with their extraterrestrial methods by applying some liquid matters, triple the effect of “ocean lungs”. Look there…green plants moving under the water…and sure you must have seen them before when store where you worked had undergone to a robber attack…

-         But I thought it was green gases…

-         Nop…These alien sea-weeds from Olerob – yes it’s a planet on our Galaxy…- somehow increase the oxygen atoms on the earth, securing to reduce its side effects like heavy rains and floods as well…

-         But why they are trying to save us…what benefit for them

-         The most amazing part is that indeed…No benefit…As they put it saving the people is their mission and task…It comes out that what all the prophets, most monks and mollas said about the earth that is the center of universe was true all the time…We – human being are the most brilliant and strong creatures in the universe thus yet not able to use hundred at least 90 percent of our brains as they put it. I saw them fighting and dying for us…sacrificing they’r enormous and more developed bodies…Yes they know about everything, about prophet Ibrahim, prophet Musa, prophet Jesus, prophet Muhammed, may be peace to them all,…Mainly they are here to help us fighting the evil that hides its evil implications under the name “globalization”.  Already Earth is in unforeseen in the history of mankind war- the war between Allied Forces and MASONS which continues serving the dark side.   

-         Hey,,,hold on for a minute, what am I to do with all that, why me…

-         Because you are the main weapon of allied forces…creatures of Olerob has long waged different kind of experiments on humans for activating most brain cells- thus neurons, you’re the only success they had so far…

-         But…wait a minute…I don’t remember any of such creatures working on my brain…

-         Be patient…You see, when our assistant manager told you muttering inaudibly that it was your second travel…it was indeed…Let me go to square one…Before we met first, a year before, our team made a profound analyses of your life, family, your personality,,, You was the main candidate for such a dangerous and responsible job, taking into account your love to humanity and anti-egoistic efforts what was shaded by other people of you department…You are a good man thinking of not only your people, but treating all human beings same with no under conscious discrimination or envy…your soul was utterly clear to not abuse the power you’ll have after experiments…And physically you were of excellent nature as well…So after we met you a year before, we two arranged that, you’ll volunteer being send two thousands of light years away from Earth to a planet Olerob for our environment is not appropriate for such extraordinary brain operations. We also arranged that well wipe your current memories temporarly for not causing some heavy damaged to a brain…just like in computers,,, when you setup new operation system, its safer to have it installed to a completely formatted hard disk, rather than on unformatted one… So we did…Formulated artificial memories of particular bum of Baku, and made you to enroll to a Global Unemployee Exchange program that was faked as well… The project Bolero is the reversed variant of Olerob having noting to do with Spanish dance or opera of French composer Morris Ravel…We’ve send you to United States thus presuming it would be easier to protect you there…but everything went upside down after info-leakage in our cosmopolitan agency…Every day after eleven you were remotely shut up like a television, thus changing  your memories back to normal, what would help us to draw our plans together…behind the bathroom we had a secret office room with highly dense and sound deadening walls where we were initiating remote attacks and memory-shiftings together…

-         May Allah forgive me,,,but what exactly they did to me these maniac aliens, what sort of advantage I have others are devoid of?

-         After they activated 98.4 percents of your brain cell, stimulating it with their special matters, now you have 3 kind of super power skills that other would be sacrifice all they have to possess.

First you are now a communication mean between planet Earth and Olerob, thus there’s no more need for sending 2 earth year long messages through open space. You are instant messenger…By you we are coordinating our plans with central administration of Olerob and other planets of alliance…

Second is that, you can transfer anybodies memory you want, without his awareness, even from long distances,…Last week I see you searched for the saying of Haiti will not die…Sure that it was the words of Haitian president whom you’ve never seen in real but was synchronically interpreting his actual memories and even under conscious intentions…Via such skill we detect the masons among people with political, economical or cultural power.

And third skill is most brilliant one…You can alter the memories of anyone you want…Actually we defined this skill after you programmed the man named  Ben Adler just as you liked…In actual when signing you up in Bolero, like a bum, Ben Adler was randomly chosen name who I’sure that never even heard anything named Bolero…But you unintentionally altered this man’s actual memories to a artificial ones…

-         OK…what about Tuncay…what did you do to a kid…

-         Actually it was our first and big mistake to have you employed by him…In real he’s name was Georg Papadopulos, born in Cyprus, an agent indirectly hired by masons…He was send to assassinate you after information regarding your skills would be confirmed after several days of observations. But again you unconsciously made him postpone your murder…That’s all and your family is in safe hands

-         Where are they?

-         In a place that has no possibility to come to the mind of Baphomet,- in a Gaza strip, the main area of clashings…They are protected by aliens, oh…and by the way the two customers saved you at store was aliens as well

-         Who’s Baphomet?

-         The evil master of masons whom we’ve been looking for decades…Now are you ready to get started…we have lots of things to do…

-         I have only one request,,, one week off and please send me back to Olerob, I want to see it with my own eyes…

-         Your wish is granted…We’ll be waiting for you…May Allah save and protect you…

 

 

“Fainna maal usri yusra…Inna maal usri yusra” - So, verily, with every difficulty, there is relief… Verily, with every difficulty there is relief. Holy Koran, Surah 94.5-6 (translation of www.islamicity.com)

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 6

Kidnapped

Peace, harmony, relaxation had been really lacking for Ahmed these days, even in dreams. Now, however he was totally loose – just like ghost and he was dreaming not. Three, two, one…opened his eyes and found himself lying on the beside path of old three-store building. Someone behind him that time whom he didn’t see at first, give a slight kick on his synchronically folded legs maybe to check his OK or not. “Salam… I don’t have time to tell you everything now, too risky here…so stand up and follow me…I know what they did to you…” Salam in Arabian meant “peace be upon you” so it made him sure that he the man he was looking for all these strain days and nights…He was a small but mature man over 40, wearing short  brown trousers and green winter jacket with congruous green cap on head. They went more than twenty meter towards the building then suddenly turning left. Man in green stopped beside the garden gates for a second or two and examined the area for any chasings and needless witnesses. Then he looked to Ahmed’s eyes and said…

“Get inside…go strait till you reach your doctor”

“a doctor”

-         Come on, hurry up, we don’t have time…

-         OK…OK- telling he entered the gate moving through narrow path toward building enclosed by tall stone wall but without enclosure from both sides. He just made three-four steps when he felt some liquid or something sprayed on his neck…He again lost his concentration, and falling down uttered “Not again”

 

***                       ***                       ***

All around was in black darkness, only light of birds-eye which made him almost blind…

-         We’ll you talk or not…you beast…what are the plans of Olerob and Bolero, which president you checked yesterday…

-         Unfortunately I don’t not what the heck are you talking about…We better together find the answers to such puzzle question…I swear I know nothing

Two hours of brutal torture, nose and mouse painted with already clotted blood streams,,, now they threatened to pull out his toe nails one-by-one, unless  he talked. But as a matter of fact, he found himself rather brave and enduring amid bloody maniacsome torture…like  he nervous system was ignoring the signals of pain…It would seem crazy…but it was pretty funny for him…

-         How many of you Olerob has…Ha…you pig…You thing you’re smarter ha…you see what I have on my head- it was sort of cap in shape of disc with different metal things and electronic panel on it giving out crazy reflections of green, blue, orange and white.- these is a anti-penetration shield…you can no how penetrate my memories now…

-         Penetrate your what…what a scrap are you talking…your memories…who you think am i…

-         OK..thats the last straw…At least, we were going to kill you eventually…- coming near bound on chair Ahmed touched the pistol on his forehead… “Say good by to your Bolero you stubborn ass” he was already going to pull the trigger when all premises got beset with green steam-some matters what he saw when working in grocery…Shootings and sounds of falling bodies…Gas made him dizzy…He only felt strange armed men on unforeseen uniform unbound him and carried on their hand in a run like mama caries her sleeping baby when house is in fire

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 5

Ben Adler arrives

 

After getting in touch with Ben Adler, they have settled down on that Ben will arrive in Baku within a week for identifying what was going with them two at last. Lost memories of his real life as Ahmed Tagizadeh was gradually coming back on track…thus he probability percents like was mentioned above went vice-versa…Now he was sure that his memory package as Malik Yetim – a bum was a fake intentionally formulated by some supernatural power or something like that…But how and why one would do it?...Nevertheless, he was unable to stand all night awake in order to convince himself that nothing is happing to him again like it was with bathroom-case before. When asking his wife or daughter, they would assure him that he was in his bed all night long.

But everyday after he woke up, he saw strange distortions of memories, strange bloody visions – what made them strange was the fact that visions was of political nature…The first thing he utters after opening his eyes in his bed, is sort of  bunch of words from someones speech… “…has a lack of determination” the other day “ this we’ll end the war Darfur”,  next day “Ours is not the caravan of despair”. If there were any kind a person names then it would have been easer to guess the quest. Eventhough, a day before Adlers arrival it came to him that maybe he should solve it by again using internet…and it was good choice thus he found that what was uttered by him this morning “Haiti will not die” was the words of Haitian president Rene Preval, who tried to cheer up the nation after devastating earth quake with thousand of atrocities.

But how the word of Rene Preval could get into his mysterious brain, taking into account that he didn’t even watch foreign news on television.

In order to check the reality of time range as Yetim Malik he paid a visit to an ancient part of the city – inner city called Ichari shahar…walls, apartments, windows, modern inns, even most cars (in particular, cars of local residents) were almost the same as it was 3 month ago…So he’s lifespan as bum was also real…Then only explanation left was that, all people around him has been hypnotized to believe that Ahmed was absent only for a week, not more than that. Why.,,Why he was shifted to other person without he own mental presence in that. Therefore thing were getting painy exciting to bear till Adler’s arrival.

On Monday, before his plane took off, Adler gave him a message by cell phone that he’s already on his way to Baku and would arrive on Tuesday evening.

He made all kind of preparations at home for the day of tomorrow – which we’ll at last somehow clear up the whole matter. Before leaving home, he sneaked to kitchen and chose little knife just in case. The threat of pursuit made him be more rational and consider all kind of precautions.

 

***                         ***                       ***

After meeting in airport they took a cab and made their way to city center as airport was in suburban area called Bina with lower density of population and less developed infrastructure.

Adler appeared to be rather odd young guy, not communicative one, of extremely melancholic disposition, short answers to every question…After few questions sort of “how you doing” “how was weather in America”, Ahmed skipped the formalities and gave his first question on real matter. They were yet inside the taxi which had already passed by underground station Azizbeyov.

-         Who are they and what they want…

-         I think its sort of…hmm…sort of secret project maybe on creation of false memories or something like that…

-         That’s really odd,…that was always priority among my self-explanations of what was going around…and what else  do you know about it…

-         Hmm…after eleven something bad happens to me daily, but I don’t remember exactly what…- he was so pale like someone was forcing him to speak something he didn’t want to. Bald haircut, blue eyes, curved Caesar-some nose shape, slightly humpbacked spine.

-         I had a friend who saw me entering the bathroom every night and staying there all midnight long, his name was Tuncay…

-         What you just said…

-         He’s name was Tuncay, Turkish student with American citizenship.

-         Its not possible…Your are talking the same thing I know…Tuncay was your roommate?

-         Yes,,,how did you know that.

-         No…something very…very bad is going on kid…- he uttered when suddenly taxi drivers stopped the car by brutally braking. Everything was happening so fast that, he couldn’t even recall about the knife hidden in the coat pocket. The door beside Adler shoot up with devastating power, however without damaging Adler physically. He only saw a fat hand and fingers of unknown person in a split second giving Adler injection on throat. And then with other man as well he began pulling Adler out of cab. Taxi driver lost his faint seeing this kind of brutal things…or maybe he pretended as one in order not to become unnecessary witness. A second later after his brain had adapted to a such unpredictable changing conditions, he jumped to the paralysed body of Adler, not letting him out when he saw the second man grabbing Adler…It was him…of course…assistant manager…who made him sign Bolero…Ahmed was so persistently holding the Adler that he did not even notice how the back door opened, and something cold hit him on crown of the head. Holding fingers stopped listening commands coming from his brain, and loosened gradually. He started seeing everything in pale and dizzy vision when his eyes closed at all. He only heard far voices of these men in black and one tiny message, maybe of that assistant manager “You idiot…YOU, YOU made him believe that…He has never attended Bolero…” and the sounds of closing doors. He fell into deep sleep.

 

CHAPTER 4

 

CHAPTER 4

Eliminate the witness! or changing conditions

Loud step noises coming out of neighbor room, awaked him automatically. In a split seconds, Tuncay got up and moved toward the room door that was currently closed. When getting out of room, he happened to see Malik moving toward the bathroom. Though he couldn’t see his face…So ran as fast as he can before Malik closed the lock of the bath door from inside. He grabed his hand to turn him back,when he felt very chilly, like someone had put tiny ice cubes all over his body. Reflectively he jumped back from coarse cold coming out of his body. Malik was paying no attention just continuing his silent steps…What scared Tuncay’s pants off was the fact that Malik was moving absolutely silent, no breath no other voice … Absolute silence…  Paralyzed with unforeseen vision- the gradually appearing green beams around his body, he watched this old Azeri man enter the bathroom and door closed. However he was sure that Malik was not the one who closed the door behind him. Green phosphorsome lights was yet seen out of the gaps under the door. When lights was gone, Tuncay got up as well. It seemed like the green light had a special power of paralyzing all around if needed.  He immediately rashed to door, sharply turned the handle of the door, but   without any success soever. “ Uncle Malik, can you hear,,,I thing something terrible is happening to you, so now I’ll get you out of this bathroom no matter what’s going to happen there…Just hold on there”. He made some hits with his shoulders but door did not  even give out any sound, what can be considered bizarre for an old wooden door. “Just be there,,,I’m coming now” saying ran back to his room, to pick anything ranging from screwdriver to little hammer to somehow break the barrier  that was currently separating two good friends.

When again ejecting himself out of room with superspeed, but what he so in front of the door, made him stop his feet immediately. Though, undergone to inertia, he slid almost 2 metres ahead through the smooth and polished wooden floor. What he saw was – Professor Maxwell the retired at age 62 the owner of the house. He had a horrible and menacing look now, leaning against the door to show that Tuncay could enter the room only over his dead body.

“Go back to your room, kid…Bathroom is out of order, you see we need to call a plumber”

-         But, Mr Maxwell, Malik needs our help… I think something’s wrong with him there.

-         Theres nobody there,…I think you was dreaming…I have been here all the time…already two ours…handling with this junked old sewer.

-         Its not  possible

-         Hmm…I don’t understand you,,,come on check your friend if you think this old man nuts.

He was just turning the handle of Maliks room that, he felt thundersome pain in his head…Someone was all the time behind him…when talking to old man and waiting for proper moment…The last thing he saw was black-red blood coming down his childish forehead…and darkness…that transferred him to the life of no lies…the absolute reality- as once told ancient greek philosopher, thus the life hereafter.   

 

 

***                       ***                       ***

-         Things are getting to serious

-         Hmm…You’re right, I think we should reconsider our schedule

 

***                       ***                       ***

 

 

“No, no…don’t. Please don’t…” talking in dream he was, when he felt gentle woman hand touching his forehead.

-         Its OK dad…

-         What’s up with him- asked another woman voice from not a close distance, like she was in other room…Both of them spoke in Azeri

-         Nothing mom, just dad, was having a horrible dream, I presume.

When Malik opened his eyes he was astonished to see these two strange women, young brunette girl of teenage, and another mature woman, but rather good looking one, coming out of kitchen, at the same time polishing the dish with for not wasting the time. But young girl, had a pretty familiar face…Like he saw her somehow a year before somewhere…He was shocked to open his eyez in other apartment, where the conversation was going on his own language – what he was longing for over 3 month.

-         Excuse me for disturbing you, but where am I now…And who you’re supposed to be…

Both women fell into deep laughing. Elder woman suddenly made a serious and threatening face like Iosif Stalin

-         We are Mars residents, we kidnapped you for waging unforeseen studies on you, human being…

And again heavy laugh burst…

-         No I’m serious

-         What’s up with you dad, are you kidding or what…

Suddenly he recalled the face of youngster…He was ninety nine percent sure that it was her…

-         Now, I remember you…You’re the girl confused me with your father in Ichari Shahar, 3 month before…remember…

-         What are you talking dad, why I must confuse you…And besides, I haven’t been to Ichari shahar since I know myself…What should I do there…You came yesterday after a one week business trip to Japan. You’re now in Baku

-         Baku, but its not possible, I was…I …What’s up with Tuncay, poor kid…I knew that something was wrong with this project…Almighty Allah, I don’t even remember the name, what was the name… “Ero”, “eso”, nop “belo”… “Bolero”. He suddenly stood up…My memories is mixed, so I don’t know which one of my lifestyles is reality…am I really head of family or pathetic bum, that would have had better life if not involved in this freaken project.

Show me our photo albums, video footage or something,,, anything to refresh my memories…Then we’ll go to Global Unemployees Exchange Organization office.

-         What is that…

-         Don’t you know, its branch of UN, founded in 2015 or something like that

-         Dad, I thing, you are still dreaming…what you’re talking about…Its yet 2010.

Such news, did not even shock him, ‘cos he already was full with such surprises…

-         Never mind with that…and by the way what is my name?

-         Ahmed Tagizade…

-         Where do I work?

-         Hmm – United Nations Organization – Department of Public Information…

-         Oh…my…God….Oh…my…God…OK what is next…Have I not yet purchased hundred tons of cocain from Columbia

 

***                       ***                       ***

 “Look, Ahmad, my friend, you know that we know each other already two years…So what you would do if you were in my place…What for heavens sake did you it in Japan…Wasabi or something…I’m sure something has happened to you there…Look, I have never  heard such kind a bull crap, even in documentaries about secret project…I’m keeping up to date of even every tiny details of news coming from New York, and I don’t think Ban Ki Moon would   conceal something from me, if he’s up to sort of project making. I can tell you that, good rest, must have you, indeed… So I’ll be waiting for you after a week…However at home please prepare the comprehensive report of your activities in Japan, during the annual Environmental Conference” – said the UN Azerbaijan office resident when having one-on-one chat with Malik – currently Ahmad Tagizade, allegedly UNDPI  deputy resident coordinator.

-         Dad, how was your meeting- asked Camila, the only daughter of Ahmad…

-         Unfortunately, very bad…He thinks that I’m out of my mind so gave me a week-off.

-         Wow sounds perfect…Now you have time to arrange our travel to Antalya…

-         Nop…I have things to do now,,,and besides he was Ahmed, your father who gave you such promises not me…I’m yet Malik, my real personality, Malik or Ahmed is not yet defined…Almost 30 to 70. But I’m gonna find it out no matter how matter time it takes. Do you have internet connection.

-         Ofcourse, wireless, you bought it last year and hi-tech, super german laptop, when heavy snow covered the streets of Baku, don’t you remember dad.

-         Stop giving same sort of questions and go bring the laptop

As soon as she disappeared, he began interiorly  thinking out appropriate key words for search at internet. He sat down on cosy sofa gave a short glance on a table, tasty looking Plov was yet giving out steams as it was high time he ate the dinner. But he postponed it till finishing the search on internet.

-         Here you are, you are already logged so open browser and enter wherever you want, I have no anti-fishing system…

-         You think I understood anything of what you told me- said Ahmed returning the laptop to his daughter…

-         You will help me…

-         OK… I can do my homework any later..

-         First enter any search engine…which one is the best

-         By all means, Google.OK- she began typing like a thunder. she seemed to have chatted on net so many times…- www.google.com. So what next…what we are going to search.

-         Type down “project Bolero” exchange

-         Project BOLERO – Bolero with capital letters…

-         I think it makes no difference.

-         BOLERO

-         Come on, press enter key

-         Whola, over 2 million foundings…

-         Look for exact writting , project Bolero

-         There’s one…Here. But its Bolero project…

-         Open it…

-         Hmm…Its an article from Wikipedia…you know virtual encyclopedia…it says… “Bolero Project is an ArtistShare recording project led by Latin singer Leonardo Granados and jazz pianist Edward Simon”... “ArtistShare has been well known for their "fan funded" projects which expose the creative process of music making to fans. "Bolero Project" is an appreciation of boleros, a sensual dance music wide spread in South America. The project is dedicated to Simon's father who introduced the music to him and Granados' mother as a special gift. All the boleros are interpreted into jazz/improvisation style with Simon providing arrangements and Granados providing vocal interpretations”

-         No its something regarding jazz… look for next one

-         We have project bolero.net…lets open it in other tab…here…its green project I think…yes sure… “objective is To "de-materialise paper" in ALL its forms by producing an acceptable electronic substitute”

-         Continue

-         No appropriate ones in first page lets go to second…

-         No wait a minute…what is that in the seventh position…the words project olerob and exchange with bold

-         Its personal blog…

-         Enter, now

-         Ok..Ok…what’s hurry…here personel blog…Sort of an complaint article or what,…with heading “I was kidnapped”

-         Bingo…you go have your dinner, I must read it by myself…And by the way youre doing good with your English

-         Oh, thank you dad

The blog contained this message

“…I don’t exactly know what’s happening to me, whether I’m going crazy or really came from 2017…It was sort of project mastered by United Nations Organization – dubbed OLEROB… I used to be a bum …But after I was involved in this project, when applying in Global Unemployees Exchange Organization office, something has gone wrong…Last thing I remember was that I was send to Azerbaijan. I lost part of my memories,,, now I’m 23 year old guy, having education in Detroit state college, but I can swear to God that, I was a decades older before applying for this project. I thing they had been doing sort of secret experiments on me…so please if there’s anyone knowing something about this project get in touch by underwritten e-mail…Ben Adler”

When he saw the name Ben Adler, he reflectively jumped off his chair…luckily laptop was on small sofa-side table. He recalled the words of assistant manager said months ago… “And finally, you’ll be exchanged with Ben Adler, USA…You’ll better remember this name”

The next thing what astonished him mostly was the date shown under the blog:

“Created: 10 minutes before”

 

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 3

3 months past

 

“The only thing that had been worrying me all the time was, that how they could solve all my problems, thus, documents, flight tickets, rent room of old american couples, immediate job in grocery store, preliminary health insurance or how they call it medical insurance, operative welcome of my arrival at airport…within short period of time. It seems to me like in a movie…Perfect preparation. But did I really deserve. This question came to my mind not one time” will tell Malik year later.

The grocery store had Spanish name Corrida – without anything to do with the store itself…It was named tactlessly he thought. The first month was rather cumbersome to him, bearing in mind the fact that he was learning the English simultaneously.  It was rather odd that in a country where market competition was unrelenting, that any kind of counterproductive timesheet is punished by being fired, yet he was not fired. Seeing such a politeness, he was doing his best to learn to speak properly and to gain a full customer satisfaction. He also had a small, but not so small, advantage indeed, that he’s colleague was Turkish, but American born citizen, student thus Azeri and Turkish are of the same origin, pretty like British and American English…So they had no complications understanding each other “fighting with claws” in order to come out ahead to the end of every single week…The he discovered boy’s money outfall that he had an unscrupulous “emo” girlfriend that was almost devouring poor guys money earned with sweat and blood. Love made him so pathetic... Age 23, he’s name was Tuncay. Tall young guy with muscled bone-structure and kidish face complexion, tiny black eyes, short haircut black as Mexican oil. He was also sharing rent room with Malik – the one who hadn’t long felt convenience of sleeping in mild, cosy bed.

-         Today manager was so angry, may Allah forbid, maybe he has some family problems, what do you think Tuncay…I didn’t get quite everything he told me…You know…My listening comprehension is not yet alright…

-         He says you don’t have to start working aggressively and fearfully when you see him (manager) coming…You have quite different psychology,…Why you are so frightened from boss, do you have sort of “bossaphobia” or something?

-         That is something habitual, in my country, boss is real boss, he can throw you out like a garbage, for any tiny mistake, and even if he would not like your appearance or else…They are so ruthless.

-         Oh…I see. Sorry for that…But now you are totally free person, your job is only in your hands, very much dependent on how tight or loose you’ll grab it.

-         Yeah…that’s for sure kid…

Tuncay with blushed cheeks was trying to say or ask something but was hesitating. At last he found courage to look in his eyes  and give it out.

-         Malik amca (means uncle), can you do me a favour…

-         Anything…Inshallah, within range of possibility…anything

-         At seven I have a date, so  I have to have my hair cut, you know, I look like chimpanzee these days, with curly long hair…

-         Ok..kid. But I again warn you…This shameless, insolent girl is killing you gradually destroying your future… Try to evade your temptation. Leave her!!!

Tuncay got little bit angry, so he thought no one has a right to interfere his private life. However did all his best not to burst out and preserved cold-bloodness.

-         Thank you for your advice…I’ll take into account. So Inshallah see you tomorrow…

-         You want come to house…

-         Maybe not….OK see you.

After Tuncay closed the market doors behind him, Malik gave a short but attentive glance to a market background, so to count the clients yet within grocery. There was a middle age asian woman, at daily products department, afroamerican grandpa may be at his seventies picking up some small widgets.

Suddenly Malik got a heavy headache, like someone was hammering his skull from inside. He closed his eyes, and began to see the distorted images of some bloody sceneries, gun-shots, scattered bodies, and it was in battlefield…He had been very frequently seeing these kind a surrealistic pictures these days. So it was not a surprise for him…But when the pain had gone, and he opened his eyes, he started seeing all around, quite differently, like someone has shifted the colors all around, and he could obviously see green steamsome matters moving in chaotic streams with a narrow lines, they were all around…When he again be closed his eyes an opened, the firs thing he saw was a latino guy pointing shining revolver at him maybe from 3 meter distance. However Malik was astonished to see himself so calm in such a strain conditions, he felt like he had all the situation under control...He caressed his small beard with right hand and look directly to latinos face ironically smiling…It made latino mad…

-         What you lookin, moron,…bring out the money…hurry up, old asshole.

-         Cahannam ol, ogrash oglu ogrash – swore in Azeri (Go to hell, son of a pimp)

-         Hey, I don’t know what you saying you freaken arab, but any more words, and I’ll open big hole on head for ever memory,...hurry up, give me the money…

-         No honey no money – wow its first time I use sayings in English, how was that…

-         Are you freaken out of your mind,

He was already to pull the trigger that, the old afroamerican customer, exerting all his energy rushed onto gunman and grabbing from his hand, tried to somehow, take  the revolver from him…But it was a big mistake…Instant shot at heart from short distance, with the strongest revolver ever – magnum made this courage old man die within seconds. He again turned his face to Malik, and again touched the trigger. He was so shocked to see old Caucasian salesman still be alive. At the time of shooting asian women –the other customer, almost jumped a meter to save the bullet destined to Malik with her body… Both Malik and latino guy, stood like an iron, no move, no sound, even there eyes were not moving,,,they were just freezed. No of them understood such behavior of customers. You don’t everyday witness such heroic act in America, particularly if they are sacrificing there lives for unknown foreign salesman, who most probably, even don’t have a green card. Latino guy never practiced psychology so he was less involved in analyses of such irrational behavior…Rather he was thinking “What to do next?” Approaching  siren sounds of police cars, somehow, awakened them from such stance. Latino guy pointing the revolver at him

-         I don’t believe in trinity stuff…so die you, idiot.

He pulled the trigger, but there was no shot…again…,again,,,once again…At last it came to him that, there was no more cartridge left in roll.

-         You lucky pig…-saying he hitted Malik with the butt from head and escaped. When police reach the market, he saw two dead bodies and one lost his faint from heavy punch…

 

***                       ***                       ***

-         And how do you thing, what that all means…some kind a “anticonspiracy theory”, ha…- asked Tuncay ironically.

-         You see, kid, I don’t get only one thing, why everyone so symphatize me, even police officer, who said there’s no need for my testimony, damn…how can it be possible, there was two dead bodies, and one who died saving me from mortal shot, why there’s no need for testimony,,,that’s dumb, and he told me they’ll call me if there’s any necessity. Kid, he did not even ask me how the shooter looked like, you know his appearance…

-         Hmm…You see the exchange program your’re involved in, its sort of UN funded,,,I think this is the answer…You’d better get acquainted  with program’s guidelines, charter or something, you know, documents regarding terms and conditions…I’m sure it is the clue indeed…No anti-conspiracy theory…ha-ha-ha…Wow, I’m already thinking like an medieval philosopher… what a word, anti-conspiracy…

-         You’re talking funny…Well, never mind with that…

The conversation was going on the second floor of the house rented by these two from old couples - both retired musicians thus violinist and flute player – with a good lump of rental.  Each of them, Malik and Tuncay, had separate rooms with only one bathroom at the dead end of the second floor. But basicly Tuncay visited Maliks room when he felt bored. Malik was a fun man for his age with aristocratic sense of humour.     

-         By the way, what did you say to your girlfriend, when she asked about money…you again told the truth and gave her all the money, didn’t you?

-         Uncle Malik, you know what kind of person I’m, so I presume its senseless to give same kind a questions all the time…I told you that, its something hereditary, that I can’t tell a lie…its like a curse,,, when deceive someone then it causes undesirable and heavy consequences for me…or I get kicked by New Jersey gangs or hit by yellow cab what, comes out then, is driven by a guy who don’t even have a license.

-         Yeah…I see superstitions is fixed on you. The let me give you such an ideal option…you know, for you conscience sake. But first you have to listen to an old but real story in order to get the whole point.

-         Have you heard anything about Shah Ismael Hatai…

-         Yes…as far as I know he was your medieval king that founded Safavi state which invaded almost whole Arabian peninsula, until our Turkish sultan punished him in great battle Chaldiran

-         Sure…1514 August 23…pointless battle ever in the history of mankind,,,between two brother states, pointless blood shed of turks –azeri and osmanli turks…Yes…you know that he was very young when he came to power and founded his own state Safavi state…almost whole Azerbaijani areas, thus todays current Azerbaijan, Armenia –that time Iravan, and Southern Iran…after scattering his ruthless enemies…

-         So…

-         So…After his father was killed, the king of that times thought that it is very risky, to let another members of Safavi clan scot-free, so he order his men to kill all of three brother – the last members of Safavi family…All brothers was killed but Ismael…at age of 13. Thus this happened because the master of Gilan in Iran gave a refuge to poor boy,…he was loyal muslim, sheer obedient wise man- both in fate and deeds…However he was sure that the king will somehow hear about this secret and send his troops to check the uprightness of rumors. So when he heard troops coming, he bound little Ismael with ropes and hanged him from the tree so that he’s feet won’t touch the ground…

-         Hmm…Interesting…why?

-         This is the main implication of the story which has similarity with your case…so when the troops came he swore – literally- that “By Allah, in whose hand is my soul, the feet of Ismael Safavi is not on Gilani ground”. Thus he swore,,,he told the truth,,,and by such a wise option he remained both faithfull to his oath, and saved the Ismael from being murdered- which then would become the giant warlord, commander, poet and philosopher…

-         So…whats your proposal now…

-         Doing the same…

-         Hmm…sounds challenging…

Although Malik had already taken aspirin headache was getting harsher. So he freely making himself fall into bed, he tried to eliminate the pain by massaging.

-         Uncle Malik…

-         What kid…

-         I’ve been worrying for you recently,,,ask me why?

-         Why?

-         Its already six days in the row that you enter the bathroom after eleven and stay there till morning…I wonder what you’re doing there all night long…

-         You must be kidding…I close my eyes in bed, I open my eyes in bed…I’m sure you’re confusing something…

Tuncay came close and sat down on the other corner of the bed, turning his back to him…

-         Nop, I’m sure ‘cos I checked you all the time this week…I had a terrible stomacache in the midnight a week before. I saw you silently getting out of your room without closing the door and staggering toward bathroom like a ghost, may Allah forbid, but swear to all precious I have in life, you stayed there all the night…If there’s sort of problem so, if you find it inadequate sharing with me, so I’ll understand it..

-         Nonsense…Why should I have a kind a problem to hide it in bathroom…what sort of idiotic presumption…No I swear I don’t know what are you talking about.

-         Then its OK…You see, I’ve recently wacthed a tv documentary about the men like you, you know, sleepwalkers…Almost one fifth of people have at least one time sleepwalked in their life.

Headache was already gone. Maybe the new stuff about late nightwalking made him irrationally shift off the pain. Getting up:

-         I must confess, me also don’t remember, anything done after eleven…Like I’m turned off after that time…No dreams no memories, just black blank… and after I get up new sceneries and pictures moving in my brain periodically, in particular, before lunch time at work…Today you must check it again and awake me if I happen to get into bathroom again.