A collaborative effort in creative writing.
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A collaborative effort in creative writing. |
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February 2001 Collaboration Jayne of Periphery The Deadline It was hot in the car. Rashid adjusted the air conditioning controls on the dashboard of the Mercedes and cooler air started to waft across his face and around his ankles in welcoming drifts. Cairo in June was already becoming uncomfortably hot and his thoughts started to turn to the coming weeks which would be spent, as usual, in the cooler climate of Alexandria. His house there had large picture windows overlooking the Mediterranean which were permanently left open to allow the breezes off the ocean to pervade the entire house. Summers for the last 20 years had always been enjoyed in this way, but now he welcomed the break even more as an opportunity to catch up on reading, research and indulge his consuming passion for writing. Professor Rashid Kareem was a professional of some standing. His middle class parents had worked hard to ensure that he receive the finest education money could buy and he had made the most of the opportunities presented to him in life. By his mid twenties he had studied Hebrew, Syriac, Ethiopic, Arabic, Persian, Sanskrit and Coptic. His studies in the field of ancient Egyptology had led to a successful curatorship at Cairo's Museum of Ancient History and the highlight of his career so far had undoubtedly been the discovery of a second burial chamber at Giza's Ram-al-Rah pyramid. The world had feted the brilliant mind that had managed to decipher the codes left by his Egyptian predecessors, and mankind's knowledge of the Pharaohs had, in that one discovery, increased tenfold. Now much of his time was spent in travel across the globe, giving lectures on all the knowledge gained during a lifetime of work. His mind was reeling as the car made its way through the dusty streets of Cairo and he was so occupied in thought that he nearly hit the car in front as it braked suddenly. The leather bound folder on the seat beside him fell into the footwell, spilling its contents across the floor. The papers, now so carelessly scattered, could be of huge significance to the world of archaeology. The Professor's research suggested that the Great Pyramid at Khufu may yet yield more secrets. Theories abounded of an, as yet, undiscovered ascension chamber, and Rashid was confident that he finally held the key to the mystery. If he was proved right then the discoveries of Tutankhamun's tomb would pale into insignificance compared to what might lie in the secret room at Khufu. It wasn't pyramids that occupied his mind at the moment however, and the papers remained languishing in the footwell. He was mulling over the very same problem that had so haunted him both day and night for the past two weeks. He had been set a challenge, and a crucial deadline - yet so far the solution to the problem eluded him. The more he thought about it, the more the thoughts became jumbled and the more he fell into a blind sense of panic. He wasn't accustomed to failure. As he made his way through Cairo's business district the problem on his mind made him frown and, despite the air conditioning, the skin under his white beard started to prickle with perspiration. Completely distracted, he barely noticed the scenery around him change from bleak, hot concrete to the dappled shade of Giza's luxury residential area. Here the wealthy of Cairo retreated at the end of the day behind security gates and high hedges into mansions of marbled splendour. Rashid's successful career had afforded him the luxury of a home in this most sought after district and he smiled in a self-satisfied way when he saw the tall, iron gates of his property just ahead. His good looks, high profile career and suitably grand address meant that invitations to social functions abounded - yet ironically he still preferred his own company, in his own home, reading, writing and surfing the world wide web. That was a new passion - the ability to communicate with others instantaneously across the globe. Ideas and thoughts could be shared and it was pleasing to find that friendships had been forged with people who held similar interests and hobbies. He stopped the Mercedes outside the house, waiting for the school bus to pass by and glanced absentmindedly at the well dressed Giza residents slowly ambling along the pavements of the leafy street. In the sky above, the clouds had thickened and sudden fat drops of rain began to splash on the bonnet of the car. Rashid glanced down at his watch - it was already 6 o'clock. His heart began to pound. It was less than 24 hours to go until the deadline. He must begin work immediately. Outside the house he jumbled the papers together in their leather folder and quickly jumped out of the car. That all important deadline was stuck in his head - if only time wasn't against him now. It should be so easy, he knew it - it was a gut feeling. Yet still those thoughts wouldn't unravel. Perhaps it would help if he read the message just one more time. Dumping the folder on the edge of the desk, he clicked the mouse to connect the computer to the internet and waited for the page to unfold in front of him. He sat, concentrating on the words that had so troubled him in recent times - the task that seemed so insurmountable for one of his superior intellect. The message read thus: Provide a background, incorporate into a story, or fill out the following character sketch: "An older gentleman is sitting at a bus stop. He is dressed in quality clothing, with a middle eastern feel to them. He is bronze, with tight hair and a beard startlingly white against his skin. On his lap he holds a leather bound folder, tied together with a thong, containing thick, pulpy paper. He stares ahead, but occasionally allows his eyes to follow passing cars or pedestrians. The sky overhead, dark with clouds, begins to release fat drops as the bus approaches. The man lifts his face to the sky, and grips the folder tightly in strong, sinewy hands." The cursor on screen seemed to blink back at him mockingly. |