Chapter 5
The Qur'an lay disrespectfully on the floor of the prayer room, next to Quatre's kneeling form. He didn't remember it falling from his hands, only faintly the muffled 'thump' as it landed on the carpet.
His mind raced around the words the book had spoken.
"My will is your law, you who are My chosen defenders. Know paradise through each other so that you will know family as I have commanded. Know love with each other so that you might know Me. I give you to each other as family, from now until the day you die defending My people. Raise those who enter My army as your children so that you might know what it is to be fathers. Love them as both wives and children, comfort them until they may learn to comfort you. I have chose you to protect those that cannot protect themselves, and I give you My blessings so that you might know My infinite love for you, My chosen Ones."
He'd committed this passage of Aisha's chapter to memory already, absorbing it as though it was life. So many things in it spoke of salvation for him, so many paragraphs offered him forgiveness and solace. Allah did not abandon him it said, instead He'd blessed him, promising him paradise in exchange for protecting His people.
He blinked, focusing his mind on the fallen book that either held salvation for him or damnation to those outside.
Violent tremors raced through his body as a chill seeped into his bones from somewhere unknown. The chapter, the new one, it couldn't be real, it just couldn't. Everything it said was a contradiction to Allah's teachings, everything! Men could not be with men, for any reason, even biological! But the text spoke of allowing it for these selected men who would fight to defend Islam. None of it could be real, none of it!
The chapter had to be fake, a fabrication of lies. These men were sent by the devil to tempt him, to make him believe that his freedom from suffering could be found on this plane instead of the next. No! He wouldn't be tempted. He wouldn't allow Satan to corrupt him! Allah might never save him, but he'd rather be lost for eternity than face Allah knowing he'd chosen to stand against him for convenience.
In a rush of rage on behalf of Islam, Quatre stood, absently picking up the Holy Book as he moved quickly towards the door. Before the sensor picked him up, he hesitated, taking a deep breath for what was to come. He'd expose them all as liars, as heretics of the faith, and he'd die for his faith if they chose to kill him to keep him silent.
When the door slid open, he saw Rashid and Abdule sitting on the couch together, their postures close. He'd interrupted a discussion they'd been having, and once again he hesitated wondering how long he'd run over the scriptures in his head on the floor of the prayer room.
Rashid was the first to address him.
"You have questions, Quatre." A statement, and Quatre felt the rage boil in him at the man's audacity. He knew he was a charlatan, and yet he continued to act as if he were speaking the truth. The shaking continued, this time with rage.
"It lies…you lie." His voice was barely controlled.
But Rashid slowly shook his head.
"No, Quatre, I speak the truth as much as the book in your hand does. Most do not believe the truth at first, they think it is too easy, that they did not have to do anything to achieve it. But the book and Allah's words through Aisha are correct."
In return Quatre violently shook his head in denial.
"Lies. Allah promised death to anyone who spoke falsely in His name! I won't fall to your temptations! I am damned, but I will not fall before Satan and beg!" He spat the words out, and he watched as Abdule closed his eyes as if he'd known this would be Quatre's reaction but had hoped otherwise.
"Quatre," he turned quickly to look at Rashid. "Allah knew that it would be against His teachings to send men out to war if there was no one to watch the women and children. He chose to create men who would fight to defend the Muslim masses so that the rest could continue in the tests He chose for them. But Allah is merciful, and knew that men forced into such lonely situations would forever be unhappy. He chose then to pick one hundred men that were shunned by society for their choices in sexual partners. These men would He grant a new set of laws, ensuring their happiness and their path to Him. Allah granted the Maguanacs special permission to know each other as family so that they too could be touched by His love. Think calmly, Quatre, Muhammad taught that Allah wished all people to be happy in their lives, and this was His way of ensuring peace and happiness for all."
It wasn't possible, it just wasn't! Allah was kind and wonderful, giving and understanding, but he had no place for people like him, for an evil child.
"You-you're pretty words don't change the message. Allah hates those that do not obey Him. Creating this false chapter in the hopes of easing your own suffering will only condemn you to the fires of Hell! Allah will punish you!"
Abdule shifted under the cold steel in Quatre's voice. "No Quatre, Allah loves all of His children. He created all of us. He would never have created you if you'd never stood a chance of knowing Him."
But Quatre refused to listen, couldn't afford to listen. "No, you're wrong! Allah had not part in my creation. I'm an abomination, all those created with the 'Homo' gene are! We're Satan's children, born evil to defile Allah's beauty! The lucky ones are killed at birth or sooner, those that live are condemned to never know peace, for that is what it means to be evil." His voice was low as he finished; the hated words of his "reprogrammer" floating past his memory.
"That isn't true, Quatre—"
"Isn't it!" He didn't remember screaming very much in his childhood. He'd always been taught that silence was a virtue, and when the pain from his "reprogramming" had become even more than he could bear, they'd often just beat him into unconsciousness to stop the screams. No fists or boots fell to silence him now. "Look at me! Everything that I am is an affront to Allah, everything! You're false book with its blasphemous chapter only serves to prove that! If what it said were true, then Allah would have made it so for all of His people, not just His army!"
This time Rashid tried.
"No one expects this to be easy for you to understand, Quatre. Most recruits take days even weeks to realize the truth right before their eyes. They have been taught the correct truth for Allah's people, but not for them, for Maguanacs.
"Long ago, men like us were thrown out of villages for seeking the company of other men. These men were cast to the four winds. But Allah found honest believers in them and rescued them, sending them to the Maguanacs. Our ancestors found them and took them in, taught them the true meaning behind their existences, as servants of Allah. That was the past, now in the present Allah cannot always direct them to us, so we've begun to hold Recruitments. The leader listens to the fathers, and takes in those boys who possess the three criteria of homosexuality, slavery, and age. That is what happened to you, Quatre. Master Habsaba listened to your father's words and found you met all of the requirements set down by Allah centuries ago. You are one of us, a Maguanac, a defender of Islam and her people."
Against his will he found that when Rashid spoke, his mind listened. Now as he thought over the things Rashid had said, he felt less convinced of his own convictions. Struggling against it, he searched his memory for anything he could use against this man. Finally he found the time-tested question.
"What proof do you have? How can you back up the claims you make?"
Rashid shook his head.
"Now it is you, Little Quatre, who asks Allah to prove Himself to you. But it is understandable, and I am sure Allah would approve of your honor to His teachings. You want proof of His teachings, and I will show it to you. Come with me."
Rashid stood, and Quatre felt his heart race. His anger fled him as fear took over, and the shaking continued as he took a hesitant step to follow. Abdule stood as well and proceeded Rashid out one of the doors on the left side of the room.
For a moment he was alone as he set the holy book on the table and approached the door knowing Rashid and Abdule were waiting on the other side for him. He took a breath, gathering his strength as best he could. He was no warrior, he didn't even know how to speak without fear. His body quaked with adrenaline as the blood pounded in his ears. He moved forward and tripped the sensors.
Just as he'd known they would be, Rashid and Abdule had waited for him and he noticed as he fell in line behind Rashid, Abdule opted to follow behind him, boxing him in as they walked down a brightly lit metal hallway.
This was the way Quatre remembered colonies looking. It was cold and sterile, inhospitable, and un-welcoming.
As he walked with determination, Abdule spoke up behind him.
"Rashid is the general over the two divisions of the Maguanacs. Zech's leads the warriors of the army, those such as assassins and thieves; while Treize directs the thinkers, strategists and technicians. But Rashid is leader over both of them. That's why he lives here, in the outskirts of the camps rather than in them; he is the Jihad's respected general." There was a dash of humor in Abdule's voice. "Treize and Zechs have rooms here and…here." He pointed to Quatre's left and right. "They prefer to live here rather than with the other men in the camps. These are all things you'll learn about soon, so don't sweat worrying about them."
Quatre was cold in returning Abdule's words.
"I don't intend to worry about it. I'll prove that you are all liars and then I'll be put to death, I assume."
Suddenly, Rashid spun around. His stunned and pained expression halting Quatre in his steps.
"Never! Just as Allah taught to be tolerant of others beliefs, we too will be tolerant of yours. You are one of us, even if you have not realized it yet. No one would hurt you any more than they would hurt anyone they considered family. As a Recruit you are like a child, Quatre, not expected to know what is correct or incorrect yet. Please, never believe I will allow any harm to come to you, ever!"
There was such pained conviction in Rashid's voice. Quatre felt the man's pain clearly, perhaps in the first clear reading of another's emotions in his life. There was nothing forced about the truth Rashid spoke, and Quatre again felt overwhelming fear that he might be wrong.
Not knowing what else to do, he nodded slowly, and after a long moment of thinking, Rashid turned to continue down the hallway.
He was so confused. A moment ago he'd been certain that Rashid was a liar, and that Allah would punish him for his blasphemy. But now, after hearing the way he'd just spoken, the feelings behind his speech, Quatre wasn't sure that was true. He didn't know, didn't understand, and that lack of knowledge ate at him as they continued.
Somewhere a few turns later, Abdule tried again.
"You might be interested to know that there is another Recruit this time around. His name is Trowa, and you'll most likely meet him in a few days. It was hard for me when I first got here because I was the only Recruit accepted, but with Trowa I'm sure you'll be able to talk and figure things out between the two of you. I didn't get a real good look at him, but some of the others were saying he's about your age, tall and skinny, he seems really quiet, but he might just have been scared. The people that brought him were terrible. I wasn't there of course, but I heard that they were just cruel. See Quatre, Trowa will be much happier here than with them, just like you'll be much happier here too. Try not to be afraid, and don't worry about being alone, you're with family now, and most of us know some of what you're going through."
He didn't comment, didn't have anything to say. He didn't want to know about this other boy, Trowa. He didn't care. All that mattered was finding the truth, everything else was of little consequence.
Rashid stopped by a door panel and entered a pass code before turning towards Quatre.
"This door has an access code that is triggered for the first year we have new Recruits. It's an old custom, but a custom none the less. Watch closely, this is the pass." Stunned, Quatre watched as the man gave him the information to make his escape should the need ever arise. As Quatre nodded his understanding of the code, he looked into Rashid's eyes and noticed that the man knew exactly what he'd given him. Again, Quatre felt that strange sensation of trusting him.
Suddenly the door opened and beyond the door Quatre saw something from storybooks and legends.
An immense room that seemed the length and depth of two football fields opened up before him. The architecture was incredible, as a high domed ceiling of glass was melded to marble columns and buttresses. Carvings detailed every stone on the walls and ceiling, and Quatre saw beautiful depictions of nature and humans, fantasy and dragons. It was awe inspiring in its craftsmanship and detail, and Quatre gazed at the painted frescos of the Garden of Eden. Around him were depictions of paradise, and Quatre soaked in the divine splendor of it all.
On the floor were more marble workings, with different colored stones marking the pathways as in the Great Hall. There were trees, beautiful trees that Quatre knew grew in warm climates, and indeed the temperature was warm, comfortable for him to be wearing loose cotton pants and a vest with nothing under neither. There was a light sweet smelling breeze and he felt his stomach rumble at the smell.
Fountains with stone carvings of unicorns and dragons were placed across the expanse in no order, while waist shallow pools surrounded them. Water poured forth in lavish displays, and some fountains boasted water that seemed to jump into the air, only to return to the pool to jump again.
Between the pools were large collections of pillows. Silks of all color lays stuffed and piled together. Roman settees lay about, while marble slabs acted as tables. The trees lined these fountains and pillows, offering shade from the simulated sun above them.
Far to his right, Quatre saw a mass of tents, where all colors of the rainbow existed, spaced far enough apart to give privacy. Some were large while others were small, some he could see the entrances to, while others were turned to face another path that ran behind.
But by far, the most compelling thing were the men. Dozens of men lounged around, some in the shade of the trees lying against pillows of silk, while still others lazily sat in the pools talking or simply existing. Some talked loudly and laughed with delight, while still others seemed quiet and introspective. Dress was sparse, and everywhere Quatre looked he wore more clothing than the rest.
It was like nothing he'd ever witnessed before, and it took his breath away. His satellite had not yet been finished when the workers had abandoned it twenty years before his father had taken him there. Half finished scaffoldings lined the interior, and he'd been hard pressed to find any beauty in the place at all. But this, this was infinitely more spectacular. He felt as if he'd stepped back in time, back to the day where man had not colonized space, and indeed had built nothing that ran on electricity at all. It was mystical to be gazing upon such wonders, and Quatre forgot himself and gave a silent prayer of thanks to Allah for allowing him to see such glory.
"It is beautiful, is it not?"
Quatre looked up at Rashid and met the man's eyes. Such kindness and knowing. Something deep inside Quatre began to ache. He offered no response and soon Rashid conceded his silence and continued onward.
His breath caught again when he realized they were walking through the center of this maze of fountains, pillows, and columns. He tried to keep his eyes on Rashid's back at all times, but as the conversations dies as they approached, he felt the intruding emotions of the men they walked by.
Being accustomed to deciphering his emotions alone, these added weights pushed upon him, pressing against his shields until he brought his hand unconsciously to his chest in pain. They were curious about him he thought. He couldn't pick out any specific emotions, but that was the feeling he got. There was no organized thought to kill him, or even hurt him, only curiosity, and perhaps a touch of sadness.
The walk seemed long to him, but he guessed that it couldn't have taken more than ten minutes before they approached a massive door of steel and gold.
Rashid turned and smiled kindly to him.
"Only one of us has ever seen the ka'aba in Mecca since most of us were born in the colonies. Likewise most of us will never pilgrimage to Mecca. While Aisha's chapter speaks nothing of this, Allah did say that if it were not possible to pilgrimage He would know and understand. Most of us believe that, that will be the case with us. To fill the…hole that leaves for us, this mosque has been built as our place for community worship. You will notice that it is cubed shaped like the ka'aba in Mecca, it is mostly symbolism for us."
That said, Rashid pulled on the doors and Quatre was surprised to see that they were not hydraulic like all standard doors in space colonies.
Inside was dark, as only candles lit the interior. A few individuals were kneeling in the corner of the room as they walked in but none of them looked up at their entrance. It was silent, and their footsteps echoed in a muffled way as they crossed the carpeted floor. On the walls were scripture texts and Quatre noticed immediately that they all came from Aisha's chapter.
In the center of the room was a large, near ceiling high, black stone cube. It glimmered in the firelight, and Quatre saw as he got closer that the stone was cut from some material that contained gold. It was smooth, and perfect, not a blemish or mark distorted the symmetry of it. They walked around it to the right, until they came upon the door that led into the interior of the cube. Tradition held that only the spiritual leader of the pilgrims in Mecca could enter the ka'aba, but as Rashid moved to the door and again manually pushed on it, Quatre reasoned this could not be so here. To his left, Abdule explained in a whispered tone.
"One of the hardest things for a military group of men is finding someone they can respect as an Imam or leader in the prayers. It is written nowhere either in the Qur'an or Aisha's chapter that Muslims must refrain from entering the ka'aba, and indeed there was no such thing in the prophet's lifetime. We respect each other by entering one at a time and consider this room a very spiritual place to go if one is lost. If you ever need somewhere to go, just to be with Allah in private, you can come here. If the inner sanctuary is occupied by anyone, they will extinguish that candle next to the doorway. You just have to re-light it when you leave."
Details he wasn't sure he needed but didn't want to forget. Abdule seemed a calming spirit and yet Quatre felt a strange sense of holding back from the man, as if he were not entirely acting himself. He chose to ignore his feelings for the time being. Now was the time for answers.
Rashid stood next to the opening.
"You must enter alone, Quatre. We will be waiting for you. You will find the answers to your proof inside. Do not close yourself off to Allah and He will make the truth known to you." He spoke with such wisdom and conviction, and Quatre guessed that even if Aisha's chapter was false, Rashid did not know it.
Nodding to both Rashid and himself, Quatre stepped closer to the doorway. It was dark inside, lit by only one candle that was far away from the door. He couldn't see very well, and so with a deep breath he pushed his feet to step over the threshold. His second step carried him past the doorway and he heard the door pushed back into place by the hands of a giant.
It was cold inside and Quatre felt an immediate fear of being boxed into this stone coffin before he shook himself free from that half-formed vision. Slowly he made his way towards the single lit candle. He noted absently the candle was burning with aid from a Gundamium alloy byproduct which burned without any residue but cost a fortune. His eyes burned from the shift in light to dark and back again.
When his eyes adjusted, he looked next to the candle to find a very strange set of documents. Laid out across the expanse of the wall was a glass case, which was easily opened with the push of the release button. Inside the case however was an odd assortment of objects.
On the far left were fragments of cloth, followed by animal bones, leaves, and finally a strange looking paper. On all of these objects were faint but legible Arabic writings. The writings were in a miss-match of colored inks and obvious handwriting differences. Some letters were elegant, and some looked as if a child had written them. The bones had the writings carved into them, while the leaves and paper continued with the inks.
His heart beat wildly as he looked upon the objects, refusing to read the words written on them. His breathing increased and soon he was gasping for air in quick unproductive gulps that left him dizzy and weak. His body shook, and as his emotions raced, Quatre grabbed at his heart to hold the aching pain in.
Slowly, he turned back towards the doorway. It was dark and he could not see the outline of the door from this distance. Some part of his mind knew that the moment he turned back to face the objects his life would be forever changed. He knew if he turned around, he'd never be Quatre Winner again, only Quatre of the Maguanacs.
Fifteen years of teachings swam through his memory, as he thought of all the painful suffering he'd endured to be where he was right now. His life was one constant torture after another, and he'd been alone for so long, lost for so long. Could he find salvation? Had it found him? Could he have feared Allah's wrath without merit? Was it all pointless if he turned around now and read the words on the objects there? And if it was so, if everything Rashid had said and everything Aisha's chapter spoke about were true, could he ever forgive Allah for making him hurt as he had? There was only one painful way to know.
With the hesitancy of a man walking to his death, Quatre turned and carried the single flame until it illuminated the words on the first piece of cloth. The title read simply:
"Aisha's Visit to the Gardens"
And there it was. Written nearly two thousand years ago, the words of the prophet Aisha, beloved wife of Muhammad, prophet of Islam. His knees grew too weak to support him and he carelessly slid to the ground beneath him.
He was no fool, forgeries were common in all religions, including Islam. But there was something here, a…presence that seemed to float about the objects. It spoke softly to him, whispering words he could not hear or understand.
As an empath, he'd been both blessed and cursed with the ability to sense emotions from people. In the case of something very old or cherished, he sometimes caught lingering glimpses of the emotions once felt in the objects existence. This was no different, and as Quatre stared blankly into nothing, he felt the emotions of those objects flow over his senses, touching a part of him he couldn't remember ever having been touched before, hope.
Images were not in the range of his abilities, but he felt his heart swell with emotions of acceptance and faith. The release of fear was overpowering, and he realized that many had knelt where he was now, knelt and given thanks that Allah had not forsaken them after all. He felt joy at not being alone, happiness at having a family now, and acceptance of Allah's will.
Then, in a moment of strange crystal clarity, he felt Aisha, as she had felt two thousand years before retelling her tale of the angel's visit and Allah's words of salvation. She had been awed, with a feeling of having been filled by the teachings of Allah herself. Happiness seemed to cascade over him, and somehow he knew it was her happiness at seeing those first one hundred men accepted by Allah. A great sadness was also there, as she'd thought about her dead husband, and prayed that Allah kept him safe as he waited with the rest of humanity for the Day of Judgment. And wonder, would others be saved by these new laws one day? Would someone look at these objects and think of her as she was right that moment?
He gasped, reeling back as he was thrown out of his trance like state. He didn't need days or weeks to realize this chapter was real, he felt it on a level few could boast. It seeped into his veins, flowing through him like blood and water. It was all true, not a word misspoken. Everything was different now.
He was Quatre of the Maguanacs, Recruit to Rashid of the Maguanacs. He was Allah's servant, defender of Islam and those that could not defend themselves. He was the protector of families and worshiper of the one true God. He was who he was, just as Allah is who He is.
He didn't need to read the text on the objects, he knew it all by heart now, the words burned into his brain as he'd felt Aisha's emotions. Every word, every detail of the script was now memory to him, and if he closed his eyes he could see it as if they were open and in the hot sun of Arabia.
Standing slowly, Quatre took the candle and placed it back in its place. Without a look back towards the objects of his salvation, Quatre moved forward, into the darkness to be reborn into the light.
Rashid opened the door at his knock.
Stepping into the brightly lit in comparison room of the mosque, he moved as if possessed, stepping past Rashid's questioning look and beyond Abdule's concerned expression; around the right side of the black cube, until he was standing directly in front of it.
His eyes failed to see that the entire Jihad army was now present, standing in lines that faced the giant symbol of their faith. Quatre did not see them, nor would he have cared if he had; his journey was his own. He passed Master Habsaba as he stood in front of the men, all watching Quatre as he moved without consideration or care.
In the end, he stood in front of the great monument, Rashid and Abdule next to Habsaba, concerned expressions on all the faces in the mosque. Quatre's mind raced with everything he now knew, now understood on a level so much deeper than mind, it touched his soul. With empty eyes he looked up to the top of the black stone construct, before following a straight line back down to where it touched the ground.
It was silent. And for a moment, in that silence Quatre stood, staring at the center of the ka'aba. Until finally, the silence was shattered.
Wails of pure suffering, terror, pain, and horror issued from his lips. From his lungs and body came the agony of a lifetime spent in fear and abandonment. His loneliness fell from him in great sobs that shook his body until he could no longer stand. The rage of his father wavered his voice as he called out the ninety-nine names of God in Arabic, name after name falling in a rush between sobs. The silence of his mind fell away as his fingernails bit into the palms of his hands as he clenched his fingers, drawing blood that fell upon his clothes. Tears falling from his eyes, washing away the hurts and aches of his weary bones.
And then, right before Rashid's racing form caught him up and took him into his protecting arms, Quatre screamed for the death of the boy who he'd been, and screamed for the man that he was now to become. Death and life, both directed by Allah and Allah alone.
At the first touch of Rashid's person to his own, Quatre surcame to the emotional exhaustion encompassing him, letting the darkness of death enclose him, knowing, Allah had granted him true life, and all he needed to do was open his eyes to finally begin to live.