Sweat. The rotation and spiral of the entire universe, twisting and preceding itself through extended lines of lights. Drowning. Sounds in all directions, blending into each other and choosing a path other than this one. Melting. Delirium. Illness. noise. death. life. rebirth. Hello.
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Among the many offices, many sounds bounced around, from fingers clicking on computer keys, the typing machine swallowing a stack of papers and spitting them out, the sound of very important phone calls, the sound of nearby chats that lack any importance and are devoided of any meaning, the sound of security cameras changing their direction to identify a passersby in their surroundings, the sound of the wooden door unlocking automatically and its iron hinges rubbing against each other after being opened, the sound of the double glass door opening and closing by itself depending on the presence of someone in front of it, the sound of the screen lights that are drawn on the faces of employees, the sound of the electric current running through the copper wires under the desks and inside the screens, behind the walls and underground, inside the bags or in the pockets of the clothes, and at other times curled up in infinitely small sizes near someone's eardrum, whispering to him what he wants.
Anas curled up and straightened his back next, then pressed one of the buttons arranged under his desk, and an electrical signal went off, causing his computer screen to shut down. Then he sat up, brushed off some exhaustion that rested on his eyelids, and wiped his entire face. The eyes of the person whose desk was next to his met his, who was in the middle of a phone call that seemed both fun and troublesome, but the importance of which was difficult to grasp. Anas somehow pointed his chin toward the glass door, and the other raised his hand and waved it goodbye and returned to looking at his computer screen and clicking on his mouse as if occupied. Anas then picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, finding his way around the square of desks crowded together, through voices and sounds of which closeness to humanity he couldn't quite guess. Who knows? Perhaps every voice had been recorded, saved, and then replayed over days and days without anyone noticing.
His right hand rested on some kind of touch screen when he reached the glass door. Another screen lit up, of which nothing else could be seen. From one of its corners, a tiny lens emerged that might not be seen by anyone who hadn't stopped to examine it carefully and cautiously. An image of Anas's face appeared, and a green light glowed accordingly, along with a digital sequence and a clock to measure and record the time. As a result, the wooden door was unlocked, and Anas made his way to the lobby after wiping his palm on his shirt, then to a number of elevators positioned at an intersection of different routes. He pressed the button, then paced around while waiting for quite a bit, then pretended he was busy looking through the glass window when the place started to get crowded. When the elevator arrived he picked his phone and put it next to his ear, and as the place got less and less crowded the elevator finally took off, so Anas lowered his hand let out a long sigh as he was hearing a loud sound of steps probably belonging to several people, so he decided to take the emergency exist.
In a café by the window he chose in previous times, he sat and wondered what he might order. He did not, in truth, care about the taste or appearance of what would be offered to him, and perhaps the only priority, however small in his mind, was the value of what he might spend on it. When the spiritual value of all things is stripped away, the material and financial value remain to be taken into account at the end of the day. But after a few seconds of thought, he chose to resort to a cup of black coffee. Who knows? Perhaps by doing so, he was declaring to the entire gathering in the café his neutrality regarding all things. However, it must be said that in glorifying poverty, there is a kind of spiritual ritual to some extent. By sacrificing all pleasures, and here perhaps with sugar itself, as an expression that everything that pleases the body without any real benefit, and here perhaps it might be nutritional, is offered by something and hidden inside its liver, he may proceed without all things throughout the rest of his life. By entering the cycle of choice, we stumble and forget our ability to escape from all this and stand like a statue with no inclinations to adopt towards anything. This was Anas's state in the face of all matters, and if there hadn't been caffeine snuck into his coffee by chance, he might have sat like a homeless on the side of the street, without removing his hat from his head to catch any coins that might fall into it.
His phone alarm rang, announcing the time to meet his two friends. They had all agreed to come to the same café at around five and a half in the afternoon. Anas sat up straight and stared at the sky without any racing thoughts, as if the entire universe had stopped as it was, only quiet, and lots and lots of quiet.
One of his two friends appeared from the end of the empty road and began stamping his feet, intending to hurry up but not to run. This was Rayan alone, and no one else was with him, perhaps for the first time in a long time. A vein appeared between his eyebrows as if it were a fuse igniting his head with anger. This prevented his sight and awareness from seeing the desired location, so he began to spin around himself in an attempt, with varying degrees of precision and focus, to uncover the desired address.
Anas watched all of this without a reaction that might stem from mockery or other matters. He waited patiently until his friend was lucky enough to find him, and their eyes met through the glass wall of the café. Rayan entered recklessly as if he didn't see what was going on around him until he bumped into Anas's table, and threw both hands on it as if he was determined to bury it forcefully into the ground. Anas then noticed his friend's mind wandering as if he was looking at everything that dared to move in the café without actually seeing it, so he gave up on following what he was looking at with his eyes and closed them, then nodded his head twice, declaring his full attention on what would be said to him afterwards.
However, Rayan did not utter a single word. He grabbed Anas's arm and dragged him out of the café, and he continued doing so when he saw no real resistance from Anas. Who knows? Perhaps resistance in itself would have been useless against his friend now and he would pull out a knife to lead him by force with his mind seemingly not in the right placegot, so Anas surrendered to the whole thing.
The two of them ended up in front of a modest apartment, which Anas recognized as the apartment of their absent friend. Rayan wiped his face, pressed his palm tightly to his lips, and then held his head and turned around as if a sudden headache had struck him at that moment. Anas waited for all of this patiently, or rather, more absentminded than not. When Rayan came back to his senses a bit, he went for the door tightening his grip on the doorknob until he turned and opened it without needing to unlock it. The door creaked loudly, blinding Anas, and a mixed smell of rotting things raced to his nose until all his senses were blinded.
A moment of silence. Perhaps the sounds had disappeared from the entire universe. Rayan began to dance in Anas's eyes, turning in circles, or perhaps Anas's head was spinning in place, and his gaze was dancing everywhere. Confused by nausea and a repulsive desire to vomit and empty everything inside his stomach. Rayan looked at Anas, his face turning yellow with fear, or perhaps his stomach acid rose up and mingled between his features.
"I found him like this..." Rayan said with a look that suggested something of a plea, so Anas looked away on the spot. For a moment, then several minutes. Perhaps he was dreaming, perhaps he was thinking, but he relaxed his jaw and finally allowed his tongue to move. "I have work tomorrow." Then he turned his back and calmly descended the stairs
A quick glance that lacked any focus and then preoccupation with unclear matters and issues after the balance of time has been disturbed. The basic motive for killing determination and action is the lack of benefit and result. Everything is the same whether you do something or refrain from it. From here, anger towards the world creeps in, the instinct to escape, the controlling desire for isolation and detachment, and stinginess in offering oneself and wasting it on other opportunities in relation to the entire universe. In such critical moments when it was necessary to discover the path, express inclinations towards a certain choice, and combine thought with determination and link them in a single bundle to reach a decision, Anas pretended that there was no decision to be made and chosen. And at other times when he's asked about the same dilemma again, he might pretend to hear the issue for the first time in his life, to quickly turn and run around in circles until the questioner gets tired of questioning him. Thus, he's simply expressing that there was no mercy in his heart, or as if any spark of care might ignite his heart without knowing what to do with it.
He crossed the streets, overcome by some dizziness and nausea, as time raced on and on until he did not even notice how long he had been in bed, as if time had jumped through all other spaces until his feet landed in the middle of his dreams. Anas closed his eyes, surrendering to sleep without wondering about anything.