WHAT IS MANNA?

On an essay. What Was Manna?written by Prof. Roger Wotton, in UCL in UK

Manna is a physical entity, depicted as a supernatural origin in the Old Testament . This physical entity has some characteristics that have been mentioned in the Bible. Book of Number, The most crucial statement about the manna is. ‘Arriving with the dew during the night,’ Probably,the environment approach provide the condition for the chemical formation of the entity . Exodus adds that manna was comparable to hoarfrost in size, similarly had to be collected before it was melted by the heat of the sun , and was white like coriander seed in color. after collecting it may become like bdellium.

The Holly text is reciting, in the time when Israelites had been wandering in the wilderness for so many years, and they built this unique relation with a material fell down on the way they passed through. They called it Manna. (Manna, obviously, in Hebrew language , is some thing bestowed, and has a heavenly origin.) Some dictionaries state the definition in this way: An ash tree which exudes a sweet edible gum (manna) from its branches when they are damaged, native to Southern Europe and South West Asia. But, this way of bestowing would not fascinate any mind, if it was not heavenly originated.

But, in considering manna not heavenly originated, yet, as a falling material from the sky, would be ranked such as rain or snow. Whilst storms and Tornados are less heavenly ranked, and if they carried manna away with all kinds of dirt, eventually would make a mixture of manna and all kind of dirt, and manna would disappear midst the huge amount of dirt . ( Here, according to my knowledge, in counting all regions with extreme storm around the world, no traces of manna could be found.)

Tornado, or the Khamsin or khamasin wind would not help the formation of Manna , on contrary it is against the congregating of the particles of the material. In Egypt, Khamsin usually arrives in April but occasionally occur in March and May, carrying great quantities of sand and dust from the deserts, with a speed up to 140 kilometers per hour. The khamasin wind is hot and dry and dusty far different from ‘Arriving with the dew during the night.’

During Napoleon’s Egyptian campaign the French soldiers had a hard time with Khamsin: when the storm appeared "As a blood-stint in the distant sky", the natives went to take cover, while the French "Did not react until it was too late, then choked and fainted in the blinding, suffocating walls of dust, instead of falling of Manna.

How Moses and Herron behaved at Sinai during Khamasin? Probably not like Napoleon’s soldiers, since they were familiar with Khamasin.

Personally I crossed Sinai and for a long time have being thinking about Manna- Sinai, and came to a conclusion, if Manna fell down for Israelite at that time, it would never falls on Sinai of this new earth environment, because there is no manna’s primal material above Sinai now and long time ago, to proceed the process of creation of the main component of that terrestrial featured -sky entity.(Simply sugar.) The main component of Manna.

Therefore, the crucial question would be , what are sugar’s components ? Definitely, the simplest chemical structure of sugar is made of Hydrogen, Oxygen, and carbon Monosaccharides are the simple sugar, the most important is glucose. Almost all sugars have the formula CnH2nOn (n is between 3 and 7). Glucose formula is C6H12O6. Therefore for each molecules we need carbon, hydrogen, oxygen in the ratio n/2n/n. in a specific arrangement to make sugar not lipid.

In answering the question. Is there a natural plant in the sky producing such kind of sugar ? Definitely there is such a plant… higher or in several hundred meters above the sea level, where in the space a specific area with the environment of temperature, pressure, and humidity etc, working in harmony, in a specific area, definitely becomes the imaginary plant of manna.

Now, the question is: is not air made of nitrogen , oxygen hydrogen carbon and all other gases and also water vapor, and all together are exposed to a wide range of pressure and temperature in the sky somewhere above some regions. (Personally watched the weather during falling Manna {Gezo] on Kurdistan heights, it is known for everyone there, how to collect the manna . I also read about manna production of Terengin in Iran. Terengin may be somehow a different type, of gezo forming in lower temperature, or under different pressure .

Therefore, in conclusion , the most reliable theory is: the formation of the physical entity manna is depending on the existing of the basic component of sugar in Air {Carbon, Hydrogen and Oxygen , with possibility being mixed with other particles , or materials during its local journey, like rain or hail.). All this under a special condition: required temperature, special pressure, and humidity or even a magic thunder or even catalysts. Researches could be conducted for proving the origin of manna practically in some places . A simple design depending on balloons left on deferent heights with sensors watching the formation of the manna in a such environment could answer all our questions.

My warm thanks.

Best Regards
Kay H.

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REMAINS OF 1988

KAY  Hay

The years reel by—a filmstrip unravelling, not forward but into itself, trapping me in an eternal rewind where time gnaws its own edges. A flashing scene erupts, a moment of rupture: chaos, motion, voices colliding in the airport’s endless churn, a maelstrom of existence that screams without sound. And then—gravity, not a force but a hunger, wrenching my gaze, snagging my entire being on something small, yet impossibly heavy: A bunch of paper scraps. Abandoned? No—waiting, their presence deliberate, an event horizon demanding collapse, pulling reality into their orbit. Fate? Probability? No. This is something else—preordained yet lawless, a paradox that mocks divinity’s grasp. I pick them up, and the world tilts, almost imperceptibly, as if creation itself stumbles. Somewhere, someone watches: a lost sibling with their voice a female tone, both alien and mine; a shadow folded between dimensions, their pulse of recognition sourceless, a vibration that shatters my marrow. My senses sharpen—doglike in their hunger, sniffing, clawing at the air—but no matter how deeply I inhale, how feverishly I scan the sea of faces, the author is not there. Or perhaps they are too much there, so vast they slip past the limits of space, time, even the divine, a presence that burns through eternity’s veil. The scraps are no mere paper—they pulse, alive with glyphs that writhe, each mark a wound in existence, rewriting itself before I can blink. I do what must be done, though I resist; they come to me, a treasure unwanted but irresistible, pulling me like matter bends toward the singularity. The airport is no longer a place but a fracture, its corridors looping into voids, its clocks spitting ash. Faces flicker—each a shard of the sibling, each a mirage, dissolving as I reach. I am feral, my senses razor-sharp yet blind, chasing a trail that erases itself. I think abnormally—not by choice, not by curiosity, but by their inescapable demand. My journey, however, came to the end.

My mind fractured under their weight, even under the gravity of the letter’s incomplete content —my fear of incompleteness grew, swelled, and consumed me. 

I fell ill, indeed.

A year passes—or forever, for time splinters in their glare—deciphering them, unearthing a story never meant to be told, a narrative that devours its own meaning. Each scrap tells a lie that is truth: of a sibling who wove the first thread of reality, then cut it; of a love that drowned the cosmos in its own tears. The story shifts, a labyrinth with no walls, growing thorns, then wings, then nothing—only to reform sharper, heavier, hungrier.. The scraps demand I weave them, but they defy thread. I bind them with will, with screams, each stitch birthing a universe that implodes. The story I uncover is a blasphemy against all that is: it speaks, then denies its voice; it exists, then unmakes existence. I send it spiralling outward, calling across the abyss—not for answer, but to wound eternity itself. The scraps tremble, multiply, scatter into new codices, each a void spawning voids. The silence that follows roars with absence. I am no longer myself—I am the scraps, the unravelling, the abyss. And somewhere, beyond the divine’s broken reach, the sibling’s shadow hums a song that ends all songs.

“No matter how cruel, how rootless I am—

My mysterious lady, my ever-wondrous spectre—

You orbit me like a dead sun, a thing that should not shine, but does.

Forgive me. I’m sorry for sharing your memory.

And yet, they say every great story needs a rogue Jonah.

I am yours.”

Fragments of the Past

Against fate itself, I pieced together the remnants of a soul. Each page was a wound, each line a scar. Fifty-seven weathered sheets, trembling with the weight of a life shattered—but unbroken. Her courage lay before me: raw, unburied, incandescent with pain.

"I found myself amidst the ruins of my mother.

My fingers traced the brittle contours of her skull,

the fragile architecture of memory itself.

Bone to dust, dust to whispers—I listened to what remained.

But duty called like a storm without mercy,

dragging me into the abyss of night.

I left her behind—her cursed shell

abandoned to a thousand unseen eyes."

—[Unreadable paragraphs.]

"Shepherds with no faces led me

to the edge of a great valley.

They left me there—nameless—among

the desolate rocks of the Heights,

with only my daughter clinging to the silence.

'To whomever you may be,'

I murmured into the void,

'my deepest gratitude,

dear dearest, dearest…’"

I whisper, almost without knowing:

“Whoever you were, I am grateful. Dear dearest, dearest…”

1988.

I remember. And I say:

I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

And nothing stains that absolute truth.

[—Unreadable paragraph.]

"When they threw my brother from the sky,

I saw his eyes flash—twin stars, wide and disbelieving.

The soldiers had found him where he lay,

bleeding into the battlefield,

and they took him not as a prisoner, not as a man,

but as an experiment.

A body to be tested. A lesson to be taught.

They dragged him to the plane,

flew him high above his land,

and cast him into the void."

"As he fell, the sky itself split with laughter.

The soldiers screamed after him,

their voices jagged with mockery:

‘These are your rocks, bastard. Not ours.

You think so, bastard? You are dreaming.’"

And the rocks received him—

like a shapeless, sacred sacrifice,

offered without altar, without prayer.

(1986)

"Aftermath. Aftermath."

"I survived. A decade passed—then another.
Al-Anfal came and went, and still... I remained."

—More words, scribbled into oblivion.

"A boy stepped forward—beautiful in a way only sorrow can shape.
His face was carved from the gentlest grief.
Lips trembling, eyes shining,
his voice barely a breath beneath the weight of the years."

“Mother.”

[Many words were missing.]

"I felt it. That shape—that frame—
the outline of an angel sculpted by the agony of waiting.
He walked with such grace, such pride,
I nearly screamed: ‘The only man left in the family.’
I stood frozen."

‘Mother, I have searched for you for so long.’

‘Touch his face. Hold him. Kiss him,’
my friend wept beside me.
But I just stood there—shaking,
a wretched creature,
my mind emptied, my tongue dead in my mouth.
‘You can. You can,’ my friend cried again."

(Much of what follows is lost.)

"God—torture me not, I beg you.
I beg you, Almighty."

"I was speaking to no one. To the silence.
And then he said:
‘I always kept your picture with me.’"

1999.

Absolute Motherhood

What the soul knows before the mind surrenders

(Many words are missing. Torn. Buried. Burned.)

“He is not your son. He is not your son.”

"Do not get carried away with your longing," they warned.

"These are dangerous times. One must be careful."

“O Golden Heights.”

“Golden breeding.”

“My tribe.”

[—Words scratched out, erased by trembling hands.]

"You let a stranger into your house."

"Goddamn," I whispered—

and even as the curse left my lips,

it turned to ash in my mouth.

I wanted to take it back.

I wanted to die for saying it.

"Listen to no man," my friend wept.

"He has your eyes. Your lips. Your silence.

Are you blind, or only broken?"

But I had no one.

No roots. No blood to trust.

No voice except the scream that never came.

And yet—truth does not ask.

Truth does not linger awkwardly .

It arrives like thunder without storm,

like birth without warning.

It rose—not from logic,

not from memory,

but from something older than either:

the fangs of my heart,

the marrow of my vanished soul,

the blind, brutal certainty

that lives in all who have buried too much to doubt.

I dragged his face out of the abyss—

not with hands, but with grief.

Not with proof, but with fire.

And as the shape of him reassembled

in the ruins of my knowing,

I no longer needed to wonder.

"If truth must be spoken," I said,

"then carve it into the sky:

He is my son.

He is the truth."

From that moment on,

there was nothing left to say.

Only this:

“The graveyard is no place for lies.”

I speak to paper because

there is no one left to listen.

And even silence deserves a witness.

(2000.)

                                                                          

                                                                            ***
     

My Past in Exile

The past is a venom coursing through me…

(Missing word.)

The past is not behind me. It lives inside me—buried in the marrow of my bones. It coils at the centre of who I am, watching through my skin, waiting. It doesn’t sleep. It doesn’t die. It simply waits. With every breath, I take in the dust of forgotten gods. I carry the memory of a fallen divinity—one bound in chains, shackled not by heaven but by the weight of us. He remains among us, and I say to him, gently: Farewell. I ask my own ego to destroy him. To break the chains even a god could not escape.

“Creep. Creep out,” I say.

(Many words are missing.)

I walk through memory. Not through a place, but through a wound. My town is no longer a town—it’s a scar, a breath of history trapped in stone. The air carries the weight of voices that will never be silenced. I walk deeper, along the Walk of Death, where echoes answer only themselves.

We were fools. All of us. Digging up graves, searching for meaning in bones. Unable to leave the dead alone.

“Well,” I say, quietly. “Yes.”

But in the silence of my own mind, something else stirs:

Begin the journey to the farthest edge of existence.

That sentence has lived in me for years. I’ve repeated it over and over, until I stood at the place where past and future collide. There, where our eyes meet the shadows of those who came before, we speak without words—like those who lived before time was carved into calendars.

“You cannot leave,” they tell me. “You belong to our fate. You are bound to us.” I place a hand on my chest. My heart beats fast. Unsettled. Restless.“But you cast me out,” I say. “I wanted only a place to rest. Somewhere beyond all this.”                                                      “I let go,” I tell them. “Of the rules. Of the weight. Of the traditions you said would save me.” They look at me and say, “You’ve been misled.”

“No,” I answer. “I’ve finally seen the truth.”

“Then you’ve given up,” they reply.

“I haven’t,” I say. “I’ve chosen to leave.”

“And what of your family? Will you abandon their memory?” My voice does not shake.

“My family lives among the dead.”

(Words scratched out.)

(Missing words.)

A Ghost Beside Me

The season’s breath stirred before its time, a whisper of upheaval. The wind awoke with a sudden hunger, tearing through the streets, unbalancing the steps of young scholars who did not yet know what it meant to fear. Along Pretoria Road, the towering sentinels of nature swayed—a slow, knowing rhythm—casting off their golden robes in a final, sorrowful dance. Their seeds scattered, like the echoes of my unspoken desires, drifting down the same paths my ancestors once walked, carried by invisible hands.

Then, the storm came.

It did not arrive—it descended. It crashed upon the earth, tore through the roadside sanctuaries, and roared into the hills like a god unchained. The trees bent as if bowing to an unseen king. The sky split apart.

And then—

The fire.

It rose not from accident, nor from anger, but from inevitability. The bush ignited. Not a spark, not a flicker—but a devouring, an insatiable beast of flame.

It moved like vengeance unloosed, like prophecy fulfilled.

I shrieked into the chaos, my voice breaking against the wind. “Run, run, run!”

The children ran.

Their screams were ribbons in the smoke, unraveling into the air.

I stood still.

I stood still because I had seen this before.

My ghosts whispered beside me, their voices curling in the heat. They did not beg, nor weep, nor scream. They only watched.

For I had learned this truth: the past does not chase you; it stands and waits.

I turned away from the fire only to meet another—the one that smolders inside me. A quiet, merciless burning. The weight of grievances unspoken, justice unanswered. The world, vast and indifferent, offered no reprieve. Our rights—our most basic rights—were treated not as birthright but as a plea, as if to exist itself was an act of defiance.

“I am but a dweller of the mountains,” I say.

And they reply, “You dwell at the nadir of the rock.”

But I know the truth.

Even from the lowest stone, even from the deepest valley, I hear the voices of my people. And when their bones cry out, when the wind carries their grief to my ears, what choice is left to me but to mend what has been broken?

“Stop this folly,” they warn me.

And yet, my hands do not still.

For if no one else will gather the shattered souls of my kin, then who shall?

This is beyond divinity. It is beyond godhood. It is the raw force of something older than gods—something that does not bow, that does not plead, that simply is.

Does this strike the mark, or shall we carve it deeper?

---

I walked, endlessly, down the street—each step dissolving into the next, my thoughts unraveling like a serpent shedding its skin. A thousand paces deep, I found myself submerged in a world of fragrant lavender.

Lavender—the color of dusk’s last breath, the scent of ghosts who refuse to be buried.

The rain whispered its secrets against their trembling petals.

And above the imperial avenue, I drifted. Laden with memories sharp enough to wound. The season exhaled, and I swallowed its sorrow.

“You!” I shouted into the void.

“Even in deserts, you might meet a friend,” the echo replied.

“Hold on,” I murmured. But the words did not belong to me.

They came from him—his voice, thin and spectral, seeping through the mist of my wandering. My husband, my phantom, his poetry weaving through the silence, struggling to graft itself onto my flesh.

I should confess... I’ve never truly been free of him. I am but a futile scum, a whisper lost in the wind, squandering moments in life’s vanishing gleam.

“That might bring you back, dear,” he pleads, his voice a fragile bridge between worlds.

But I—the real one, the defiant one—pull away.

“Get out of my life,” I command.

And like a ghost, I dissolve. Like whispers swallowed by the storm.

With the wind, I flee. Beneath silver sheets of rain, he calls after me.

“Bring me back.”

“We are but strangers,” I reply, my words scattering like dying embers.

“I know,” he says. And then he is gone.

Trepidation coils around me like a noose as I await his arrival. Outside, the autumn night hums, thick with unseen hands. I stand before the old apartment window, the ancient balcony beneath my feet, the weight of a thousand lifetimes pressing into my spine.

I open my palms, sifting through gemstones—their facets swallowing the light, swallowing me. Each stone bears the faces of the dead, their stories etched in silent screams.

“Gemstones are God’s favored accessories,” he once told me, and I nearly believed him.

He, my husband. The man who walked between beauty and madness.

He named me Origin of Symmetries.

The beast that read Blake in the dark.

“What immortal hand could frame thy fearful symmetry?”

I, barely breathing, whisper— “Never let the shape of me deceive you. I was always the fire.”

“Agile, like Comte de Lautréamont,” he once called me. "Made of serpents, spite, and stars."

“You are not clear, my man,” I had laughed.

“I am. I am,” he had said. “Only to those who burn the same way.”

He meant me.

Years have collapsed into dust, and only now do I see—

The tiger’s frame was mine.

I, the brutalest beauty. The deadliest thing to ever bear a name. The woman they all wanted but never owned. The phantom that burned in the eyes of a thousand suitors.

“Three symmetry rows,” he said once.

Did he ensnare me with his spell?

“Stop it,” I whisper. “Stop it.”

“Bid me farewell, dear.”

“So long, dear. So long, dear Heights.”

And in that instant, the truth uncoiled like a beast from its den. My beauty—wild, unbroken—was his opium. He had conjured me from the marrow of his mind, shaped me in the forges of obsession, painted me into his youth like a curse he could not lift.

“One thousand years ago!” I screamed, unraveling.

“Oh, Great God, he has lived in me for so long!”

“Our frames, dear,” he murmured from beyond the veil.

“My love,” I sobbed.

“So cruel you were! How dare you die without me!”

You left me to carry our fire alone.

“Cruelest. Dearest. You are dead.”

And in the silence that followed, I heard it—

The beating of my heart, hammering out his name like a death knell.

I turned.

And there it was—

The abyss.

Deep. Infinite. Its eyes staring into mine, hollow as the sockets of time itself. And I stared back—not in fear, but in recognition.

I felt the weight of the years pressing upon me, suffocating me. I dulled my senses, dimmed the ember of my existence, let the shadows swallow me whole. In obscurity, I sought my final refuge—where truth and lies are no longer distinct, where the whispers of the past dissolve into the hush of the void.

“Your course of metamorphosing...” he once began—but the sentence was never finished.

“Have we been brought up for this?” I ask the darkness.

No answer comes.

Only silence.

Only the slow decay of memory.

.                  ****

A Ghost Beside Me
(Polished Version)

I sat alone beneath the quiet, cool dusk, where the discarded shells of tetrahedrons lay scattered—mute relics of forgotten symmetry, glittering beneath the pale burgundy glow of the past. Shadows stretched long, weaving themselves into the fabric of memory.

An old Greek master stood beside me, his hands worn by centuries, his chisel steady as the pulse of time. With measured strokes, he engraved the names of my beloved ones onto the stones’ faces, binding their essence to the eternal.

“Men forget,” he mused, his voice a whisper of marble dust, “but stones do not.”

He called me The Lady of Stones.

The name fit, though it was not mine to choose.

The man himself was a relic, a living fragment of history—ancient and tasteless without his stones.

“You are not Greek, are you?” he asked, his eyes flickering with amusement.

“No,” I answered, unwavering. “I am a stone.”

He regarded me in silence, then nodded.

“It is not bad to be a stone, my lady.”

“Aye,” I said, a slow smile curving my lips. “We are stones.”

In solitude, beneath the hush of the dying day, I traced the carved names with my fingertips. Their edges were sharp, but not as sharp as memory. The Greek master worked in silence, but his presence hummed like an unspoken truth.

“Forgetfulness befalls men, but stones endure,” he said at last, his words carving themselves into the marrow of my bones.

“Is it an everlasting curse?” he pondered aloud.

“No,” I murmured, my gaze lost in the endless procession of time. “It is unyielding.”

He looked at me, perplexed.

“Perplexed?” I asked, tilting my head.

“Yes,” he admitted, his chisel pausing midair.

I exhaled, slow and deliberate.

“Aye,” I agreed, nodding toward the inscriptions, “but in our stone-like hearts, truth never dies.”

When the great heights fell—when the towers crumbled and the sky wept—every breath bore the weight of untold sagas. Each heartbeat echoed with the cadence of celestial hymns, yet my story lay untouched, though rephrased by the hands of divine destiny-makers.

Suspicion clung to me like a shroud. I felt the eyes of eager scribes upon me, their quills poised, their ink thirsting for scandal. They coveted my downfall, seeking to weave my ruin into their wretched displays.

But I stood, immovable.

A bastion against their voyeuristic hunger.

Never would they drink from the wellspring of my sorrow.

Never would they revel in the spectacle of my demise.

I swore, with the last embers of my soul, that I would deny them the satisfaction. I would endure, unyielding, until the final curtain fell.

“Nothing there.”

The wind answered with silence.

Midnight unfurled its obsidian cloak.

I sat in the dim hush, counting the spectral visitors of my past—ghosts of friends, whispers of kin, the weight of eternity pressing upon me.

“Almighty,” I murmured to the night, “what could men of that time be doing now?”

“Nothing, baby. Nothing, nothing.”

His voice drifted to me, an echo from the abyss.

“Nothing?” I repeated, a shiver slipping down my spine. “God forbid.”

“Nothing is the pinnacle of tragedy.”

“I do nothing, darling.”

“I know.”

And in that silence, I understood.

Nothing is the weight of a forgotten name.
Nothing is the absence of a heartbeat once remembered.
Nothing is the void where love once lived.

And we, the stones, bear witness.

---

In my time, you could find them gathered—whether by the dunghills, along the barren creeks, or within the tranquil courtyard of the mosque, where silence reigned like an unseen scribe etching fate upon the earth. They stood, cloaked in dark or khaki coats, their rifles slung across weary shoulders, their fingers dancing over the beads of long, winding prayers. Their eyes, fixed upon the mist-shrouded canopy of the cemetery, traced the towering silhouettes of ancient oaks, as if seeking communion with the dead.

Amid the tendrils of smoke curling in the evening’s breath, they spoke—not in hushed whispers, but in the bold cadence of men who wove history into speech. Tales spun from silk and dust, half-truths laced with poetry, voices rich with sorrow and bravado alike.

The ghost beside me, draped in sardonic elegance, exhaled a knowing chuckle.

“Deceit,” he murmured, “has a voice too sweet to resist.”

I nodded.

“Indeed.”

For even the most deceitful words carried within them the weight of a thousand buried truths, their essence woven into the very fabric of our minds.

A swelling wave of a renowned symphony washed over the boulevard, drowning me in the relentless embrace of dusk. Tears welled in my eyes as I listened—not just to the music, but to the solitary resonance of my own existence.

I was the lonely snowgum.

Rooted yet adrift, swaying yet unmoved, my voice lost in the distant melodies that rose from the brothels lining the night’s edges. Their songs, ghostly and honeyed, wrapped around me like a net of sighs.

“I am a lonely snowgum,” murmured a voice within me.

“Indeed,” I whispered back, baring my soul to the unflinching stars.

Beneath their cold illumination, I gazed upon the street below—a flood of faces, a mosaic of a thousand races, shifting like tides beneath the neon glow.

Yet within this riot of beauty, I harbored an unspeakable sorrow.

For though I stood amidst them, I was marred, unseen, tainted by an invisible stain.

Caught between the call of freedom and the weight of sin, I curled into myself, tracing the scar upon my chest with trembling fingers.

“I saw a man.”

The man I saw was my husband’s friend.

“Aye,” he murmured, unfolding a scrap of poetry before me.

I thought him a genius.

Once, we too had been poets—bards, writers, singing like nightingales.

But that time had passed.

My husband had loved him.
And he had loved me.

He had struggled, desperate and silent, for a love he dared not name.

And today, with a hoarse voice, he recited a poem.

But the words failed him.

They failed the beauty they sought to capture.

And yet, the bastard had crossed the Pacific for me.

---

Victoria the Great

(A Lament for the Fractured Crown)

Victoria the Great,
Goddess of a bygone empire,
Once seized Zeus’s scepter
And ensnared a soul sharper than Winston.
Sovereign of her chivalry,
Enthroned upon the magic of history,
She filled the vastness of her own legend.

---

"Her majesty is frozen in the narrow sky of the city," he once mused. I used to sit beneath the queen’s monument, that cold bastion of imperial memory, and whisper the same old question to the air.

What might happen to us?

Had I revealed my secrets? I wasn’t sure. But something in his gaze—something in the tremor of his breath—unsettled me. There was a weight in him I didn’t trust. A depth I recognized too well.

He scared the hell out of me.

For a fleeting moment, I thought the beast before me might be my own man, returned not in flesh but in fire and fury. I knew, even then, that the bastard had begun his poem the moment he set foot here—this city, this shrine, this wound.

“I dare to say,” he murmured, “let’s reserve a place for you in the Genocide Museum.”

“Are you insane?” I snapped, startled by the venom of his tongue.

“No,” he said flatly. “I’m serious.”

“Get the hell out of here, now, bastard!”

“I’ll go,” he replied, calm as iron. “I’ll never return.”

“Wait, wait—” I spat, fury overtaking grief. “How dare you say that?”

“I am crucified,” he whispered.

“So what? We all have been crucified.”

He looked at me then, not as a man looks at a woman, but as history regards a wound. “We crossed oceans,” he said. “Spaces. Skies.”

“Alone?”

“No,” he replied. “With Ely Banister Soane.”

I was tired. Bone-deep. Spirit-tired.

“I’m tired too,” he added, as if echoing my breath.

And then the storm came.

It roared through the city’s underbelly like a god unchained, tearing beneath a bruised blue sky, until the wind crushed the city’s wings—her chest, her lungs, the last of her strength.

“Crushed her chest,” he said.

“Flattened the walls of her heart.”

“Stop it,” I hissed, voice sharp with rage. “They were children.”

The wind slammed against the trees, the schools, the windows, the doors we never locked. It shrieked. It clawed. It tore apart my husband’s frame as if it remembered.

“Right, right,” he mumbled, drifting. “So what? Gone. With tears.”

“He is here,” he said suddenly, pressing a hand to his chest.

“Bastard,” I muttered.

“The city?”

“No,” he whispered. “Him.”

Then he spoke again, voice low and reverent, as if reciting a prayer passed down in blood.

“He was the home of a thousand virtues, allegories, poems, and epics—flowers of mountains, songs of mountains, our fragrant bower... yours, and mine, and my own sibling.”

With bitter remembrance, I rose. A giant in grief.

The tempest had raged, had screamed, had swallowed us whole. Smoke billowed from the heart of the town. The streets we knew shrank into splinters and embers.

And then—without warning, without farewell—he was gone.

Vanished into the ether, as if he had never been.

Goddamn.

I stood there, barely breathing, murmuring the only words I had left:

How dare you?

A passerby startled me. His voice broke the silence, casual and cryptic.

“Are you waiting for the Happy Prince, Your Majesty?”

It sounded like a jest, but there was something in his eyes—something deeper. A flicker of ruin. Of knowing. A wayward soul.A wanderer, like me.I regarded his figure with a bitter gaze, tracing the outline of his shadow as if it might speak. There was something broken in the way he carried himself—something nearly as flawed as my own reflection.

.

****

The season of a quiet  toll

Years had to pass before the weight of them settled on my skin like silent dust—inescapable, unyielding. Time showed no mercy, bringing me back here, to this street, to this face I had tried so hard to forget. George Street stretched before me like my wound, raw and open, aching with memories I couldn’t close. And there he was—my husband’s friend—walking leisurely, as if the years had been gentle with him. His gaze met mine, lingering too long, a familiarity that pulled at some invisible thread neither of us could sever. “Mother sent me binoculars and a new radio when I was a little guerrilla,” he said softly, voice thick with nostalgia, lips barely moving.His watching wasn’t new. A chill ran down my spine as I muttered, “Bastard, you were supposed to be gone.”

But he didn’t flinch. His eyes searched mine, as if seeking proof I was still alive, some remnant of the woman he once knew. Tears, unexpected and out of place, welled in his eyes. I lifted a cynical hand—a faint, almost indifferent wave. Yet even after he disappeared, his presence clung to me like a shadow I couldn’t shake. “Have you ever had an objective plan in your life?” he’d once asked. “No,” I’d replied. “I haven’t. I’ve never had one.” That was the truth. It was the hardest time for both of us—a period of restless immaturity where we hovered between knowing and not knowing, wanting and fearing. He lacked the courage to face me, and I, wild and merciless, was too much for him.

The moment he glimpsed my seriousness, he recoiled, shielding his face and fleeing through the crowd—a wounded ghost trying to escape the world of the living. I wanted to call his name, to hold on, but before I could speak, he was gone.Still, he never let me break him completely.He found refuge in forgotten streets and silent corners where poets go to die. His craft became his shield, his words the last barrier against a world that had stripped him bare. He had known prisons and battlefields alike and wore suffering like a second skin, his wounds medals he bore with quiet pride.And I, cruel and reckless, tried to tear him down with my words. Every savage insult, every venomous syllable aimed to hollow him out, reduce him to dust, make him weightless in my hands. But he remained—unyielding. Through it all, he saw me still, something pure and perfect in spite of myself. And that was the cruelest cruelty of all.

“I am a bitch,” I confessed to no one, the words heavy on my tongue, soaked in self-loathing. “A terrible woman. Mean and cruel.” I whispered it again, letting it sink in, letting it cut deep.The northern bay stretched before me, restless beneath the night’s breath. Lights danced on the waves like shattered stars. I stood rooted, hollowed, waiting for a revelation that never came.In the hazy reflection of the water, I saw her—my former self—tall, resolute, a storm I had created. “I won’t ever be...” The vow was unfinished, a silent promise to rise—not necessarily to redemption, but at least to understanding. In solitude, I sought the queen beneath whose feet I found the only stillness I’d known in years. She did not answer, but she did not turn away. Her stone gaze was comfort and anchor.

And as I looked up at her cold, grey face, I thought of his poem—words he left behind, words that refused to fade. When I heard them again, they felt strange and intimate—like whispers of a truth I’d long buried.“When I stare unto thee, further up to thy grey face, akin to me...” The rest was lost, but I knew what followed: “My bleeding wounds may torment thy conscience.”His words seemed like my discreet consciousness—quiet, secret, and painfully true.

                                                                      ****

Threshold of Resonance (Exile Cut) George Street choked on its own disquiet, the city a feverish beast writhing beneath me, dreaming in the clatter of heat and the stench of diesel. Its every exhalation was thick with the broken glow of neon and the dust of universal forgetting. Rain-gored bars bled light into puddles like shattered prophecies. I moved through them—a ghost among the living, untouched, unwitnessed. The world had ceased to offer reflections. I simply was. I wandered without aim, each step an obeisance to something older than will. My body navigated the grimy avenues not as my own, but as living inheritance—a memory unowned, carried in the bone. Whether I turned left into the gaudy glare, forward into deepening dusk, or backward into the gaping maw of ruin, it ceased to matter. My path was not chosen. It was inscribed beneath the blood, a silent scripture above speech. I was being summoned. My destination: St. Mary’s. The cathedral did not merely stand—it brooded. A monolithic verdict carved in stone, its gothic ribs torn open to a God long deafened by silence. Mist, thick and funereal, draped its spires like burial shrouds, obscuring the heavens it strained toward. The air, heavy and calcified, held the echoing thrum of prayers too ancient to be interpreted, too wounded to be heard. No absolution resided here. Only resonance—fossilized in every grain of mortar, glorified in the shattering silence that permeated its hollow chambers. Victoria awaited again—fixed, imperial, and terrifyingly blind. The bronze queen, sentinel of forgotten ages, presided over an expanse of palpable absence. Her crown was a cold mockery, forged from the ashes of vanished empires; her face, a mask etched with the sorrow of regret and the bitter triumph of conquest. I did not look at her. I looked through her, into the void where her spirit once was. And something deep within me—a phantom nerve—trembled, as if memory itself had flinched from an unutterable truth. She was not the statue. I was. The poem pulsed in my hand, a relic still warm from the crucible of grief. His last words—not ink, but scripture encrypted in ache. Each line a throb, like bone remembering its fracture, a nerve reliving its severing. And so, from somewhere deeper than lips, from the marrow of my being, I exhaled the question: “Who walks beside me?” Time buckled. The air folded inward, soaked in unspeakable meaning, becoming a medium of revelation. The voice that answered was not mine. Was not hers. It was not singular at all, but a chorus—a convergence of whispers and roars, ancient and immediate: “You do. We do. We are the answer unfolding.” We paused—not as thought, but as recursion. Echoes contemplating themselves. The universe, mirrored in a drop of dew. “Perhaps someday.” It was no longer a statement. It was a dimension, a place one could step into. A future forged from the ache of now. I envisioned confronting Mao then—the spectral archivist, the curator of human suffering, who catalogued trauma like fireproofed relics. “Fuck you, Mao,” I whispered, but the profanity felt hollow—a performance without heat, lacking the raw power of hatred. So I didn’t curse him. I deleted him. Not with fire, but with the obliterating indifference of irrelevance. He became static, a flicker of forgotten noise. A watermark on history’s failed draft. My existence no longer fit within his ledger; I no longer belonged to the biology he documented, nor to the suffering he codified. Time was no longer a thread. It was an ember, a loop of fire, consuming and renewing. And I—the match, the ash, the breath that stirred the flame. The poem inside me began to move, not across the page, but beneath the skin. A living force. No longer language. Mutation. There were no more sentences. Only wounds shaped like truths. I felt them ignite—not burn, but illuminate, forming an internal constellation. Coordinates written in scar tissue, legible only to grief, decipherable only in the language of irreversible loss. The wind read me. The city read me. And the stars, ancient and silent, read me in a tongue that predates light itself. I stood, spine humming like a taut wire, my mouth salted with the taste of centuries. And then I heard him—my husband, gone beyond time, beyond reach. His voice settled on the skin of the world like fog, soft and everywhere, whispering Dante: “To behold the other pole, and saw four stars Ne’er seen before save by the primal people.” I inhaled. The vastness of the moment filled my lungs. “But I can see them,” I said. Because I am one of them—the ones who left. The ones who crossed oceans not of water, but of silence. Emigrants of history. Refugees of meaning. I see the four stars not because I am holy—not because I am chosen—but because I am elsewhere. Because exile, with its brutal clarity, honed my vision. Because loss, relentless and merciless, polished my perception to a blade. The stars—fierce, untamed, primal—hung not as guides, but as witnesses. Neither kind nor cruel. Just there. Like truth. Like gravity. Like the inevitable conclusion of all things. And beneath their ancient, unwavering gaze, I understood. There is no redemption. There is no forgiveness. There is only resonance—the sacred, terrifying violence between what was and what will never, can never, be again. I was no longer seeking. I was no longer mourning. I was finally in tune. So I stepped forward—not to be remembered, not to be absolved. But to rupture. To... [Words are Missing ].

The End
  Autumn 2004

Read More

Apprentice

Kay Hassan

Part One

Scene One

 Interior of the  unaccomplished complex in  Rushcutters Bay in Sydney .  It is  of a day in the middle of  Autumn .The storm hits the city.  Normal life is on hold in the city. Driving through the  wild storm is a catastrophe -Radio says thousands of houses are without power

Cars are flattened under the falling trees - Roofs are ripped .Streets are flooded like the ancient rivers. Giant waves are hitting our shores - Buildings are shaking. Houses are washed away

A Vietnam veteran's died - Hunter river is the wildest. Thousands of volunteers are rushing into those suburbs to help people: they are real heroes. The huge cellar of the complex is quite compared with spaces between the buildings  but the sky above the roofs was furious by contrast.

Barbara :  Ich nenne Architektur gefrorene Musik. ( (Her blue glittering  eyes stare at me.  She is eighteen  tall and well built with a  beautiful  good-looking face  with expression  of superiority .She is not the only woman in the mega construction site but her presence is so dominating that we rarely feel the others' touches .   Her eyes remind  me of  the beautiful spark of God ; solemn and sublime. She has a  short blonde color- hair hardly touches her  reversible high visibility vest over her overall jeans . I am  a descendant of a illegitimate son of Saladin  ,not that tall , actually  has been  built on weaker and modest model,has dark eyes and grey hair and  dressed rough clothes. And  we are both wearing armored boots and hats.)

The main gate is flattened and the exit ramp is flooded.  Angelo. (A giant  athletic man)  is the Site Manager, he walks towards the gate  and stands watching the chaos. He puts his hands in his pocket  and wildly  yells  at the sky ." Fuck."

Barbara and I are watching him from the circular  lobby of  the building number five . She turns her eyes and stares stunningly  at the first building.

Barbara: Look.

I: What?He said fuck.

Barbara: I say, look.

I: I see Angelo.

Barbara:Look at the building. I say : Ich nenne Architektur gefrorene Musik.

I : Not in this  storm, sweety..

Barbara:  LOOK. (Screams she and nods to the first buildings facade in the rain.) It is frozen under the storm.

I:Perhaps , sometime.

Barbara: It is always, It is always. You are not perfect too.

I:Shredded...shredded.I know how the storm has changed your mood.

Barbara : What? Fuck  I am used to a worse weather.

I : I am not ridiculing your experience, but say that in the right time.

Barbara: When is the  right time coming?

I : When  I am  done.

Barbara : We  are talking about continuous concept.

I: Marvelous.

Barbara: What is marvelous?"

I:  Continuous concept."

Andreas :(He  comes closer with his bare chest. ) Why everyone thinks Barbara is smart? (Andreas is little and thin, speaks with Hispanic accent, and  is obsessed with tracing back his Spanish ancestors."    Barbara: Andreas. You  shut up.

I:  Right .You shut up  Andrew.

Andreas: I  say why?.

I: Because she is from Goethe's country, (Eventually Andreas  leaves.)

Barbara:  You fucking old man,.

I: What makes you so angry, little goddess?

Barbara:You!

I: ME? What are you looking at ?

 Barbara:I am looking at your wild look.

I:What is wrong with my wild look?

Barbara:How could  you dismiss Dmitri so cruelly ?

I: Dismiss? No ...no. I have no authority to do that.

Barbara: Tell me the truth.

I:  He just  was not great yesterday..

Barbara: Honestly , what happened?

I: He dismantled the scaffold before even I ran the cables for the surveillance cameras?

Barbara: I guess. Probably  someone told him to.Imagine  what would happen in this storm  if he did not.

I: Nothing.

Barbara: Who knows?

 However, it is better to say.'It is not the end of the world.'

I: Right, he only needed to ask someone.

Barbara: Definitely, Angelo knows, doesn't he?

I: No.he doesn't know.

Barbara:This building is ugly, compared with the first one.

I: Don't challenge me. There is no difference.

Barbara:I can  feel its music.

I:There is no difference.

Barbara: Perhaps for you.  I have better eyes.

I: Look. It is a complex of a billion Dollar budget, they won't make such  a big mistake.

Barbara: There is no WOW.Don't escape my question.

I:  Look BB, I promised  Sam, but he fucked my plan .

 Barbara: Fuck Sam. Instead of getting supplied with materials for north side windows, he yells at me for not having worked on the  west side windows.

I: You may fuck him, but I can't .

Barbara: I dare to fuck him now.

I: He is a good guy. He is Jewish.

Barbara:    I am Jewish  too.

I :I know.

Barbara: And a very far relative to Karl Marx , you know him, do not  you?

I: Good Heaven! That is impossible- Frau M.

Barbara:I’m either way German.

I: Terrific, I am shocked.

Barbara:Am I telling a lot about myself.

I:I am honored, tell me  what ever you like.

  Barbara: Oh, dear. Old man, you are adorable. You can't do bad things.

I: What? I am evil too.

Barbara:NO, no. There is  only Dmitri. Dmitri.(The wind does not  let up .)

 I: ( With indifferent response.)  Fuck, what?

 Barbara:  I say Dmitri.

I:  Dmitri! what is good about Dmitri.

 Barbara:Look. We have to make a deal.

I: He does not let us deal with him. Actually he pissed me off.

Barbara:You are friends.

I:We were sort of.

Barbara:Fuck. Listen ,I feel responsibility  for what happened to Dmitri's  family.

I: What ?  Are you crazy. You are from Treves in Germany  and he is from Astrakhan on Caspian sea.

Barbara:That is the point."

I: Bullshit.

Barbara:Well. Listen to his story.

I: What story?

Barbara:The one I know.

I:  What else.

Barbara:I am a woman, have a feeling .

I : I see.

Barbara:Fuck, don't go too far.

I: I Won't.  I know he does not speak to me anyway, at least today.

Barbara: Do not be silly.Easter is coming. We will be having  a huge party.

I: Right. But I am not coming.

Barbara: No, you are coming.

I: No, I am not  coming.

Barbara: I say, yes, you are coming. I have an announcement.

I: Personal announcement?”

Barbara: Absolutely.

I: Lets talk to Angelo.(I walk out through the glass door  of the circular lobby.)

Barbara:(Grudgingly.) Hmm( She  follows  me.)

(The Curtain Falls)

................................................................................

Scene Two

We are standing behind Angelo. (He is a giant cheerful and friendly athletic man. He is thirty five .His face is blond and well-formed, good-looking. There is strength and stubbornness in his expression but sometimes looks  unsettled, untamed. He thinks if he could buy a  thousand heads of goats for his father's deserted  farm in Greece, he would live like a king )

I: Here is Angelo. ( I yell.)

Barbara:Fuck Angelo. (Whispers she. Then she speaks loudly.) See you..

I: Stay with me, little  goddess.

Angelo: Barbara, wait.

Barbara: What?

Angelo: What is happening ?.

Barbara: Nothing.What  do you mean.

Angelo: Go and check the list of your materials; they have just arrived. Stop whingeing.

Barbara: Thanks. I will. Don't be harsh on Dmitri.

Angelo : Seriously, what happened?

I: Nothing, nothing.

Angelo: Look... I did not tell him to dismantle the scaffold. I swear.

I:I know  Dmitri did it by his own.

Angelo: Yes. Don't worry...just  leave it for me.No one can work in this fucking weather.

Sam:( Sam passes, He has an elegant oval visage. He is twenty-five, tall and gaunt,trying his best to keep Angelo impressed by his engineering talent and management skill   but marred by his rather gross ambition and determination . He is dressed in his smart blue jacket and jeans .)

I: Is Sam angry?"

Angelo: Not as much as the storm is.

I: Thanks. What is going on , on your side?"

Angelo: Oh , yeh, fuck. I forget.This storm is not natural.

I: Fuck, shit. What are you talking about?

 Angelo: I say it is not natural.(He halted and snapped.)  Fuck, I forgot! Do you know Romeo?

I:  Not really.

Angelo: Me either. ( He laughs) He said. 'An extreme  phenomenon of the sort is  artificial. '

I: What ? You don't know him!

Angelo: You know I him his boss.

I: I see.

Angelo:  It is very important to see him.

I: Why?

Angelo: It is about  the theory.

I: What theory, and why should we see him?

Angelo:  'Cause he is almost Illuminati. He says natural disasters no more have God's signature.

I: What?( I say and laugh surprisingly .)You just said I don't know him.

Angelo: I am serious, and I will introduce you to him .

I: But,why are you so nervous today?

Angelo:I don't know, the storm affects my nerve!  Oh, yeh...right.  Motherfucker pissed me off.

I: Who  ?The storm?

Angelo:No.  Darko!

I: DARKO? Fuck.  He is just a kid.

Angelo: But, he pissed me off.

Angelo: Hi, Sam.(Sam passes by us again.)

Sam: Angelo. Where is the work progress report.( He does not stop.)

Angelo: It is ready.

Angelo: Fuck. Look how this  kid  governs us.

I: His money does.

Angelo: Right, his father's money.

I : Ignore him now.  What did Darko say? He did not kill you, did he?

Angelo: He said you are exaggerating about history."

I: That is not a big deal.

Angelo: No, it is. For me it is."

I: Why?

Angelo: Because I am Greek, and you know how things work for me.

I: Right. But, what does he have to say about it ?

Angelo : Nothing. he just  challenged me.

I: Don't take it personal.

Angelo: I won't, but I need to have another go  with you, particularly through this fucking theory.

I: I like the those fucking  old hypocrites!

Angelo: No, no. I am serious.

I: Any time. I am ready.

Angelo: It was about Macedonia.

I: OH MY GOD.STOP IT. Darko is a Mongolian kid.

Angelo: Don't ridicule my cause.

I: Sorry,  I won't. I won't. Look at his yellow face; he is a Mongolian kid.

Angelo: Anyway.  I am taking  you to meet Romeo.

I: Seriously, who is Romeo?

Angelo: Doubtless, you  have seen him. He is the man with the shortest pant in this premises.

I:(Remembering him.)  OH. Holy Mother O' God.

Angelo: (He laughs very loudly.)He is fine , don't worry about his pant.

 The curtain Falls

Part Two

            

Scene One

Log  M Restaurant  in Kings Cross.We sit on a long row of olive couches facing our workmates  occupying a row of brown  chairs,behind  tables of the same color which  are lightened by cubic light bulbs planted  on them.

Barbara: Dmitri.  Dmitri is  drunk?.Who pays for all his shit ?

Angelo: He  won't pay, you know why, Barbara?

Barbara:No I don't.

Andreas: Sam does.

Sam: (Proudly.) Drink as much as you can.

Barbara: Dmitri stop  drinking ?

I :Drink Andreas.

Andreas: I do.”

Angelo: Stop spending your money on chicks.(Ha Ha Ha.)

Andreas: What else  have I to do? Oh, Gabriela Mi Amore.

I:  Spoil yourself, Dmitri.

Barbara: Oh, wise man, do not  corrupt the youth.

I:  He does not listen to my advise anyway.

I:  Josh, check  if Sam is  paying?You can't trust everyone these days..

Joshua:(Screams)  Mate (  He claims he is a descendant  of  Anne Boleyn's sister  .  He is twenty-seven , tall and strong .  He is  defiant, has two  blow piercing  eyes, and  has  brown hair." You are in an honest hand.

Barbara: (Smiling .) You are too, a hypocrite kid, baby.

Joshua: Fuck, I try to help.

I: That is what Hypocrite does; you are perfect.

Barbara: Josh, please.

 Joshua: What?

Barbara: Let me go.

Joshua:(With shocked eyes.) Going where?

Barbara: Let me have a go.  My announcement.My announcement.

I: Oh, yes. What are you waiting for?"

 Barbara: Well listen. (Everyone was frozen, and thinking, what kind of surprise that freak'n girl has prepared for them.)I am leaving the country very  soon.

-WHAT?-  (We shout with a loud screech)  WOW. (Everyone cheers except Joshua.)

 I: (Blowing- shocked.) Barbara, are  you serious? ( Tried then to take it easily.)

(Everyone screams again-) WOW-

I: We miss you , indeed.

(Chorus like everyone says) We miss you, indeed. (And kisses  her, and hugs  her for a long while.)

Barbara: (She sheds glittering tears.) I am overwhelmed.

“Miss you miss you miss you.”

I: Going back to school.

Barbara: Home, school. What about you Dmitri?

Dmitri: (Doesn't reply.)

I : He needs money.

Joshua: Fair enough. I understand.(Says angrily.)

Barbara: (Seriously.) No you don't.

Dmitri: (Gasps angrily .)

I: Shut up Josh.

I: Calm down, Dmitri, talk about your feeling.

Barbara: Should he, Old man? I think he is scared.

I: It is better if he  needs  to.

Joshua: We are friends no matter what . Here or there.

Barbara:(Ignoring Joshua's comment.)  I think , Dmitri  needs to talk.

Joshua: (Submissively.) Then say something, Dmitri

Dmitri: It is hard to talk. If talked I have to say.' I won't let my smart sister become a prostitute.(Silently looking at me. I can't encourage him, or support him.)

Barbara: Dmitri, Dmitri.

Dmitri: She is studying in Moscow.They say the fucking  tourists are paying well and I am so scared that I sent all my money to her, and consequently begged my father to lend me money  to help my mother in the hospital before she  died.'

Angelo and Joshua: (Screaming together.) Fuck.

Dmitri: I told him: Think about your daughter:  you used to preach  how rich men  might seduce  poor women .He said : Look , I am sorry, I was so wrong.

 Barbara " ( Cries midst our shocked eyes..) Dmitri I am sorry.

Angelo and I: What?

Barbara: I hope I could change the history.

Joshua: ( He looks at us) Bullshit, why does not he help his wife.

I:  The  bastard  had divorced her .

Andreas : Is he poor?

Dmitri: NO.No.

 Joshua: Is he  a business man? Like Sam's father.

Dmitri: NO.(He stopped talking.)

Barbara:  Dmitri speak.

Dmitri: If you are keen to listen then  let me talk; they are twelve thousand mile away from here .

Sam: We are all yours.

Dmitri: Thank you...lucky me.

Joshua: Then what are you waiting for?

Dmitri: Right... listen, all of you. In the start of the last century  my grand grandfather had built a small old style  knitting factory.”

Joshua : Where?

Dmitri: In  my city.

Dmitri: Where else...fuck?

Joshua:  Am I bad?

I :Yes you are.

Dmitri:(He yells)  Let me finish.

Joshua : Fine ...fine. You drink well.

Dmitri:  The little factory was taken by the  Bolsheviks and  transformed it to a modern factory producing fabric and mink fur.

Sam: They took it just like that?

Dmitri: Yes, Just like that.Do you you care?

Sam: Yes I do...otherwise I would not listen to you.

Dmitri: Thank you .LISTEN .

Dmitri: They  let him working in a farm out side the city for twenty two  years, however, when his son, my grandfather was wounded in the war world two they let him come back and work in the factory but he died very soon.

(We scream )Wow.

Dmitri: And later when my grandfather died my father had already became a dependable technician in the factory, and ironically  his rank in the party  was higher than his Manager's.

Barbara : What do you mean?

Dmitri :(Angrily) Ask your grandfather. It takes me ages to explain this point.

Joshua : Pass, anyway.

I:Dmitri ,Dmitri.  I understand very well.

Dmitri:  Love you old man.

Dmitri: He found accidentally  that his grandfather was related to Vladimir Ilych Lenin's father. I mean they  were ethnically from Chuvash people.

I : (I yelled) Fuck.  You are talking gibberish.

 Dmitri: Look , that was a great honor at that time.Actually he became the lord of the factory with the magical  power of the deceased man .

Sam: Was he rich?

Dmitri: Rich, poor were meaningless words at that time.But,  his giant step, after  Perestroika (перестро́йка) was to  record the factory in his name.

Sam: What?”

Dmitri: I am telling the truth.

Sam: We know...we know.

Dmitri: I am not worried about his era.

Joshua: What is your concern then?

Dmitri: The bastard divorced my mother very soon and kicked us out - and  married his young secretary.I helped my mother and struggled until  finished my study. Then started working for him in the factory until recently I got this work visa to here for one year.

Sam:  So you own a big factory.

Dmitri: Fuck. NO,  yelled Dmitri.

 Sam: I mean when he dies.

 Dmitri: Right, but he has got four boys from his new wife.

Sam: Sorry. Let me  take care of the  bills of those  who are leaving early.

I: (Cynically.) )We can pay.

Sam: No you can't, good man, I am paying for two hundred persons.

Barbara:  (Screams.) I told you, I told you, Old wise man.

Angelo: (Interferes, and yells, as he nods to me .)  Prepare to meet Romeo.

I: Is it a right time? (I mean it is not proper place to talk our private topic.)

Angelo: For God's sake, ignore  etiquette

I: ( I am urged.) Catch up latter, BB.

Barbara: Think better.Remember; no drama, no myth.

I: I will. I promise.

Angelo: Lets lose our innocence.

I: Ready. I am ready.(Following Angelo.)

Angelo: Here is Romeo.(He is  siting on the table number 12)  By the way, I think she is obsessed with Dmitri's crisis.

I: What? Who. (I was, certain he meant Barbara.)

Angelo: Never mind.

(We walk towards Romeo. His friends have already left.)

The curtain falls.

Scene Two

Angelo: Good evening  , Romeo..

Romeo:(A man of middle height neither dark nor blond; in other words he was a man with a typical Italian mild face)  Good evening  Angelo. You know him.(Angelo nods to me.)

Romeo: Oh, yeh. Hi.

I: Hi.

Angelo: Have not you drunk yet, Romeo ?

Romeo: No.No I've not. Actually, I have been thinking about Darko. He told me you  are like  twins.

Angelo: Really? Oh, yes. But , never listen to him . He is an idiot.

Romeo:  Let me confess, Angelo. From my perspective,  it is not fair to leave your friend think that he is a descendant of Sumer.

I: Good  heaven , he is talking about me, is not he?

Romeo: I am sorry I won't  say anything else about my point of view, at least now.Don't be ashamed. I, personally,  am a descendant of  Hugues de Payen, the founder  of the Templars: I mean the Order of Solomon's Temple, and I have all our  churches' evidences and documents of my blood line  .

Angelo: Wow.You are a blessed man.

Romeo: I tell you this ,because we are part of this miss.

I: Marvelous start.

Angelo: (Giving a nasty look.)We are willing to hear.We are, in fact, voluntarily some  sort of researchers.

Romeo : Angelo. it  is not about you, personally.

Angelo: (Uncertainly.)   I am  in, either way.

Romeo: Only If you both  accepted my points of view.

Angelo: What are they?

Romeo: (Proudly.)  IN THIS WORLD WE ARE APPRENTICES FOREVER.(He brushes his  long brown   hair.)  And we have to  raise  questions contentiously .

Angelo: (Looks confused.)

I: We are apprentices. otherwise we are dead.

Angelo: That is better for me.(Excitedly screams.)

Romeo : Hopefully, we are close.

Angelo: I am certain we are  on the same page, Romeo.

Romeo: Look, man.(He looks at me carefully.) the people of Sumer had left this SHIT PLANET  four thousand years ago.

I:  ( Listening to the silence and gasps in shock) What?

Angelo: What do mean? (Screams Angelo.) Where is your proof?

Romeo: You are not patient adequately .

I: Romeo.   For such a serious Hypothesis,  you need to discuss  Strong  Evidences  , don't you?

Romeo: Certainly, I do. In fact we have already passed that stage.

I: (Cynically ) COOL.

Romeo: Listen.THIS IS CRUCIAL

Angelo: (To me.) No shit.

Romeo: Evidences; listen  and prepare to the surprise.

Angelo: Good heaven.

 Romeo: Ready?(Tying to predict  our responses.) Good. Listen.We say .'Noah's Ark is absolutely not Noah's Ark".

Angelo: (He yells) Fuck. Sorry. Good Heaven. We both believe it is.

Romeo: It is a bullshit, with all due respect .

Angelo: (Laughs sardonically.) Then what is it?

Angelo: ( Silently, watches Barbara for no real reason.) I sear to God  Barbara wishes  to join us.

I:(Enthusiastically.)   Can I invite her to join us?(Pauses and gasps. ) She is interested in men's  issues .

Romeo: Barbara? NO.NO. She is not my type, man. She is  just  a little girl.

I: She is eighteen.

Romeo:( She is eighteen! It doesn't work like that, mate.  She relates pure politics directly with the THEORY, such as the Russian Revolution.

Angelo: Look, Romeo. This old man is my theory maker  and BB is my practical hands; she is young and full of blood.

Romeo: Listen .Angelo, Angelo , you are a bit noisy. I said.' No.'

Angelo: Fine, fine.We are all yours. I know this fucking theory takes a lot.

Romeo: Look Angelo I know you are honest about all these stuff, but you need some basics.

Angelo: (He yells.) Romeo.  We are on the same page.I have read all your magistrates' highlights.

Romeo: That is fine. But  to understand THE THEORY is a long way,and  not something that  can be taught by some fucking  UNI's Profs. or teachers or law makers.

Angelo: Don't miss this opportunity.This old man  will be shocking  you, everyday in a different way.

Romeo:  I won't suspect anyone's talent, just I hope you are in the right place.

Angelo: Definitely  we are.

Romeo: So... when you ready say, YES?

Angelo:  YES, YES,

Romeo: I'll not  review the classical Theory if it suits both of you.

I: Go ahead.

Romeo: Eventually, I ask, can you remember what have I  said about  Sumer?

Angelo: Have not you said.' They had left  the planet? Right.But, how? Where are the your  evidences ? I have no clue."

I:  There is none.

Romeo: HOW ABOUT NOAH'S ARK.

Angelo:  NOAH'S ARK? You said it is not Noah's Ark.

Romeo: YES. The ARK  is not Noah's. It is in fact  a Sumerian space ship. ships, or fleets. They took off and left the planet. (He speaks frankly and confidently.)

 Romeo: Ironically Tanach or in general  ' Bible' writers  made it a main issue for  Abrahamic faiths.

Angelo:( He laughs and screams randomly.)

Romeo: You breach the commitment.

Angelo: Sorry I don't  mean to. I am just excited.

I : I like you, Romeo.We are not in hurry.however, we prefer to derive some evidences; empirical evidences.

Romeo: I have my evidences, more than you expect, if you are interested  take these  CDs.  (He produces  from his bag a couple of discs and relays them to me.) Take your copy,Angelo

I: Thank you.  I believe we need a theory to justify how the precedent events work  in full swing with  the new world  order.

Romeo: Impressive. Impressive.

Angelo: I told you,Romeo.He is damn good.

Romeo: Seeking  approval is very complicated process , and any one's authenticity must be passed through the magistrates' watching eyes.

I:Any other evidences?

Romeo: Definitely. (He snaps victoriously.) Ezekiel's Vision of God.

I: Good one.

Angelo: (Yells in fear.) Enlighten me.

I: Do not panic, man.Just write down  in your diary. 'Read Book of  Ezekiel.'

Romeo : I don't stop at this point forever. Listen, these examples are for apprentices.

Angelo :(Grinning.)  Then let us be your Apprentice, master.

Romeo :  ( Grudgingly.)It depends on the  level  of your expectations.

Barbara:( Interrupting.  ) I couldn't resist my greed.

Romeo : (Grudgingly) I hope it suits both of you, guys.( And after a  short pause, he explodes .) But , it does not suit  me.

Angelo: ( Yells in shock. ) Romeo!

I: (Speechless, waiting for a breakthrough)

Romeo:(Decisively,  leaves.) By the way , we have not said anything. Right ? Have a good night.

Barbara: Fuck, what was that?

Romeo: (No response.)

Angelo: My apology.

Barbara: It is  not about you , Ange.

I: Probably, he  was not ready to show his hands.I mean to disclose his secrets.

Barbara: For God sake , don't look for excuses, in behalf of him. He is just an idiot. By the way.(She looks at me furiously.) You  are a bad hypocrite.

I: Thank you . I did not know that, but he was tense with the excitements.Actually the man can't cope with strangers, easily.

Barbara: Fuck. I am leaving . I am sure that is what you want both.

I: You are absolutely wrong. 

Barbara: (She leaves without a single word.)

Angelo: At least say, good night , BB. Lets end our night, good man.

I: Good night, Angelo.

(We leave grudgingly.)

The curtain falls

Scene Three

Four day later. On the roof of the building number one.

Angelo was cranky and screaming randomly at Kamal.

Angelo: Never happened. Never happened.

Kamal: Angelo, make it clearer.( (Kamal  is stunned. His face is  dark and calm ; it is  a blend  of the Indian descendant and oceanic blood . He is twenty-seven , tall and strong. His carriage reminds one of the men who suddenly  pop up  from the depth and obscurity of the oceans.)

Angelo: It is clear. Only,  get the job done, we won't stay here forever.

Kamal:  (He looks at me.) Am I the only one here?

Angelo: Fuck, man, I know what I am talking about.

I: Angelo.

Angelo: I am not taking orders from anyone.

I: (Nervously I try to leave the roof.)

Angelo: (He is angry.) I do not say leave.

I: (Cynically ) Bad choice.

Angelo: Dmitri will be helping you, Kamal. 

Kamal: ( He doesn't respond  .)

I:( I am close to the door, and ready to leave the  roof.) Angelo, you are wasting  my time.

Angelo: (Frowning and grabbing my arm  .)  I am happy with that, old man.

(We  are now  standing close to the door. )

I:By the way.  Romeo was rude with BB.

Angelo: (Confusedly )Right. But,guess what?

I: What?

Angelo: According  to Sam,   Romeo  is not coming anymore.He has quit.

I : Are you serious?

Angelo:YES. And that is why I am cranky these days.

I: (Bragging ) At least I can say now. 'He is not free.'

Angelo:  You reckon?By the way, have you watched his CD?

I: yes.

Angelo: What was it about?

I: It is a long story.It starts with some recent catastrophes and many unsolved historical mysteries.

Angelo: Marvelous  ( And he leaves the roof.)

 I: (I follow him meekly.)

The Curtain falls.

Scene  Four

Next day.  I am testing  carbon monoxide sensors in the lower cellar . Angelo and Barbara are rushing down the ramp. Barbara's eyes  boldly  glare with hard, defiant looks.

Barbara: Hey. (  She  looks with a queer smile  .) Stop, fuck , listen.You know nothing.

Angelo: (Laughing aloud.) 

I:  (No longer doubting myself.)Let me  guess... I guess.

Angelo:    No, No. (Irresponsibly .)

Barbara:  Angelo.(Seriously.) It is not funny.

Angelo: BB, stop.

Barbara: Who told you to call me BB?

Angelo: Your friend.

Barbara: (Looks at me with eyes full of  fire.)

I:  What are you  waiting for?

Angelo: (Quietly)  It is about Romeo.

I: What is wrong about him?

Angelo: ( Angrily.) Sam has lied about Romeo.

Barbara: (Defiantly.)No, he has n't. He does not know the details.(She struggles to find her words.)Actually Police questioned him about the last  moments you spent with him. .

Angelo: Oh, God.  What do you call it then?

I: Damn ye. You can't beat those magistrates.

Angelo: Romeo? Man, he is missing.

I:(Terrified. and seriously looking at him  )

Angelo: ( Restlessly , waiting for my verbal  response.)

I: Are you  serious?

Angelo: Definitely, yes.

 I: It is a great disaster,indeed.

Angelo:What ?( Screams to  deny our involvement.)  I don't understand what do you mean.

I: We are the last ones who met him and are  the strangest combination of men and women here.

Angelo: (He is stunned.) No one listens to such bullshits..

Barbara: You both are crazy.I heard the news first,and  there is nothing to fear of.

Angelo: BB, I am not expecting from you more than that.

Barbara:(Angrily.) Fuck. Don't call me BB.What did I said?

Angelo:Fine , Barbara.

I: There is a man MISSING.

Angelo: Is there a way to help him.

I: I am thinking .

Joshua: (Breathlessly  rushing down the ramp, looking for  Barbara.)

Barbara: Josh!

Joshua: Police is here, they mentioned your name.

Barbara: My name (She looks shocked .)He was not even  nice to me?

I: Look! Don't talk too much. The worse case scenario is .

Angelo :(Interrupting me.) Don't scare her.

I: I won't.BB, tell  them exactly  what happened, briefly.

Angelo:Then,  they  interrogate us.

I: Definitely they will.

Angelo: Fuck. I remember nothing.I was drunk.

I : Right, but it is abut our physical presence  there WITH HIM.

Angelo:  I am sure there was no tension between us.Definitely we were watched through their fucking  cctv eyes.

I: We are lucky.

Angelo: We did not talk, did we?

I: Good heaven,  we did.

Angelo: Fuck.

I: Angelo, look , we have no problem with police.

Angelo: You  reckon?

I: I am certain. But.

Angelo: What do mean by your 'But'?

I:  I am scared of a third party.

Angelo:Fuck, I am not ready for that.

Barbara: (She has n't recovered from her shock.) Angelo I am going to meet them.

Joshua: They have n't called you yet..

Angelo: Right. It is better to do your job.Josh take care of her.

I: Barbara, we won't let you down.

Barbara: Thanks. You know where to find me.(She leaves with Joshua.)

Angelo: What the hell are you talking about?

I: (Silently looking at him.)

Angelo:Fucking third what?

I: Third Party. Man, listen, if Romeo was not a delusional, someone has an interest in his disappearance.

Angelo: Wait, wait wait.You mean it, you mean it, fuck. (He screams) UNDERSTOOD

I:  Then, explain it please.

Angelo: You mean, , he has been punished for disclosing their secrets.

I: Exactly.So.(I push to calm him down.)We wait.

Angelo: We wait.(He walks away with a loud laughter.)

I: ( I stay alone thinking and working silently.)

The curtain falls

Scene Five

 Three police officers are  interviewing Barbara in the Sam's office.

Matt: Barbara.( A middle aged man with  florid complexion and  two prominent plump cheeks and cold eyes. He introduces himself and his companions to Barbara. ) We ask you only one question. Please answer us precisely.

Barbara: (Responds listlessly." Yes, sir." 

 Matt: (He consults the other two officers for a very short time.) It is a stress free conversation.

Barbara :(Interrupting him.)  I am ready, sir.

Matt: First of all, prior to the moment you interrupted them, you have nothing to worry about.

My colleague.(He nods to his companion on his right hand side , and reassure his name.)  Officer Albert, will  officially asks you his  question please kindly make your answer as briefly as you can.

Barbara:  Yes, sir.

Albert: (  ) Obviously, you are aware what  all this is about,  and for the momentum of the case , there are three officers dedicated to the investigation

Barbara: Yes, sir.

Albert: (He gestures to the female officer.) Officer Flora, are you recording?

Flora: Yes, I definitely, am

Albert: Then,Barbara, listen carefully: When you approached your friends  Romeo gave them a big frown of disapproving  and left the table  immediately.(He cleaned his throat, snoring, strangely.) The crucial question is: what happened henceforth ? 

Barbara:(Hesitantly, she  stammers , but gradually regains her confidence.) As, as,  as an excuse for  my intrusion. ( She stops for a while.) I said. I said. 'I couldn't resist my greed.' In his response grudgingly, Romeo told his companions. 'I hope it suits you, guys.  But it does not suit me.' Then he left  immediately.

Matt: Correct !

Barbara: (She is stunned. She yells.) Correct? Exactly . What do mean?

I have nothing else to say, sir.You knew it...you knew it.

Matt: Barbara, we know ...we know. Thank you for your help. Let me say.'You can go .'

Barbara:(Dazzled. But, hailed.) Really ? Anyway, thank you.

Matt: You're welcome.

Barbara: (Overwhelmingly , walking  out alone. But suddenly  hears a shout.)

Matt: Barbara. We won't interview your friends.

Barbara: (Cynically, shouted out side the office.) I know.

The three police officers look at each other without saying  a single word.

The curtain  falls.

Scene six

The cellar. I am testing the equipment.

Barbara: (She is coming out from the lift's cabinet , and shouts. ) I'm done.I: ( I am surprised.) BB, what happened.

Barbara: They interviewed me.It was  about a crime, isn't it?

I: (Nervously.) No shit. You ask me?

Barbara:( She is shrinking in side her skin.)  I am scared.

I: ( Silently showing my respect to her feeling.)

Barbara: They verbally  displayed the scene and focused on the last moments when I came close to your table and said. 'I couldn't resist my greed.'

I: (With encouraging mood,) Excellent.

Barbara: (Strangely shouting.) He's gone. Romeo's gone.

I: ( Uncertain what to say.) Take it easy, baby.

Barbara: ( Shouts Loudly.) Fuck, I am worried about you.

I: What?

Barbara: Listen, one of the officers  said. 'We won't interview your friends.'

Why did he say that?Think with me.

I: ( In shock.) It is a big blow.( Thinking massively.) Wait a minute ...wait a minute.

Probably,they take advantages of your  mistakes .

Barbara: I haven't done any.

I: Listen , we have to warn Angelo immediately.

Barbara: I am the one who supposed to do that.

I:(Seriously.) Then,  what are you waiting for?Besides, let me think  without disturbances. 

Barbara: (She leave silently , but shouts before she disappear .)Coming back.

I: ( Staying in my place and thinking loudly.) Romeo!What were you hiding ?( Trying my best to focus on my job.)Someone has to find out, but we are just a bunch of stray boys.

Angelo: ( He appears suddenly.)

I: Any news?

Angelo :( Laughing loudly.) The whole story is just  bullshit.They have  left  without  asking us a sing question.

 I: Right, but the investigation is going on.Besides.(Angelo makes noises.) Listen, there is a man missing right now, and we are definitely involved in the police's point of view, and in those unknown agents'.

Angelo: Stop, stop.

I: Fuck.  Magistrate!  Magistrate.(Shrieking.) Angelo

Angelo: And specifically.' The magistrates' watching eyes.'  But what the fuck are you on about?

I: It means Romeo ,somehow,  relates to those unknown devils.

Angelo: Go ahead.

I: (With sardonic look.)Go ahead?

  Do you know how long it took me to say that?

Angelo: I have no idea, just tell me what to do.

I: Thank you, Ange. I am taking  Dmitri to  Log  M Restaurant. He knows one of the  waitress there. We have to watch the whole scene with our own eyes

Angelo: What for?

I: To catch the thread of the crime.

Angelo: Crime?

I:(Exaggerating.) Corpse atop corpse

Angelo:How can I help?

I: Keep Sam under control.

 

Angelo: I can't promise,  Motherfucker is volunteering-ly  trying to remind  the police as if the crime happened here.

I: Then do nothing.

Angelo: I'll  cover for you and Dmitri , anyway.(He steps away to leave. He changes his mind soon.) Let me call Dmitri.(He talks on his mobile phone)Dmitri , Dmitri.

I: My appreciation.

Angelo: Dmitri is coming...this is your idea not mine. 

 I: Right.

Angelo: He says the storm has erupted.

I: Can't hear anything.

Angelo: I know...I know ... Let me have a look. Probably, it calls for another victim. 

I: Is it  a natural storm ?

Angelo: Fuck, how do I know?

I: Well, you know him better than me.

Angelo: Don't mention his name.

I:Fine.No one is here.( I am silenced.)

Angelo: Who knows?Were not we alone?

I:  Right.(Disappointed.)

(We are silently waiting for Dmitri.)  

The curtain falls.

  ****

Part Three

Scene One

Dmitri: ( Suddenly, appears with his tallness and the Russian's touch.)Angelo, here I am .

Angelo: Thank you for  your coming. Dmitri, listen.  On contrary  to  your  expectation, I am asking you to do me a favor.(He looks at me hesitantly.) It is serious.

Dmitri: What is it?

Angelo: Do you know any one in the Log  M Restaurant ?

Dmitri: (He is excited.)  Why ? In fact yes I do.

Angelo: Marvelous. Man,  we need your help for a risky mission.

Dmitri: Me.

I: Angelo, it is not a mission. 

Angelo: What is it then?

I : Look Dmitri. You know Romeo has recently disappeared.

Dmitri:Yes I do.

I: You remember the event in the  restaurant  .

Dmitri: Yes I do.

I: Your girlfriend is working in the  place.

Dmitri: I have no girlfriend.

Angelo: Fuck , don't deny it... you are our only hope.

Dmitri: What are you talking about?

I: Listen  , Dmitri. The truth is we need to know what happened to Romeo.

Dmitri: I don't know how to help.

I: Right. Your friend can help.

Dmitri: Show me how.

Angelo: Just introduce us to her.

Dmitri : What?  I can't .I won't. Don't push me.

I: No one pushes you.

Dmitri: No, he does.

I: Well, what about another night?

Dmitri: I won't ask her for anything.

I: You don't need to.We will create a situation.

Dmitri: I won't let you use her.

Angelo: (Angrily)  Dmitri,  just leave.Forget it, we were wrong.

Dmitri: (Defiantly.) Fine, I will be living , but I am worried for not being understood.

I:Wait  a second, wait a second.(Gesture to  Angelo.) You  shut up.Dmitri, you said. ' I am worried for not being understood.' What do you mean,?

Dmitri: Look, I don't mind to help, but not the way you suggested.

I: Well,if you are serious please enlighten us.

Dmitri: Let us work it out without involving  the poor girl in our mess.   

Angelo: (Yells) How?

Dmitri : Specifically , tell me what do you need?

(It is a great blow.Dmitri shows more signs of enthusiasm .)

I: Everything happened at the   night of the event  during  the period between five o'clock to ten o'clock.

Dmitri: (Thinking and  raking  his hair with his long fingers.)  Done! But don't ask me questions.

I: Deal. Man, It's for Romeo.

Dmitri: For Romeo. 

Angelo: But, how does it work?

Dmitri: I said don't ask  me questions.

Angelo: In this case, it is better to restructure the question.(He gestures to me.) What are we supposed to to do?

I: ( Trying to shut him out  before Dmitri interrupts him.)

Dmitri: Nothing. Nothing. Just wait for me.

(Dmitri leaves.)

Angelo: Should we trust him?

I: We have  no choice.

Angelo: The time is up.(He laughs  loudly and slowly walks away.)

I: (Yelling) Have a good weekend Ange.

Angelo: You too. The kids are waiting for you.

I: Right.( I walk meekly after him some steps and stop.) I like to be with them  these moments. Probably they are ready to go clubbing .

Angelo: Oh,  yeh, doubtless. ( Laughing  and disappearing  behind the new piles of tiles.)

The curtain falls.

Scene Tow

(Log  M Restaurant  in Kings Cross. Romeo is sitting with two strange men )

Romeo: (Silently looking at the north-corner of the  restaurant.)That is all what I could think of.

Man I: Mr. Maserati!

Romeo: Call me Romeo, sir,

Man I: Well, Romeo, lets be more specific.I see

Kay Hassan

Part One

Scene One

 Interior of the  unaccomplished complex in  Rushcutters Bay in Sydney .  It is  of a day in the middle of  Autumn .The storm hits the city.  Normal life is on hold in the city. Driving through the  wild storm is a catastrophe -Radio says thousands of houses are without power

Cars are flattened under the falling trees - Roofs are ripped .Streets are flooded like the ancient rivers. Giant waves are hitting our shores - Buildings are shaking. Houses are washed away

A Vietnam veteran's died - Hunter river is the wildest. Thousands of volunteers are rushing into those suburbs to help people: they are real heroes. The huge cellar of the complex is quite compared with spaces between the buildings  but the sky above the roofs was furious by contrast.

Barbara :  Ich nenne Architektur gefrorene Musik. ( (Her blue glittering  eyes stare at me.  She is eighteen  tall and well built with a  beautiful  good-looking face  with expression  of superiority .She is not the only woman in the mega construction site but her presence is so dominating that we rarely feel the others' touches .   Her eyes remind  me of  the beautiful spark of God ; solemn and sublime. She has a  short blonde color- hair hardly touches her  reversible high visibility vest over her overall jeans . I am  a descendant of a illegitimate son of Saladin  ,not that tall , actually  has been  built on weaker and modest model,has dark eyes and grey hair and  dressed rough clothes. And  we are both wearing armored boots and hats.)

The main gate is flattened and the exit ramp is flooded.  Angelo. (A giant  athletic man)  is the Site Manager, he walks towards the gate  and stands watching the chaos. He puts his hands in his pocket  and wildly  yells  at the sky ." Fuck."

Barbara and I are watching him from the circular  lobby of  the building number five . She turns her eyes and stares stunningly  at the first building.

Barbara: Look.

I: What?He said fuck.

Barbara: I say, look.

I: I see Angelo.

Barbara:Look at the building. I say : Ich nenne Architektur gefrorene Musik.

I : Not in this  storm, sweety..

Barbara:  LOOK. (Screams she and nods to the first buildings facade in the rain.) It is frozen under the storm.

I:Perhaps , sometime.

Barbara: It is always, It is always. You are not perfect too.

I:Shredded...shredded.I know how the storm has changed your mood.

Barbara : What? Fuck  I am used to a worse weather.

I : I am not ridiculing your experience, but say that in the right time.

Barbara: When is the  right time coming?

I : When  I am  done.

Barbara : We  are talking about continuous concept.

I: Marvelous.

Barbara: What is marvelous?"

I:  Continuous concept."

Andreas :(He  comes closer with his bare chest. ) Why everyone thinks Barbara is smart? (Andreas is little and thin, speaks with Hispanic accent, and  is obsessed with tracing back his Spanish ancestors."    Barbara: Andreas. You  shut up.

I:  Right .You shut up  Andrew.

Andreas: I  say why?.

I: Because she is from Goethe's country, (Eventually Andreas  leaves.)

Barbara:  You fucking old man,.

I: What makes you so angry, little goddess?

Barbara:You!

I: ME? What are you looking at ?

 Barbara:I am looking at your wild look.

I:What is wrong with my wild look?

Barbara:How could  you dismiss Dmitri so cruelly ?

I: Dismiss? No ...no. I have no authority to do that.

Barbara: Tell me the truth.

I:  He just  was not great yesterday..

Barbara: Honestly , what happened?

I: He dismantled the scaffold before even I ran the cables for the surveillance cameras?

Barbara: I guess. Probably  someone told him to.Imagine  what would happen in this storm  if he did not.

I: Nothing.

Barbara: Who knows?

 However, it is better to say.'It is not the end of the world.'

I: Right, he only needed to ask someone.

Barbara: Definitely, Angelo knows, doesn't he?

I: No.he doesn't know.

Barbara:This building is ugly, compared with the first one.

I: Don't challenge me. There is no difference.

Barbara:I can  feel its music.

I:There is no difference.

Barbara: Perhaps for you.  I have better eyes.

I: Look. It is a complex of a billion Dollar budget, they won't make such  a big mistake.

Barbara: There is no WOW.Don't escape my question.

I:  Look BB, I promised  Sam, but he fucked my plan .

 Barbara: Fuck Sam. Instead of getting supplied with materials for north side windows, he yells at me for not having worked on the  west side windows.

I: You may fuck him, but I can't .

Barbara: I dare to fuck him now.

I: He is a good guy. He is Jewish.

Barbara:    I am Jewish  too.

I :I know.

Barbara: And a very far relative to Karl Marx , you know him, do not  you?

I: Good Heaven! That is impossible- Frau M.

Barbara:I’m either way German.

I: Terrific, I am shocked.

Barbara:Am I telling a lot about myself.

I:I am honored, tell me  what ever you like.

  Barbara: Oh, dear. Old man, you are adorable. You can't do bad things.

I: What? I am evil too.

Barbara:NO, no. There is  only Dmitri. Dmitri.(The wind does not  let up .)

 I: ( With indifferent response.)  Fuck, what?

 Barbara:  I say Dmitri.

I:  Dmitri! what is good about Dmitri.

 Barbara:Look. We have to make a deal.

I: He does not let us deal with him. Actually he pissed me off.

Barbara:You are friends.

I:We were sort of.

Barbara:Fuck. Listen ,I feel responsibility  for what happened to Dmitri's  family.

I: What ?  Are you crazy. You are from Treves in Germany  and he is from Astrakhan on Caspian sea.

Barbara:That is the point."

I: Bullshit.

Barbara:Well. Listen to his story.

I: What story?

Barbara:The one I know.

I:  What else.

Barbara:I am a woman, have a feeling .

I : I see.

Barbara:Fuck, don't go too far.

I: I Won't.  I know he does not speak to me anyway, at least today.

Barbara: Do not be silly.Easter is coming. We will be having  a huge party.

I: Right. But I am not coming.

Barbara: No, you are coming.

I: No, I am not  coming.

Barbara: I say, yes, you are coming. I have an announcement.

I: Personal announcement?”

Barbara: Absolutely.

I: Lets talk to Angelo.(I walk out through the glass door  of the circular lobby.)

Barbara:(Grudgingly.) Hmm( She  follows  me.)

(The Curtain Falls)

................................................................................

Scene Two

We are standing behind Angelo. (He is a giant cheerful and friendly athletic man. He is thirty five .His face is blond and well-formed, good-looking. There is strength and stubbornness in his expression but sometimes looks  unsettled, untamed. He thinks if he could buy a  thousand heads of goats for his father's deserted  farm in Greece, he would live like a king )

I: Here is Angelo. ( I yell.)

Barbara:Fuck Angelo. (Whispers she. Then she speaks loudly.) See you..

I: Stay with me, little  goddess.

Angelo: Barbara, wait.

Barbara: What?

Angelo: What is happening ?.

Barbara: Nothing.What  do you mean.

Angelo: Go and check the list of your materials; they have just arrived. Stop whingeing.

Barbara: Thanks. I will. Don't be harsh on Dmitri.

Angelo : Seriously, what happened?

I: Nothing, nothing.

Angelo: Look... I did not tell him to dismantle the scaffold. I swear.

I:I know  Dmitri did it by his own.

Angelo: Yes. Don't worry...just  leave it for me.No one can work in this fucking weather.

Sam:( Sam passes, He has an elegant oval visage. He is twenty-five, tall and gaunt,trying his best to keep Angelo impressed by his engineering talent and management skill   but marred by his rather gross ambition and determination . He is dressed in his smart blue jacket and jeans .)

I: Is Sam angry?"

Angelo: Not as much as the storm is.

I: Thanks. What is going on , on your side?"

Angelo: Oh , yeh, fuck. I forget.This storm is not natural.

I: Fuck, shit. What are you talking about?

 Angelo: I say it is not natural.(He halted and snapped.)  Fuck, I forgot! Do you know Romeo?

I:  Not really.

Angelo: Me either. ( He laughs) He said. 'An extreme  phenomenon of the sort is  artificial. '

I: What ? You don't know him!

Angelo: You know I him his boss.

I: I see.

Angelo:  It is very important to see him.

I: Why?

Angelo: It is about  the theory.

I: What theory, and why should we see him?

Angelo:  'Cause he is almost Illuminati. He says natural disasters no more have God's signature.

I: What?( I say and laugh surprisingly .)You just said I don't know him.

Angelo: I am serious, and I will introduce you to him .

I: But,why are you so nervous today?

Angelo:I don't know, the storm affects my nerve!  Oh, yeh...right.  Motherfucker pissed me off.

I: Who  ?The storm?

Angelo:No.  Darko!

I: DARKO? Fuck.  He is just a kid.

Angelo: But, he pissed me off.

Angelo: Hi, Sam.(Sam passes by us again.)

Sam: Angelo. Where is the work progress report.( He does not stop.)

Angelo: It is ready.

Angelo: Fuck. Look how this  kid  governs us.

I: His money does.

Angelo: Right, his father's money.

I : Ignore him now.  What did Darko say? He did not kill you, did he?

Angelo: He said you are exaggerating about history."

I: That is not a big deal.

Angelo: No, it is. For me it is."

I: Why?

Angelo: Because I am Greek, and you know how things work for me.

I: Right. But, what does he have to say about it ?

Angelo : Nothing. he just  challenged me.

I: Don't take it personal.

Angelo: I won't, but I need to have another go  with you, particularly through this fucking theory.

I: I like the those fucking  old hypocrites!

Angelo: No, no. I am serious.

I: Any time. I am ready.

Angelo: It was about Macedonia.

I: OH MY GOD.STOP IT. Darko is a Mongolian kid.

Angelo: Don't ridicule my cause.

I: Sorry,  I won't. I won't. Look at his yellow face; he is a Mongolian kid.

Angelo: Anyway.  I am taking  you to meet Romeo.

I: Seriously, who is Romeo?

Angelo: Doubtless, you  have seen him. He is the man with the shortest pant in this premises.

I:(Remembering him.)  OH. Holy Mother O' God.

Angelo: (He laughs very loudly.)He is fine , don't worry about his pant.

 The curtain Falls

Part Two

            

Scene One

Log  M Restaurant  in Kings Cross.We sit on a long row of olive couches facing our workmates  occupying a row of brown  chairs,behind  tables of the same color which  are lightened by cubic light bulbs planted  on them.

Barbara: Dmitri.  Dmitri is  drunk?.Who pays for all his shit ?

Angelo: He  won't pay, you know why, Barbara?

Barbara:No I don't.

Andreas: Sam does.

Sam: (Proudly.) Drink as much as you can.

Barbara: Dmitri stop  drinking ?

I :Drink Andreas.

Andreas: I do.”

Angelo: Stop spending your money on chicks.(Ha Ha Ha.)

Andreas: What else  have I to do? Oh, Gabriela Mi Amore.

I:  Spoil yourself, Dmitri.

Barbara: Oh, wise man, do not  corrupt the youth.

I:  He does not listen to my advise anyway.

I:  Josh, check  if Sam is  paying?You can't trust everyone these days..

Joshua:(Screams)  Mate (  He claims he is a descendant  of  Anne Boleyn's sister  .  He is twenty-seven , tall and strong .  He is  defiant, has two  blow piercing  eyes, and  has  brown hair." You are in an honest hand.

Barbara: (Smiling .) You are too, a hypocrite kid, baby.

Joshua: Fuck, I try to help.

I: That is what Hypocrite does; you are perfect.

Barbara: Josh, please.

 Joshua: What?

Barbara: Let me go.

Joshua:(With shocked eyes.) Going where?

Barbara: Let me have a go.  My announcement.My announcement.

I: Oh, yes. What are you waiting for?"

 Barbara: Well listen. (Everyone was frozen, and thinking, what kind of surprise that freak'n girl has prepared for them.)I am leaving the country very  soon.

-WHAT?-  (We shout with a loud screech)  WOW. (Everyone cheers except Joshua.)

 I: (Blowing- shocked.) Barbara, are  you serious? ( Tried then to take it easily.)

(Everyone screams again-) WOW-

I: We miss you , indeed.

(Chorus like everyone says) We miss you, indeed. (And kisses  her, and hugs  her for a long while.)

Barbara: (She sheds glittering tears.) I am overwhelmed.

“Miss you miss you miss you.”

I: Going back to school.

Barbara: Home, school. What about you Dmitri?

Dmitri: (Doesn't reply.)

I : He needs money.

Joshua: Fair enough. I understand.(Says angrily.)

Barbara: (Seriously.) No you don't.

Dmitri: (Gasps angrily .)

I: Shut up Josh.

I: Calm down, Dmitri, talk about your feeling.

Barbara: Should he, Old man? I think he is scared.

I: It is better if he  needs  to.

Joshua: We are friends no matter what . Here or there.

Barbara:(Ignoring Joshua's comment.)  I think , Dmitri  needs to talk.

Joshua: (Submissively.) Then say something, Dmitri

Dmitri: It is hard to talk. If talked I have to say.' I won't let my smart sister become a prostitute.(Silently looking at me. I can't encourage him, or support him.)

Barbara: Dmitri, Dmitri.

Dmitri: She is studying in Moscow.They say the fucking  tourists are paying well and I am so scared that I sent all my money to her, and consequently begged my father to lend me money  to help my mother in the hospital before she  died.'

Angelo and Joshua: (Screaming together.) Fuck.

Dmitri: I told him: Think about your daughter:  you used to preach  how rich men  might seduce  poor women .He said : Look , I am sorry, I was so wrong.

 Barbara " ( Cries midst our shocked eyes..) Dmitri I am sorry.

Angelo and I: What?

Barbara: I hope I could change the history.

Joshua: ( He looks at us) Bullshit, why does not he help his wife.

I:  The  bastard  had divorced her .

Andreas : Is he poor?

Dmitri: NO.No.

 Joshua: Is he  a business man? Like Sam's father.

Dmitri: NO.(He stopped talking.)

Barbara:  Dmitri speak.

Dmitri: If you are keen to listen then  let me talk; they are twelve thousand mile away from here .

Sam: We are all yours.

Dmitri: Thank you...lucky me.

Joshua: Then what are you waiting for?

Dmitri: Right... listen, all of you. In the start of the last century  my grand grandfather had built a small old style  knitting factory.”

Joshua : Where?

Dmitri: In  my city.

Dmitri: Where else...fuck?

Joshua:  Am I bad?

I :Yes you are.

Dmitri:(He yells)  Let me finish.

Joshua : Fine ...fine. You drink well.

Dmitri:  The little factory was taken by the  Bolsheviks and  transformed it to a modern factory producing fabric and mink fur.

Sam: They took it just like that?

Dmitri: Yes, Just like that.Do you you care?

Sam: Yes I do...otherwise I would not listen to you.

Dmitri: Thank you .LISTEN .

Dmitri: They  let him working in a farm out side the city for twenty two  years, however, when his son, my grandfather was wounded in the war world two they let him come back and work in the factory but he died very soon.

(We scream )Wow.

Dmitri: And later when my grandfather died my father had already became a dependable technician in the factory, and ironically  his rank in the party  was higher than his Manager's.

Barbara : What do you mean?

Dmitri :(Angrily) Ask your grandfather. It takes me ages to explain this point.

Joshua : Pass, anyway.

I:Dmitri ,Dmitri.  I understand very well.

Dmitri:  Love you old man.

Dmitri: He found accidentally  that his grandfather was related to Vladimir Ilych Lenin's father. I mean they  were ethnically from Chuvash people.

I : (I yelled) Fuck.  You are talking gibberish.

 Dmitri: Look , that was a great honor at that time.Actually he became the lord of the factory with the magical  power of the deceased man .

Sam: Was he rich?

Dmitri: Rich, poor were meaningless words at that time.But,  his giant step, after  Perestroika (перестро́йка) was to  record the factory in his name.

Sam: What?”

Dmitri: I am telling the truth.

Sam: We know...we know.

Dmitri: I am not worried about his era.

Joshua: What is your concern then?

Dmitri: The bastard divorced my mother very soon and kicked us out - and  married his young secretary.I helped my mother and struggled until  finished my study. Then started working for him in the factory until recently I got this work visa to here for one year.

Sam:  So you own a big factory.

Dmitri: Fuck. NO,  yelled Dmitri.

 Sam: I mean when he dies.

 Dmitri: Right, but he has got four boys from his new wife.

Sam: Sorry. Let me  take care of the  bills of those  who are leaving early.

I: (Cynically.) )We can pay.

Sam: No you can't, good man, I am paying for two hundred persons.

Barbara:  (Screams.) I told you, I told you, Old wise man.

Angelo: (Interferes, and yells, as he nods to me .)  Prepare to meet Romeo.

I: Is it a right time? (I mean it is not proper place to talk our private topic.)

Angelo: For God's sake, ignore  etiquette

I: ( I am urged.) Catch up latter, BB.

Barbara: Think better.Remember; no drama, no myth.

I: I will. I promise.

Angelo: Lets lose our innocence.

I: Ready. I am ready.(Following Angelo.)

Angelo: Here is Romeo.(He is  siting on the table number 12)  By the way, I think she is obsessed with Dmitri's crisis.

I: What? Who. (I was, certain he meant Barbara.)

Angelo: Never mind.

(We walk towards Romeo. His friends have already left.)

The curtain falls.

Scene Two

Angelo: Good evening  , Romeo..

Romeo:(A man of middle height neither dark nor blond; in other words he was a man with a typical Italian mild face)  Good evening  Angelo. You know him.(Angelo nods to me.)

Romeo: Oh, yeh. Hi.

I: Hi.

Angelo: Have not you drunk yet, Romeo ?

Romeo: No.No I've not. Actually, I have been thinking about Darko. He told me you  are like  twins.

Angelo: Really? Oh, yes. But , never listen to him . He is an idiot.

Romeo:  Let me confess, Angelo. From my perspective,  it is not fair to leave your friend think that he is a descendant of Sumer.

I: Good  heaven , he is talking about me, is not he?

Romeo: I am sorry I won't  say anything else about my point of view, at least now.Don't be ashamed. I, personally,  am a descendant of  Hugues de Payen, the founder  of the Templars: I mean the Order of Solomon's Temple, and I have all our  churches' evidences and documents of my blood line  .

Angelo: Wow.You are a blessed man.

Romeo: I tell you this ,because we are part of this miss.

I: Marvelous start.

Angelo: (Giving a nasty look.)We are willing to hear.We are, in fact, voluntarily some  sort of researchers.

Romeo : Angelo. it  is not about you, personally.

Angelo: (Uncertainly.)   I am  in, either way.

Romeo: Only If you both  accepted my points of view.

Angelo: What are they?

Romeo: (Proudly.)  IN THIS WORLD WE ARE APPRENTICES FOREVER.(He brushes his  long brown   hair.)  And we have to  raise  questions contentiously .

Angelo: (Looks confused.)

I: We are apprentices. otherwise we are dead.

Angelo: That is better for me.(Excitedly screams.)

Romeo : Hopefully, we are close.

Angelo: I am certain we are  on the same page, Romeo.

Romeo: Look, man.(He looks at me carefully.) the people of Sumer had left this SHIT PLANET  four thousand years ago.

I:  ( Listening to the silence and gasps in shock) What?

Angelo: What do mean? (Screams Angelo.) Where is your proof?

Romeo: You are not patient adequately .

I: Romeo.   For such a serious Hypothesis,  you need to discuss  Strong  Evidences  , don't you?

Romeo: Certainly, I do. In fact we have already passed that stage.

I: (Cynically ) COOL.

Romeo: Listen.THIS IS CRUCIAL

Angelo: (To me.) No shit.

Romeo: Evidences; listen  and prepare to the surprise.

Angelo: Good heaven.

 Romeo: Ready?(Tying to predict  our responses.) Good. Listen.We say .'Noah's Ark is absolutely not Noah's Ark".

Angelo: (He yells) Fuck. Sorry. Good Heaven. We both believe it is.

Romeo: It is a bullshit, with all due respect .

Angelo: (Laughs sardonically.) Then what is it?

Angelo: ( Silently, watches Barbara for no real reason.) I sear to God  Barbara wishes  to join us.

I:(Enthusiastically.)   Can I invite her to join us?(Pauses and gasps. ) She is interested in men's  issues .

Romeo: Barbara? NO.NO. She is not my type, man. She is  just  a little girl.

I: She is eighteen.

Romeo:( She is eighteen! It doesn't work like that, mate.  She relates pure politics directly with the THEORY, such as the Russian Revolution.

Angelo: Look, Romeo. This old man is my theory maker  and BB is my practical hands; she is young and full of blood.

Romeo: Listen .Angelo, Angelo , you are a bit noisy. I said.' No.'

Angelo: Fine, fine.We are all yours. I know this fucking theory takes a lot.

Romeo: Look Angelo I know you are honest about all these stuff, but you need some basics.

Angelo: (He yells.) Romeo.  We are on the same page.I have read all your magistrates' highlights.

Romeo: That is fine. But  to understand THE THEORY is a long way,and  not something that  can be taught by some fucking  UNI's Profs. or teachers or law makers.

Angelo: Don't miss this opportunity.This old man  will be shocking  you, everyday in a different way.

Romeo:  I won't suspect anyone's talent, just I hope you are in the right place.

Angelo: Definitely  we are.

Romeo: So... when you ready say, YES?

Angelo:  YES, YES,

Romeo: I'll not  review the classical Theory if it suits both of you.

I: Go ahead.

Romeo: Eventually, I ask, can you remember what have I  said about  Sumer?

Angelo: Have not you said.' They had left  the planet? Right.But, how? Where are the your  evidences ? I have no clue."

I:  There is none.

Romeo: HOW ABOUT NOAH'S ARK.

Angelo:  NOAH'S ARK? You said it is not Noah's Ark.

Romeo: YES. The ARK  is not Noah's. It is in fact  a Sumerian space ship. ships, or fleets. They took off and left the planet. (He speaks frankly and confidently.)

 Romeo: Ironically Tanach or in general  ' Bible' writers  made it a main issue for  Abrahamic faiths.

Angelo:( He laughs and screams randomly.)

Romeo: You breach the commitment.

Angelo: Sorry I don't  mean to. I am just excited.

I : I like you, Romeo.We are not in hurry.however, we prefer to derive some evidences; empirical evidences.

Romeo: I have my evidences, more than you expect, if you are interested  take these  CDs.  (He produces  from his bag a couple of discs and relays them to me.) Take your copy,Angelo

I: Thank you.  I believe we need a theory to justify how the precedent events work  in full swing with  the new world  order.

Romeo: Impressive. Impressive.

Angelo: I told you,Romeo.He is damn good.

Romeo: Seeking  approval is very complicated process , and any one's authenticity must be passed through the magistrates' watching eyes.

I:Any other evidences?

Romeo: Definitely. (He snaps victoriously.) Ezekiel's Vision of God.

I: Good one.

Angelo: (Yells in fear.) Enlighten me.

I: Do not panic, man.Just write down  in your diary. 'Read Book of  Ezekiel.'

Romeo : I don't stop at this point forever. Listen, these examples are for apprentices.

Angelo :(Grinning.)  Then let us be your Apprentice, master.

Romeo :  ( Grudgingly.)It depends on the  level  of your expectations.

Barbara:( Interrupting.  ) I couldn't resist my greed.

Romeo : (Grudgingly) I hope it suits both of you, guys.( And after a  short pause, he explodes .) But , it does not suit  me.

Angelo: ( Yells in shock. ) Romeo!

I: (Speechless, waiting for a breakthrough)

Romeo:(Decisively,  leaves.) By the way , we have not said anything. Right ? Have a good night.

Barbara: Fuck, what was that?

Romeo: (No response.)

Angelo: My apology.

Barbara: It is  not about you , Ange.

I: Probably, he  was not ready to show his hands.I mean to disclose his secrets.

Barbara: For God sake , don't look for excuses, in behalf of him. He is just an idiot. By the way.(She looks at me furiously.) You  are a bad hypocrite.

I: Thank you . I did not know that, but he was tense with the excitements.Actually the man can't cope with strangers, easily.

Barbara: Fuck. I am leaving . I am sure that is what you want both.

I: You are absolutely wrong. 

Barbara: (She leaves without a single word.)

Angelo: At least say, good night , BB. Lets end our night, good man.

I: Good night, Angelo.

(We leave grudgingly.)

The curtain falls

Scene Three

Four day later. On the roof of the building number one.

Angelo was cranky and screaming randomly at Kamal.

Angelo: Never happened. Never happened.

Kamal: Angelo, make it clearer.( (Kamal  is stunned. His face is  dark and calm ; it is  a blend  of the Indian descendant and oceanic blood . He is twenty-seven , tall and strong. His carriage reminds one of the men who suddenly  pop up  from the depth and obscurity of the oceans.)

Angelo: It is clear. Only,  get the job done, we won't stay here forever.

Kamal:  (He looks at me.) Am I the only one here?

Angelo: Fuck, man, I know what I am talking about.

I: Angelo.

Angelo: I am not taking orders from anyone.

I: (Nervously I try to leave the roof.)

Angelo: (He is angry.) I do not say leave.

I: (Cynically ) Bad choice.

Angelo: Dmitri will be helping you, Kamal. 

Kamal: ( He doesn't respond  .)

I:( I am close to the door, and ready to leave the  roof.) Angelo, you are wasting  my time.

Angelo: (Frowning and grabbing my arm  .)  I am happy with that, old man.

(We  are now  standing close to the door. )

I:By the way.  Romeo was rude with BB.

Angelo: (Confusedly )Right. But,guess what?

I: What?

Angelo: According  to Sam,   Romeo  is not coming anymore.He has quit.

I : Are you serious?

Angelo:YES. And that is why I am cranky these days.

I: (Bragging ) At least I can say now. 'He is not free.'

Angelo:  You reckon?By the way, have you watched his CD?

I: yes.

Angelo: What was it about?

I: It is a long story.It starts with some recent catastrophes and many unsolved historical mysteries.

Angelo: Marvelous  ( And he leaves the roof.)

 I: (I follow him meekly.)

The Curtain falls.

Scene  Four

Next day.  I am testing  carbon monoxide sensors in the lower cellar . Angelo and Barbara are rushing down the ramp. Barbara's eyes  boldly  glare with hard, defiant looks.

Barbara: Hey. (  She  looks with a queer smile  .) Stop, fuck , listen.You know nothing.

Angelo: (Laughing aloud.) 

I:  (No longer doubting myself.)Let me  guess... I guess.

Angelo:    No, No. (Irresponsibly .)

Barbara:  Angelo.(Seriously.) It is not funny.

Angelo: BB, stop.

Barbara: Who told you to call me BB?

Angelo: Your friend.

Barbara: (Looks at me with eyes full of  fire.)

I:  What are you  waiting for?

Angelo: (Quietly)  It is about Romeo.

I: What is wrong about him?

Angelo: ( Angrily.) Sam has lied about Romeo.

Barbara: (Defiantly.)No, he has n't. He does not know the details.(She struggles to find her words.)Actually Police questioned him about the last  moments you spent with him. .

Angelo: Oh, God.  What do you call it then?

I: Damn ye. You can't beat those magistrates.

Angelo: Romeo? Man, he is missing.

I:(Terrified. and seriously looking at him  )

Angelo: ( Restlessly , waiting for my verbal  response.)

I: Are you  serious?

Angelo: Definitely, yes.

 I: It is a great disaster,indeed.

Angelo:What ?( Screams to  deny our involvement.)  I don't understand what do you mean.

I: We are the last ones who met him and are  the strangest combination of men and women here.

Angelo: (He is stunned.) No one listens to such bullshits..

Barbara: You both are crazy.I heard the news first,and  there is nothing to fear of.

Angelo: BB, I am not expecting from you more than that.

Barbara:(Angrily.) Fuck. Don't call me BB.What did I said?

Angelo:Fine , Barbara.

I: There is a man MISSING.

Angelo: Is there a way to help him.

I: I am thinking .

Joshua: (Breathlessly  rushing down the ramp, looking for  Barbara.)

Barbara: Josh!

Joshua: Police is here, they mentioned your name.

Barbara: My name (She looks shocked .)He was not even  nice to me?

I: Look! Don't talk too much. The worse case scenario is .

Angelo :(Interrupting me.) Don't scare her.

I: I won't.BB, tell  them exactly  what happened, briefly.

Angelo:Then,  they  interrogate us.

I: Definitely they will.

Angelo: Fuck. I remember nothing.I was drunk.

I : Right, but it is abut our physical presence  there WITH HIM.

Angelo:  I am sure there was no tension between us.Definitely we were watched through their fucking  cctv eyes.

I: We are lucky.

Angelo: We did not talk, did we?

I: Good heaven,  we did.

Angelo: Fuck.

I: Angelo, look , we have no problem with police.

Angelo: You  reckon?

I: I am certain. But.

Angelo: What do mean by your 'But'?

I:  I am scared of a third party.

Angelo:Fuck, I am not ready for that.

Barbara: (She has n't recovered from her shock.) Angelo I am going to meet them.

Joshua: They have n't called you yet..

Angelo: Right. It is better to do your job.Josh take care of her.

I: Barbara, we won't let you down.

Barbara: Thanks. You know where to find me.(She leaves with Joshua.)

Angelo: What the hell are you talking about?

I: (Silently looking at him.)

Angelo:Fucking third what?

I: Third Party. Man, listen, if Romeo was not a delusional, someone has an interest in his disappearance.

Angelo: Wait, wait wait.You mean it, you mean it, fuck. (He screams) UNDERSTOOD

I:  Then, explain it please.

Angelo: You mean, , he has been punished for disclosing their secrets.

I: Exactly.So.(I push to calm him down.)We wait.

Angelo: We wait.(He walks away with a loud laughter.)

I: ( I stay alone thinking and working silently.)

The curtain falls

Scene Five

 Three police officers are  interviewing Barbara in the Sam's office.

Matt: Barbara.( A middle aged man with  florid complexion and  two prominent plump cheeks and cold eyes. He introduces himself and his companions to Barbara. ) We ask you only one question. Please answer us precisely.

Barbara: (Responds listlessly." Yes, sir." 

 Matt: (He consults the other two officers for a very short time.) It is a stress free conversation.

Barbara :(Interrupting him.)  I am ready, sir.

Matt: First of all, prior to the moment you interrupted them, you have nothing to worry about.

My colleague.(He nods to his companion on his right hand side , and reassure his name.)  Officer Albert, will  officially asks you his  question please kindly make your answer as briefly as you can.

Barbara:  Yes, sir.

Albert: (  ) Obviously, you are aware what  all this is about,  and for the momentum of the case , there are three officers dedicated to the investigation

Barbara: Yes, sir.

Albert: (He gestures to the female officer.) Officer Flora, are you recording?

Flora: Yes, I definitely, am

Albert: Then,Barbara, listen carefully: When you approached your friends  Romeo gave them a big frown of disapproving  and left the table  immediately.(He cleaned his throat, snoring, strangely.) The crucial question is: what happened henceforth ? 

Barbara:(Hesitantly, she  stammers , but gradually regains her confidence.) As, as,  as an excuse for  my intrusion. ( She stops for a while.) I said. I said. 'I couldn't resist my greed.' In his response grudgingly, Romeo told his companions. 'I hope it suits you, guys.  But it does not suit me.' Then he left  immediately.

Matt: Correct !

Barbara: (She is stunned. She yells.) Correct? Exactly . What do mean?

I have nothing else to say, sir.You knew it...you knew it.

Matt: Barbara, we know ...we know. Thank you for your help. Let me say.'You can go .'

Barbara:(Dazzled. But, hailed.) Really ? Anyway, thank you.

Matt: You're welcome.

Barbara: (Overwhelmingly , walking  out alone. But suddenly  hears a shout.)

Matt: Barbara. We won't interview your friends.

Barbara: (Cynically, shouted out side the office.) I know.

The three police officers look at each other without saying  a single word.

The curtain  falls.

Scene six

The cellar. I am testing the equipment.

Barbara: (She is coming out from the lift's cabinet , and shouts. ) I'm done.

I: ( I am surprised.) BB, what happened.

Barbara: They interviewed me.It was  about a crime, isn't it?

I: (Nervously.) No shit. You ask me?

Barbara:( She is shrinking in side her skin.)  I am scared.

I: ( Silently showing my respect to her feeling.)

Barbara: They verbally  displayed the scene and focused on the last moments when I came close to your table and said. 'I couldn't resist my greed.'

I: (With encouraging mood,) Excellent.

Barbara: (Strangely shouting.) He's gone. Romeo's gone.

I: ( Uncertain what to say.) Take it easy, baby.

Barbara: ( Shouts Loudly.) Fuck, I am worried about you.

I: What?

Barbara: Listen, one of the officers  said. 'We won't interview your friends.'

Why did he say that?Think with me.

I: ( In shock.) It is a big blow.( Thinking massively.) Wait a minute ...wait a minute.

Probably,they take advantages of your  mistakes .

Barbara: I haven't done any.

I: Listen , we have to warn Angelo immediately.

Barbara: I am the one who supposed to do that.

I:(Seriously.) Then,  what are you waiting for?Besides, let me think  without disturbances. 

Barbara: (She leave silently , but shouts before she disappear .)Coming back.

I: ( Staying in my place and thinking loudly.) Romeo!What were you hiding ?( Trying my best to focus on my job.)Someone has to find out, but we are just a bunch of stray boys.

Angelo: ( He appears suddenly.)

I: Any news?

Angelo :( Laughing loudly.) The whole story is just  bullshit.They have  left  without  asking us a sing question.

 I: Right, but the investigation is going on.Besides.(Angelo makes noises.) Listen, there is a man missing right now, and we are definitely involved in the police's point of view, and in those unknown agents'.

Angelo: Stop, stop.

I: Fuck.  Magistrate!  Magistrate.(Shrieking.) Angelo

Angelo: And specifically.' The magistrates' watching eyes.'  But what the fuck are you on about?

I: It means Romeo ,somehow,  relates to those unknown devils.

Angelo: Go ahead.

I: (With sardonic look.)Go ahead?

  Do you know how long it took me to say that?

Angelo: I have no idea, just tell me what to do.

I: Thank you, Ange. I am taking  Dmitri to  Hog  L Restaurant. He knows one of the  waitress there. We have to watch the whole scene with our own eyes

Angelo: What for?

I: To catch the thread of the crime.

Angelo: Crime?

I:(Exaggerating.) Corpse atop corpse

Angelo:How can I help?

I: Keep Sam under control.

 

Angelo: I can't promise,  Motherfucker is volunteering-ly  trying to remind  the police as if the crime happened here.

I: Then do nothing.

Angelo: I'll  cover for you and Dmitri , anyway.(He steps away to leave. He changes his mind soon.) Let me call Dmitri.(He talks on his mobile phone)Dmitri , Dmitri.

I: My appreciation.

Angelo: Dmitri is coming...this is your idea not mine. 

 I: Right.

Angelo: He says the storm has erupted.

I: Can't hear anything.

Angelo: I know...I know ... Let me have a look. Probably, it calls for another victim. 

I: Is it  a natural storm ?

Angelo: Fuck, how do I know?

I: Well, you know him better than me.

Angelo: Don't mention his name.

I:Fine.No one is here.( I am silenced.)

Angelo: Who knows?Were not we alone?

I:  Right.(Disappointed.)

(We are silently waiting for Dmitri.)  

The curtain falls.

  ****

Part Three

Scene One

Dmitri: ( Suddenly, appears with his tallness and the Russian's touch.)Angelo, here I am .

Angelo: Thank you for  your coming. Dmitri, listen.  On contrary  to  your  expectation, I am asking you to do me a favor.(He looks at me hesitantly.) It is serious.

Dmitri: What is it?

Angelo: Do you know any one in the Log  M Restaurant ?

Dmitri: (He is excited.)  Why ? In fact yes I do.

Angelo: Marvelous. Man,  we need your help for a risky mission.

Dmitri: Me.

I: Angelo, it is not a mission. 

Angelo: What is it then?

I : Look Dmitri. You know Romeo has recently disappeared.

Dmitri:Yes I do.

I: You remember the event in the  restaurant  .

Dmitri: Yes I do.

I: Your girlfriend is working in the  place.

Dmitri: I have no girlfriend.

Angelo: Fuck , don't deny it... you are our only hope.

Dmitri: What are you talking about?

I: Listen  , Dmitri. The truth is we need to know what happened to Romeo.

Dmitri: I don't know how to help.

I: Right. Your friend can help.

Dmitri: Show me how.

Angelo: Just introduce us to her.

Dmitri : What?  I can't .I won't. Don't push me.

I: No one pushes you.

Dmitri: No, he does.

I: Well, what about another night?

Dmitri: I won't ask her for anything.

I: You don't need to.We will create a situation.

Dmitri: I won't let you use her.

Angelo: (Angrily)  Dmitri,  just leave.Forget it, we were wrong.

Dmitri: (Defiantly.) Fine, I will be living , but I am worried for not being understood.

I:Wait  a second, wait a second.(Gesture to  Angelo.) You  shut up.Dmitri, you said. ' I am worried for not being understood.' What do you mean,?

Dmitri: Look, I don't mind to help, but not the way you suggested.

I: Well,if you are serious please enlighten us.

Dmitri: Let us work it out without involving  the poor girl in our mess.  

Angelo: (Yells) How?

Dmitri : Specifically , tell me what do you need?

(It is a great blow.Dmitri shows more signs of enthusiasm .)

I: Everything happened at the   night of the event  during  the period between five o'clock to ten o'clock.

Dmitri: (Thinking and  raking  his hair with his long fingers.)  Done! But don't ask me questions.

I: Deal. Man, It's for Romeo.

Dmitri: For Romeo. 

Angelo: But, how does it work?

Dmitri: I said don't ask  me questions.

Angelo: In this case, it is better to restructure the question.(He gestures to me.) What are we supposed to to do?

I: ( Trying to shut him out  before Dmitri interrupts him.)

Dmitri: Nothing. Nothing. Just wait for me.

(Dmitri leaves.)

Angelo: Should we trust him?

I: We have  no choice.

Angelo: The time is up.(He laughs  loudly and slowly walks away.)

I: (Yelling) Have a good weekend Ange.

Angelo: You too. The kids are waiting for you.

I: Right.( I walk meekly after him some steps and stop.) I like to be with them  these moments. Probably they are ready to go clubbing .

Angelo: Oh,  yeh, doubtless. ( Laughing  and disappearing  behind the new piles of tiles.)

The curtain falls.

-Scene Tow

(Log  M  Restaurant  in Kings Cross. Romeo is sitting with two strange men )

Romeo: (Silently looking at the north-corner of the  restaurant.)That is all.

Man -I-: Mr. Maserati!

Romeo: Please call me Romeo, sir,

Man I: Well, Romeo, let's be more specific.(He looks serious.) I adore  the word- unequivocal-

Romeo: Nothing to say.

Man- II-: You confessed more than you were allowed to.

Romeo: I am a free minded man,  not taking orders  from anyone.

Man-I-:Don't be ungrateful, Romeo.

Romeo: Ridiculous!

Man I: It is an onerous burden.

Romeo:  Don't compel me to admit things I haven't done.

Man II: This is the cost  of  the significant tasks. You know what I mean.

Romeo: (Tossing his headphone on the table confronting  them with his fists clenched hysterically.)   Tasks? There is no proficiency in my obsession.

Man I: Don't underestimate yourself.

Romeo:I don't, but it is different, now...it is a cheap and filthy game,

Man II: What do mean?

Romeo:It is obvious.

Man I: What is obvious?

Romeo:Look at the media, look at the movies and Ads, and the new wars

 Man II:Fuck the hell up.They are all working independently.

Romeo:(The camera zoomed in for a close-up of -Man I's face) What are you doing?

Man I: (His face is frozen on the screen.)

Angelo: (In the middle of his office, nodding to Dmitri.)  Are you serious?

Dmitri: (Confidently.) That is it.(He switches off the screen and takes his device and  hides it in the pocket of his back) That is all. 

Angelo:  No. (Stunned) But it's interesting.(He studies   my impression for a while)What do you  reckon ?

I: Nothing much, at least now. We have to study every word they said. 

Angelo: Well, I think  it  is not -NOTHING. (He laughs loudly.)Doubtless, we will have ample time to question ourselves. 

Dmitri: Am I done?

I: Yes, Dmitri. Thank you.

Dmitri: Any time.( Relieved. He takes his laptop, and leaves .)

 Angelo: Who are those men? Why they were questioning him?

I:(Uncertain.)  Romeo  is either a rogue member , or they are attracting him - or even threatening him.(Silence.)But nothing is certain.

Angelo: I am impressed.

I: Impressed?

Angelo: Yes. Look how far we have come.

I: (Silent)

Angelo:  Doubtless, Police knows about this.

I: We don't have to interfere with them- we are not serving the law... just looking for the Truth about the Theory.

Angelo: Right, sorry-but  Romeo himself is our concern.

I: Romeo! (Sarcastically.)  We are not getting involved. (-The door is knocked-) I am leaving.

Angelo: Fuck. Police!

I: (Letting the door ajar - then widely let it open- Politely )Hi, come through, please.

Matt:  Officer Matt.(And he nods to his companion.) Officer Flora.

Angelo: Come through, Officers.

Matt: ( Smiling to Angelo seductively.) Have you expected us? (And nods to me to wait.)

I: (Thinking ,how- habeas corpus- can work for us, in case.) May I leave, sir.

Matt: I am afraid, our visit concerns you too.

Flora: ( Looks at the document she holds.)Today. Precisely, we are going to interview both of you, sir." She follows  Matt who sits soon  in Angelo's chair and spreads  his papers with her help. She sits next to Matt."

I: (Guardedly, I took a seat next to Angelo opposite to them-) So... it looks you are serious about something...

Matt: Absolutely right, sir , however, it is our duty to sort out what the course of debate is about.  Angelo: So, with all due respect,sir, what is it about?

Matt: Well, much you hear much you learn.

Angelo:  Right.

Matt: Our records show that, you and Romeo were  close friends. Right?

Angelo: I am his boss. There is nothing to hide.

Matt: I am talking about friendship and things you share with some people in particular.

Angelo: Get on with  the topic, please.

Matt: (He looked at me." Romeo is missing and you both were the last ones who talked to him.

I: (Interrupting him without hesitant.)  Even if your quotation is correct , what on earth you refer to.

Flora: It is better to listen till the end.

Matt: You came to a conclusion too early.

I: Because we have nothing else to say.

Matt: Let me remind you.

I: Remind me.

Matt;( He reads some paragraphs from   our conversation in the restaurant.)

Angelo: Did we say something illegal?Fuck, even if we did, doubtless we are free

Matt : That is not the point, sir,

I: With all due respect, that is the only -issue- you are qualified in, sir.

Flora: What do you mean, sir.?

I: Let me  make it clearer.This is not a police's mission, or duty,or whatever you call it.

Matt: Man, have you lost your mind, there is a crime!

Flora:(Regretting-ly talks to Matt .) Sir,I remind you, insulting  Police is an offence.

Matt: Take it easy, Officer.

Flora:(She looks at me fiercely, and snaps.)You better come down to the station.

I: (  Angrily.) It looks you took it personally.

Angelo: We don't mind to come down to your station, madam, if that is your problem. 

Matt: Well. Angelo, listen, I would not choose the station to question  you, but you both make it harder for yourselves.

Angelo : How?

Flora: Answer our question

Angelo: What is your question?

Matt: Everything was said during the last conversation with Romeo.

I: Have not you listened to our conversation?

(They looked to each other restlessly.)

Matt: Yes we have.

I: Then do it. Arrest us.

Matt: We can't , we have no evidences.

I: So leave us alone, and look for Romeo.

Flora: Absolutely, we can't.

Matt: Officer, Flora, give the list to Angelo and let all of them come down to the station. Angelo!(Matt yells  at Angelo.) What are you  doing?

Angelo:(He is still writing)  I wrote- I write for you ,guys,  the whole conversation with Romeo.Let my colleague check it too. (He signs the paper and  relays it to me.)

I: (Hilariously, printed my signature and gave it to Flora.)Man, I trust your memory and honesty. It's their trust you have to seek.

Flora:(Takes the signed paper. ) Let's have them compared.(She produces their copy which was taken from the restaurant's records.)

Angelo: (Waiting, anxiously.)

Flora: (Reading.) Terrific.Sir.(She relays the two versions to Matt.)Literally they are identical.

Matt: (Reading.) Keep it.

Angelo: Thank God.

Matt: I believe it is enough for today, however, doubtless we will have another meeting somewhere else.( Readying to leave.) Officer.

Flora: (Packing her documents.)Yes, sir.Ready.I am ready.See you, guys.

Angelo: See, you, Officer.

 Matt: See you.

The Curtain Falls.

-Scene Three-

(Matt's Office --Kings Cross Police Station.)

(Attendants, Matt, Flora, Angelo, Joshua, Dmitri,Sam,  Barbara, and myself.Suddenly... Romeo enters t;he office.)

Matt: (Responding to our shocked faces.)  Romeo,please tell your colleagues what you have told us.

Angelo: Motherfucker, where have you been?Missed, killed.
Romeo: (Grudgingly, whispering  to me and Angelo.)I was chasing the storm's source.
Angelo: What? But, you you did not do it in the right time.I mean you did after
Romeo: I did, but have not told you.
Angelo: Have you found anything?   

I: Angelo!
Matt: What are you talking about?
I: I told you, this  is none of - Police's business , Officer.
Romeo:Right, right-
Matt:  Romeo,please tell your colleagues what you have told us

Romeo: Police prefer to say- I was kidnapped,and I agreed.
I: So, there is nothing serious with Police.
Romeo: I think there is a trap, someone has used Police.
Matt: (Gestures to Romeo.) You can go home,actually your bail has been granted .(Then he casts pleasant  glances  at our faces one after another. ) I am sorry for this  professional misconduct, however, the situation is changed, and  there is nothing to talk about with you guys.(He leave.)
(Feeling-  we are asked to leave)
Romeo: ( Looks at me.) I am certain, you are absolutely aware of my feeling.
I: Right, definitely we gotta get out of here, and have  another go-
Romeo: And, for the theory,we are someday building our  team
I: Here we are... a real team  .
Romeo: -Sons of Conspiracy?
(Everyone hails.) Sons of Conspiracy.(And leaving the office.)

The curtain falls

Scene Four

(The team members at Log  M  Restaurant  in Kings Cross, at dinner time - .)
Angelo: What  is the story of the two strange  men who were sitting with you"
Romeo: (Surprised.) Those two men were behind the police intervention.
Angelo: I am confused about their questions.
Romeo: What are you talking about ? It is too much.
I: Romeo, you have to be  absolutely, transparent.


-Still coming 

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