The Queue Read online

  No one knew what had started the Second Events, but on the first day of the fighting, Amani, who crossed the square nearly every day on her way to work, had seen people trying to sneak through the Restricted Zone. They were trying to reach a street that had long been closed off with iron barricades and was now a desolate stretch of land leading to the back of the Northern Building. No one was allowed there, and not even stray animals dared wander close. No signs or warnings were posted, but they wouldn’t have been necessary. The street was surrounded by a colossal stone wall with no windows, impenetrable and impossible to scale, and which concealed the street and everything on it from passersby.

  No one had been permitted to walk through the Restricted Zone for a long time, except for those carrying the Gate’s violet ID card. Even so, people knew what was there, particularly the elderly, who’d known it before these changes. They said that the crimson Northern Building had been built over the street itself, or at least over half of it. The barricaded street led to a short tunnel, which passed under the Northern Building and came out the other side, somewhere near the Booth. One day, as she was about to leave the square, Amani heard things falling behind her, and the muffled sounds they made as their weight hit the ground, but she didn’t turn around to see what they were. Suddenly, she sensed that the situation was more perilous than she had imagined, that things were about to explode, and she began to run to get away from the square, wanting to run away from everything, all of it.

  The Events didn’t deter Um Mabrouk from starting a little venture to help herself bear the cost of waiting in the queue, or at least offset the income she lost by no longer working in people’s homes. Before, not a day would go by without one of the women she worked for giving her secondhand things for free; she came first in their eyes and was more deserving than strangers. She accepted them all, fixing things up into something she needed, but here in the queue, no one gave anything away. With her wide body and broad shoulders, she took up more space than most people in the queue, and she used this advantage as a starting point for her venture. She befriended a few drivers and asked them to bring her packages of tea, coffee, sugar, and powdered milk, which they delivered periodically and she paid for at the end of the week. She brought an old gas burner from home and bought cheap white plastic cups from a big chain store, which had opened several branches in her district overnight, and never seemed to close, not even during the Events.

  When she returned from her work at Amani’s office in the mornings, she would assume her position in front of the gas burner and provide drinks for the people around her. Her circle of customers quickly expanded. The coffee shop was closed and Hammoud had vanished, so she began to serve many people, veterans of the queue and newcomers alike. She considered Ehab one of her most important customers, because every day he invited someone around for a cup of tea. The same went for Ines, who—since she was very methodical when it came to work—was used to drinking three cups of tea during the day: one during the first lesson, another during her break, and a last cup at night. They were soon joined by the man in the galabeya, who was constantly ordering new types of drinks, like anise tea, or cinnamon tea with ginger. Then Um Mabrouk added another service to the list. She let people use her phone at a discount price: they could call their loved ones for just half of what they would pay on their own phones or outside the queue. Before long, she was able to buy Mabrouk a new backpack for school, and then she gave him a bit of money to give to his sister. Her daughter still hadn’t been able to find a job, even after she’d diligently attached her heath certificates and all other necessary supporting documents to her applications.

  Um Mabrouk’s venture was going better than she’d ever expected until life in the queue was disrupted by the clashes in the square. As the fighting peaked, the queue was stormed by a few of the “meddlesome riffraff,” as Um Mabrouk had begun to call the protesters, a name soon adopted by others in the queue. The Riffraff cut part of the queue off and held hundreds of people captive behind barriers, which, she suspected, they had constructed out of the garbage and rubble that had piled up in the area. The people at the front of the queue finally glimpsed the Deterrence Force, which was meant to protect the Gate. The guards appeared, new shields in hand, and spread along the outer wall, but they didn’t intervene.

  When the people behind the barriers started to suspect that the Riffraff were trying to delay the opening of the Gate, they began to resent them—especially because there were rumors that the Gate’s preparations had ended and it would soon open again. All sorts of evidence against the Riffraff began to appear, implicating them in a panoply of disgraceful acts. Accusations were broadcast all across the media, and serious allegations emerged that they were anti-Gate, followed by claims that they were trying divide and disperse the queue. Hearing this, the people behind the barriers rose up against the Riffraff, accusing them of behavior that was childish, frivolous, and irresponsible, and demanding that they leave immediately.

  The Riffraff defended themselves fiercely, arguing that months had passed without the slightest change. People should unite and forget the Gate, they said, but they couldn’t offer any convincing alternatives, so everyone in the queue—those behind the barriers and the rest—refused to give up hope. No one was ready to leave without receiving the resolution they had come for. Life in the queue had been relatively orderly and stable before the Riffraff’s arrival; there were recognized rules and limits, which everyone accepted and everyone followed.

  The one person who didn’t join in this consensus was Nagy. He didn’t tell anyone in the queue except Yehya what was on his mind. He wondered what made people so attached to their new lives of spinning in orbit around the queue, unable to venture beyond it. People hadn’t been idiots before they came to the Gate with their paperwork. There were women and men, young and old people, professionals and the working class. No section of society was missing, even the poorest of the poor were there, not separated from the rich by any means. Everyone was on equal ground. But they all had the same look about them, the same lethargy. Now they were even all starting to think the same way.

  He had expected there to be exceptions, that someone among them would come out in support of the Riffraff, or even sympathize with their call to resist this absurd and ceaseless situation—but no one did. The queue was like a magnet. It drew people toward it, then held them captive as individuals and in their little groups, and it stripped them of everything, even the sense that their previous lives had been stolen from them. He, too, had been affected—he knew it in his heart. Otherwise, he would have still had his rebellious streak, and would have told everyone in the queue to advance, promising them that if everyone took just a single step, that single step alone could destroy the Gate’s walls and shake off this stagnation. But the queue’s magnet held him captive. Maybe he’d convinced himself that he was helping Yehya by staying in the queue, but the truth was he couldn’t leave it; his body came and went, but his will was trapped here.

  Everything ground to a halt. Daily life in the queue couldn’t go on as normal, and it hurt people making a living there, including Um Mabrouk, who was forced to pack up her things and stop boiling water and rinsing out the cups she recycled, out of fear she would be attacked. Like many others, she’d received a threat from the Riffraff—though she wasn’t sure she understood it completely—accusing her of helping to maintain the status quo, and even profiting from it.

  Things soon reached a breaking point; there were negotiations and skirmishes, and the man in the galabeya set up prayers for those behind the barriers. People waiting in the queue began to offer compromises to the Riffraff: if the Gate didn’t open within a month, they would sign a cessation of hostilities themselves, or would produce a written contract stipulating that everyone who had been in the queue for more than three months, including time spent away, would leave immediately. But none of these attempts to appease the Riffraff succeeded.

  Then one day, they mysteriously withdrew. Pe
ople simply woke up one morning and realized that the Riffraff were gone. They learned that the people behind the barriers had formed pacts and plans against the Riffraff, together with the microbus drivers, who had sensed impending danger when driving to and from the queue became forbidden. When the Riffraff realized that they would inevitably be driven away, they had rounded themselves up and departed in the night without a word.

  The crisis had ended, but it left its mark on everyone in the queue, particularly on those who had received direct threats. It had been a waste of precious time for Um Mabrouk, yet more than that, it had restored her belief that misfortune followed her wherever she went. The drivers returned, supplying the queue with all the news they heard, but it was vague and infrequent. The warring parties had disappeared, but their effects lingered. The ambulance sirens could still be heard, but there were fewer and fewer of them, until finally peace prevailed, and then people learned just how many were injured and how badly.

  Ehab stopped by nearly every day and Yehya began to check in with him, asking about the latest information he’d heard, but it wasn’t of any use. The newspaper had no more news than anyone else; nothing—no statistics, no official messages—had been announced at all. The number of microbuses arriving at the corner dwindled, too. When none arrived for a few days, people realized that the gas stations were closed again and that all diesel fuel had been redirected to the arduous cleaning efforts. Scores of bulldozers arrived to clear the debris. They drove past the metal hut on the road to the queue, and some scraped it as they went by. But the soldier inside didn’t reprimand them or even record their number plates. They worked in shifts for days on end, and then at different times at night for weeks, working without pause, lifting rocks and other debris, fallen tree trunks, and even trees still growing in the ground. Sometimes in the dark they picked up people sleeping, by mistake, but the people were always returned the following day, without having suffered significant harm.

  A long time passed, and the Events had nearly faded into memory, when one morning the Gate broadcast a public message, declaring that the square was secure again and open to pedestrians. The Disgraceful Events were over, it said, never to return again, and it urged citizens not to be misled by what they had seen, no matter how confident they were in the accuracy of their vision. The broadcast also contained an important announcement: it was shutting down all radiology wards in hospitals, public clinics, and private clinics, confiscating all their equipment and taking it to Zephyr Hospital, which was a subsidiary of the Gate. The Gate had decided to embark on this path of comprehensive reform, the broadcast explained, in the interest of citizens’ physical and psychological well-being. It had conducted follow-ups with patients across the nation, and determined that many of these devices gave false and inaccurate results and printed grainy or misleading images. These devices were being used with no consideration of medical or ethical principles, and any ward or clinic found to be in possession of such would be held accountable and punished accordingly. The message also called for anyone with an X-ray or medical test result of any kind to present it to the Booth immediately, so that it could be inspected and verified, and added that no fees would be collected for this complimentary service.

  The announcement was delivered to the newspaper headquarters where Ehab worked, and he immediately called Nagy to tell him. Yehya headed straight for Um Mabrouk in shock, and dialed Tarek’s number again and again. If the message were true, as everyone said, it meant he couldn’t have an X-ray performed anywhere anymore, not even if he called in favors or tried to get one done under the table. When Tarek finally picked up, he didn’t reveal anything on the phone, but he seemed more interested in Yehya than usual. He asked in detail about Yehya’s movements, whether the pain was any less intense, if it was a stabbing pain or a throbbing pain. He asked how often Yehya urinated and what color it was, and he also asked about Amani. But Tarek’s attention was useless to Yehya, who inferred just one thing: the head nurse still hadn’t returned. She must have the X-rays, and Tarek was hiding the reason why she had left.

  Um Mabrouk offered to waive the fee for his call and turned down Yehya’s money out of sympathy for his injury. “The world is against you, you want me against you, too? Ya ibni, things are bad enough as it is.” He left her, feeling like his head was about to explode. His memories rushed back to him and then faded away, leaving him in a tangle of conflicting emotions. He was filled with despair and a desire to hide away, but at the same time was infused with a yearning to survive, to start life anew and experience again every moment of sadness and joy and absurdity. He wasn’t in the mood to argue with Um Mabrouk, but he also knew she didn’t pay for the calls she made. Um Mabrouk had won a phone line and endless credit from Violet Telecom, just like so many others had.

  Yehya had been on edge as he listened to Tarek’s voice on the other end of the line. As soon as he ended the call he excused himself and left the queue, not heading anywhere in particular. He wandered around, taking in the whole scene from a distance. He knew he needed to see Tarek in private.

  He returned a few hours later, cheerfully raising his fingers in a V when he saw Nagy. With a few niceties and a little flirting, he’d won Sabah over and learned that the head nurse had taken a long leave without pay. She’d turned in her notice, gathered her things, and gone to take care of some personal matters, staunchly refusing to discuss this sudden decision with anyone in the hospital. She’d been extremely secretive, concealing her decision until the day she left, and no one had been able to find out what had come over her, despite numerous attempts by her close friends and colleagues. Sabah also told him that she’d uncovered part of the secret herself. She’d learned that the hospital was considering hiring a new head nurse while the director thoroughly investigated the situation, which was this: a week ago, or perhaps more, the head nurse had joined the queue for the Gate.

  MRS. ALFAT

  Things soon returned to normal in the queue, and daily life picked up where it had left off. It was a charge led by Um Mabrouk, who got rid of her old cheap cups and bought nicer glass ones in celebration of the Riffraff’s departure. She wiped her palms and the backs of her hands on her dress, and handed the man in the galabeya a cup of anise tea with two tea bags instead of just one, adding, “Lord grant you good health.” He muttered a few words as he took the first sip, oblivious to her smile, but she persisted. “Don’t you have a prayer, or something to say for heath and better days ahead, ya Hag?” she asked. He didn’t indicate whether he had heard her, or if he had, whether he would respond, and didn’t lift his gaze from the cup. Her smile faltered and she backed off, embarrassed, saying, “Ah, maybe you didn’t hear me … don’t worry, take your time.” He finished the last drop of anise tea, quickly glanced at her from the corner of his eye, and wiped his beard, staring at the simple setup around her. He took out his prayer beads and advised her, while thumbing one golden bead after another, to come to the lessons he gave at the front of the queue. Many of the righteous attended these weekly lessons, and some even came from beyond the queue. “Early next week,” he said. “It would do you good to come, by the will of God Almighty.”

  Yehya began his search for the head nurse, but the queue was so vast that he couldn’t easily scan the crowds for her. He managed to search a small area, but it was just a drop in a bucket, while the queue was fathoms deep. He reasoned that he shouldn’t limit his search to the end of the queue; he didn’t think she would feel bound to the order of arrival and stay at the end. Besides, he knew that people often and easily switched places—he himself had skipped ahead of so many, and some people who arrived just a few weeks ago were now at the front, each thanks to his or her own methods or bargaining abilities. So he and Nagy agreed to divide the queue between them, setting forth from the same point and walking in opposite directions.

  He had to stop and ask about her out loud every few feet; there was no other way to go about it. The only picture they had of her was the one in Nagy’s mind
—the last time he’d been to the hospital, Sabah had led him to the nurses’ office and proudly pointed to a large frame filled with photographs of the doctors, nurses, and other hospital staff. She’d stepped close to the frame, stuck her finger on the neck of a middle-aged woman, and pointed her out: “Mrs. Alfat, the head nurse, and me standing next to her.” The people in the queue weren’t surprised by Yehya’s question; they were used to people asking for one another, and to hearing helpful strangers pointing them in the right direction. Sometimes photographs were distributed, of adults and children alike, lost amid the crowds of the queue. It happened at mealtimes especially, when news and rumors dwindled, the general sense of apprehension faded, and everyone’s attention turned to the person sharing food with them. Yehya met two nurses in his search, a technician and an eye doctor with her younger sister, but neither of them was Mrs. Alfat, and not a single person claimed to know her. Um Mabrouk volunteered to ask her customers, and instructed them to ask others in turn, explaining, “The head nurse is a real big shot, a distant relative of Yehya’s.”

  Yehya and Nagy met back at their starting point having had no success. They were exhausted and convinced it would be impossible to keep searching without a thread to grasp at. At this rate, it would take nearly two months. They sat down to brainstorm a way to save time; they’d lost so much already. Nagy suggested that they ask for Ehab’s help, but Yehya rejected the idea outright. He wanted to keep the matter within the tightest circle possible. But then he remembered that this irksome journalist, who had offered them his friendship from the start, by pestering him relentlessly, had already learned a great deal about him. It was information that Nagy had disclosed with the best of intentions, but it meant that his situation was no longer a secret. Ehab already knew everything. And despite Yehya’s reservations, he couldn’t deny that Ehab and his fellow journalists had proven methods, when it came to investigating, that might help lead them to their goal: the whereabouts of the head nurse.