Karnak Café by Naguib Mahfouz

or power—both are equally valid.
    â€œSo I surrendered myself to the fates and decided to allow the very devil himself to come if that was indeed what destiny had determined was to be my lot, or even death if it came to that. I stopped posing myself questions for which there were no answers, but made up my mind to take the lead from the way influenza behaves, countering antibiotics by creating whole new generations of bacteria that are resistant to medicine.”
    â€œDid you stay on your feet for a long time?” I asked.
    â€œWhen the strain of it all really got to me,” he said, “I squatted and then sat cross-legged on the floor. I slept as much as I could. Can you imagine? When I woke up, I remembered where I was. I realized that I had completely lost all sense of time. What time was it when I had fallen asleep? Was it daytime or night now? I felt my chin and decided to use its growth as a very inaccurate timepiece.”
    â€œDid they leave you there for long?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œHow about food?”
    â€œThe door used to open, and a tray would be pushed inside with some cheese on it, or else something salty with bread.”
    â€œWhat about the toilet?”
    â€œAt a specific time each day, the door would open again, and a giant man the size of a circus wrestler would call me outside and take me to the latrine at the end of the corridor. As I followed him, I would have to keep my eyes almost closed because the light was so bright. I had hardly closedthe door behind me before he would start yelling, ‘Get a move on, you son of a bitch! Do you think you can stay in there all day, you bastard?’ I’ll leave you to imagine how I was managing inside.”
    â€œHave you any idea how long you were there?”
    â€œGod alone knows. My beard grew so long, I couldn’t tell any more.”
    â€œBut they cross-examined you, for sure?”
    â€œOh yes,” he replied with a frown. “There came the day when I found myself standing in front of Khalid Safwan.”
    For a moment he was silent, his eyes narrowing with the sheer emotion aroused by the memory. Inevitably I now felt myself being drawn into the intense feelings he was experiencing.
    â€œThere I stood in front of his desk, barefoot and wearing only a shoddy nightshirt. My nerves were completely shot. Behind me stood one person, or maybe more. I was not allowed to look either right or left, let alone behind me. For that reason I couldn’t tell where I was and had to stare blearily straight at him. Whatever vestiges of my humanity may have been left at this point dissolved in an all-encompassing sense of terror.”
    For just a moment his expression was etched with suppressed anger. “In spite of everything that happened,” he went on, “his image is indelibly recorded deep inside me. Of medium height, he had a large, elongated face with bushy eyebrows that pointed upwards. He had big, sunken eyes and a broad, prominent forehead. His jaw was strong, but he managed to keep his expression totally neutral. I can vividly recall all those details. Even so, I was feeling so utterly desperate that I managed to create an illusion of hope for myself concerning his role.
    â€œÂ â€˜Thank God!’ I said. ‘At last, I find myself standing before someone with authority.’
    â€œA sharp cuff from behind cut me off, and I let out a groan of pain.
    â€œÂ â€˜Only speak when you’re asked a question,’ he said.
    â€œHe proceeded to ask me for my name, age, and profession, all of which I answered.
    â€œÂ â€˜When did you join the Muslim Brothers?’ he asked.
    â€œThe question astonished me. Now I realized for the first time what it was they were accusing me of being. ‘Never for a single moment have I belonged to the Muslim Brotherhood,’ I replied.
    â€œÂ â€˜What’s the beard for then?’
    â€œÂ â€˜I’ve grown it in