Open

Seyit Ali Dastan

 

Our story is also somebody else’s story, and somebody else’s story is also our story. They are a subset of each other, intertwining and intersecting over space and time. We have no idea who is doing what at the moment that would change our life entirely or vice versa. We only know when it happens. And this is the story of Ufuk, Cengiz and Melih who all live the same life in different circles.

Ufuk’s story

It all started when Ufuk got a letter from the mailman on a beautiful autumn day in Ankara. The day was beautiful because earlier that week his wife, Rüya, had told him she was pregnant. A baby that was expected to arrive months later had already brought to Ufuk and his wife a pleasure that they had never experienced before. And – this coincided with a promotion in the office where he was working as an economist for a consulting firm. Ufuk just thought, sometimes things go good, other times they may go bad. This is a scale that God keeps in a person. There are miraculous times when all things go fine. Truly fine! Not so to speak! And that day, falling in such a period of his life, prompted nothing but a precious sense of satisfaction.

The letter came from the public prosecutor. It said that he would be prosecuted for the alleged crime of being a member of an armed terrorist organization. For a second, Ufuk thought that there must be a mistake. Maybe the letter was given to him in error; the addressee was a neighbor or somebody else. But when he doublechecked the details, it was his full name and ID number on the document. There was no doubt that the letter was addressed to him. Still, Ufuk was sure that something was wrong. He didn’t tell his wife about the letter and, on the following day, visited the police department that had summoned him to give a statement. However, the police officers didn’t tell him anything about the case and asked him to wait for a week to provide the statement in the presence of the prosecutor.

This entire week, Ufuk told his wife nothing and pretended that everything was as usual, although she sensed something was amiss. Ufuk was quite anxious on the morning of his appointment with the prosecutor. Rüya wished Ufuk good luck and said she had no concern whatsoever that her husband would get over what he had been anxious about all week. This was, indeed, her gentle way of not scrutinizing a matter which he hadn’t mention himself.

As he went to the Court House, an ugly building in the center of Ankara, the prosecutor’s clerk took him to the hearing room. The prosecutor entered the room and took his seat, while the clerk asked Ufuk to stand behind the bar during the proceedings. He did so. After some procedural questions, the prosecutor zeroed in on the point:

“It was reported to us that you were harshly criticizing the government and defending some people who were plotting terrorism.”

He was astonished by what the prosecutor said and replied:

“I strongly reject the claim, sir. I have never supported overthrowing the government by unconstitutional means. There must be a misunderstanding.”

“Ok, I understand you. People often criticize the government. This is what democracy is about and we live in a democratic country. So, you definitely have the right to support a change. There are many opposition parties that do exactly what you were reported to do. We have no objection to them.”

“Then, why am I here?” Ufuk asked with suppressed anger.

“Well, Ufuk. We don’t charge you with a crime based on just a report to us. We investigated a little further.”

“So?”

“So!” he laughed sarcastically. “We have some modules to check people’s engagement with terrorism. After you were reported, we processed your personal data within this module. We realized that you have stayed with convicted terrorist organization members in the same hotel on certain dates, and went abroad with some others on the same airplane. And you have had many calls with people affiliated with terrorist organizations. Besides…” –  he stopped for a moment to check the documents on the table and continued, “You have visited some banned websites and both the geotracking and patterns of your smartphone show that there is a link between you and criminals. Considering that you are not a lawyer or any sort of law enforcement officer, there is no reasonable explanation for your connection with these guys.”

As he completed his words, Ufuk was shocked at what he was accused of and replied astonishingly:

“Sir, are any of these matters proof of being a member of a terrorist organization?”

“Honestly speaking, no,” he said.

“Then, why am I being indicted for this?”

“Well, even if these points alone do not prove that you are a member of a terrorist organization, they become proof when they are assembled.”

“Assembled?”

“Yes,” he said. “When these parts are assembled together, they form solid evidence that you are a member of a terrorist organization. Your score is high enough to make us believe so.”

“Score? But, how do you calculate it?”

“We don’t bother with it. Our office uses a computer with a massive processor and it instantly determines a person’s affiliation with terrorism. For instance, your score is 83, which is high enough to have reasonable doubt.”

“Did you just rely on artificial intelligence to indict me on terrorism.”

“No! We also have our own intelligence,” he smiled. “We don’t run ordinary people‘s names in this software. Believe me; this computer would calculate the entire Turkish nation’s score in half a day. But that would be unfair and harm people’s confidence in justice. We do it only when a concrete report arrives in our office noting somebody’s connection to terrorism. And we don’t, of course, act on a single report; rather, we cross-check it with the computer processing system. You can call it the verification of somebody else’s report through cutting-edge software processing systems.”

The prosecutor stopped for a while and slowly swiveled on his seat. He looked directly into Ufuk’s eyes and continued: “There is a guy, Ufuk, who told law enforcement that you are a member of a terrorist organization.”

“But that is unfair,” Ufuk insisted again.

“Well, we will see after the trial. You are lucky that I will not have you arrested right now,” he said and left the room.

Ufuk returned home, his mind confused; a little bit sad but not depressed. He was confident that something was wrong with this case and he would eventually be acquitted. But even so, it was a challenge to his tranquil life. He had no option but to share it with his wife in the evening. When he did so, Rüya laughed and placated him: “You little Kafkaesque protagonist; let’s think about this bad guy slandering you now; I will consult some lawyers on the case. You will be acquitted for sure!”

For a month, he thought about who reported him to the police. He got a call from Cengiz, one of Ufuk’s close old friends. Cengiz invited him to lunch. As Ufuk shared this invitation with Rüya, she smiled and said, “Let’s see how the cookie crumbles!”

Cengiz’s story

Cengiz invited Ufuk to a café in the Çukurambar district of Ankara. The neighborhood used to be an underdeveloped part of the city, but, with the change in the zoning plan, it was looted for those with political connections. It became well-known for people living in tall buildings, and the cafeterias on the lower floors served as gathering places for children of influential people. Ufuk was not a fan of these circles that resembled kitschy versions of Ankara’s developed ones.

The day they met at noon was a warm October one. The cafeteria belonged to a chain whose owner is known for affiliation with the government. As Ufuk entered and glanced around the indoor hall, he saw Cengiz waving his hand on the terrace.

“Come on my old friend. Let’s enjoy the taste of the last days of the sun before winter comes,” Cengiz said affectionately.  They shook hands and hugged each other as a sign of their intimate and lasting friendship. They ordered tea from the waiter and started a deep conversation under the October sun.

“How are things really going my friend?” Cengiz asked.

“Well,” Ufuk said, “you know things do not always go great. There are ups and downs on the road. But I’m at good crossroads in life. I was recently promoted for instance. And I finally finished my mortgage payments,” they both laughed. “What about you, Cengiz? You haven’t yet told me, but I heard you were appointed to be head of the department.”

“Oh, yes. But it isn’t that important. I have a higher salary, and also a room dedicated to me. It’s nice to have a secretary. Now, I don’t call the waiters. I call the secretary and she does it for me. And there are a lot of people wishing to see me, trying to get an appointment. That is great,” he laughed.

“Cengiz!” Ufuk intervened, “Dude, you know people cannot be promoted without political backing in Turkey. How did you get support?”

This was a question only close friends could ask each other. When Ufuk did it, Cengiz paused and took a sip of his tea. He looked around as if he was gaining time to make up a story.

“Ufuk, if it were not you, I would say that this was the fruit of many years of effort and a diligent life and the trust of seniors and so on. But, considering our strong bonds, there is no need to lie to you.” Still hiding his eyes, he continued, “A distant relative of mine in my hometown Mersin arranged the position for me.”

“Oh, really? I didn’t know you have a relative like that. You have never told me about such a person. Anyway, I am happy to hear about your success.”

Ufuk was surprised because he came from a poor peasant family that made a living with livestock in the Taurus Mountains.

“Yes,” he said. “Let’s say coincidental. A windfall! Sometimes, the bird lands on your head. And this was my turn.” As they spoke on this matter, Cengiz somehow lost his cosmetic cheer.  Eventually, he said, “You know, these missions all depend on the political situation in the country. If the ruling party loses the next election, some others would replace us.”

Ufuk took a sip of his tea and replied in a harsh tone.

“I stopped talking about politics.”

“You did the best, my friend. You can’t imagine how people are reporting our political opinions to the police.”

Now Ufuk was looking Cengiz directly in the face, but the latter was evading him and hiding his eyes.  They didn’t speak for a while. They both finished their tea. The waiter picked up the empty glasses and asked if they would like anything else. Cengiz ordered two more. The silence between them continued until they were served again. Cengiz started to mix his brew with a spoon. But, there was no sugar inside, so he was apparently thinking about something else. After taking the first sip, Cengiz broke the silence.

“Ufuk, you are very special to me. I would not have graduated from the university if you had not tutored me. You even arranged some scholarships for me. And, if I have achieved something in my life, you really had a great role in it. I just can’t deny it. You merit better friends than me, but people like you always attract others with serious weaknesses.” He stopped for a while, kept mixing his tea without a reason, and then continued: “I am sure you remember when I asked for a loan two years ago. You gave it to me, and I haven’t paid it back yet, have I?” he paused, glancing at his friend.

“Don’t mention it,” Ufuk replied.

“Anyway, I didn’t tell you the reason for that money. Prior to asking for some loans from people like you, I had started betting online. It was innocent football betting. I started to bet on Turkish leagues. But it was not sufficiently entertaining because the results of the matches were somehow easy to wager, and they don’t pay much. I tried to find other country leagues that were offering a greater amount of money. Premier League and La Liga and then the Bundesliga… No, I didn’t even stop there. I surveyed leagues of Southern America. You can’t imagine how much of an expert I became about entire football leagues around the world. Bet on matches everywhere.”

“But,” Ufuk intervened, “you don’t even play football.”

“I don’t play it. But who cares? You don’t need to be a player to wager on matches. Eventually, this habit drove me into a massive debt spiral. Since I’m a civil servant, I easily got loans from the banks. Paying the loans from one bank with the loans from another… Asking friends for some debt just to try to save the amounts which I lost in the previous match… And, as you might well expect, this was a danger to my job as well. A gambling addiction could be grounds for dismissal. I was able to hide it until a bank seized a part of my salary. I was on edge. Truly hopeless!”

“Why didn’t you call me? Of course, not to borrow more money but to ask for help with kicking this habit… It is a treatable addiction.”

“Believe me, Ufuk, I thought about it. But it was hard to confess to others. Yes, you or some other close friends could have been an exit from that hell.”

“So, why didn’t you do it?”

Cengiz stopped for a while. Apparently, he was not sure whether to continue. He glanced around again, as if he were being chased by somebody else.

“Do you remember Melih?” he asked silently and anxiously.

“Melih? Which Melih?” Ufuk asked.

“Come on, man, Melih from high school. He was two grades ahead of us. He then entered Ankara University’s Political Science Department.”

“Oh yeah, Melih from Kayseri? How could I forget that prominent figure from school?”

“Exactly, that Melih!” he said, bending down to the table as if he were being listened to by people around them.

Melih’s story

Cengiz started in:

“It was two years ago. I was bogged down on one of the worst days of my betting habit – or gambling addiction, to put it more accurately – and facing the risk of being dismissed from my job. I got a call from Melih. We were pretty familiar with each other and occasionally met at some old school friends’ events, meals or the like. He had also visited me in my office a few times before. We weren’t close friends, of course, like you and me, but got along. He invited me to a café.

It was a beautiful spring day, but I was so depressed that beautiful days gave me the extra pain of feeling that I was missing something outside. I just thought that everybody except me was so happy and living their lives in the best manner they could. Melih invited me to a cafeteria in the Çukurambar district. It was a café for snobby children of influential people and I always envy those who patronize these places. As I entered the café, I saw he was sitting on the terrace. Although the sun was struggling to break through the clouds after a cold winter, there were not many people on the terrace. Only a few tables were occupied.

Melih was wearing a smart suit over a flower-patterned shirt. He was semi-bald and resembled a middle-aged Italian male model – apart from his slightly protruding ears. Anyway, by no means did he look like a typical Turkish civil servant, and I felt overwhelmed by his appearance in my unironed clothes.  He acted so sincerely… asking questions about my job, my family and my daily life…”

At one point, he paused and stopped talking. We were both drinking tea. He finished up his own and ordered another glass from the waiter and emphasized that the next one should be darker. He held his car key in one hand, occasionally hitting the table with it. After pulling a package of cigarettes from his pocket, he asked me if I wanted one.

“No, I don’t smoke,” I replied.

“That’s good!” he said after inhaling a deep breath of smoke. “You know it’s a bad habit, you’re lucky not to have such an addiction,” he continued, looking me directly in the eyes. I could see his slyly smiling face through the cigarette smoke. “Can you make a living on your salary? I know in the first years in your department, the pay is not good. Right?”

“Well,” I said, “it suffices for an unmarried man like me.”

“Really! Come on Cengiz! An unmarried man needs more money than a married one.” While saying this, he was staring at a table ahead of us. Two ladies were sitting there and they were obviously attractive. “A spouse needs less money than a girlfriend,” he added with a smile.

His dark tea was served. He removed the spoon from the glass, took a sip of the tea and returned to the subject of our high school years.

“We both studied at a primitive high school. Okay, friendship was nice. But, the premises were so old and useless, weren’t they? I still remember the cold winter morning when we were studying under blankets. There was nothing around. The city was kilometers away and you needed to go to the nearest village by bus. Why did they build a high school in such a challenging place? What craziness! It looked like an orthodox monastery. Why put classes of pupils in there? I would definitely not send my future kid to a place like that. Maybe our parents just kicked our asses to that hell. Shall I tell you a story of mine, do you have a minute?” he asked.

I checked the hour on my phone and said, “Sure, I’ll be happy to listen.” I was wondering about the point he wished to come to at the end as well as the purpose of the meeting on the terrace.

Melih continued:

“It was a cold and snowy winter night. A few of us had just left the dormitory and went to our secret smoking area.”

He took one more drag, keeping his eyes on me:

“You know, smoking was forbidden for high school students. Actually, I wish it was forbidden for all, so we could get rid of it. Anyway, our secret place was a section of the central heating unit of the school campus. It was hot and secluded. While we were going there, it was snowing a bit. But as we neared it, the flakes intensified. We were children, so the snow just gave us joy. You get this joy unless you’re a poor parent. And we were just hoping that the provincial education directorate would cancel classes the following day and we could hang out longer. Then, I left my friends to pee. They urged me to hurry up – the storm was getting worse. And to quell their concerns, I ordered them to go ahead. I would catch up. After I’d relieved myself, I rushed after them. But the snowfall had turned into a blizzard. I could not even see a meter in front of me. I could not hear them. I was trying to follow their footprints, but they had vanished! I could only roughly make out the dormitory building as a dark shadow a hundred meters ahead. At least I knew I was walking in the direction of the building. But things got worse.

I heard a group of dogs barking. The sounds of the barking got closer over time. Eventually, I saw them. They were now bounding after me. Maybe five or six, or even ten. There were too many. I was sure they had been hungry for days and regarded me as prey. If it hadn’t been snowing, I could have at least found a stone or something to throw at them. But there was nothing to defend me. I could not even walk in the accumulation. How could I run faster than them? They had four feet, my friend. It would take a miracle to escape. But then, just a few meters away, there was a smallish concrete shaft-like structure. It was constructed as a shaft for the pipelines carrying hot water to the school’s premises. I started to run there. Well, I fell and stood, stumbled and lurched, over and over again, then ran, jumped…. I was panting, and the air coming from my lungs vanished in the blizzard. My glasses were already wet, and I could barely, barely see the walls of the shaft. Yet I made it. I reached it. As I was on the shaft’s wall so were the dogs. But there was not much space on it. Two or three of them jumped up. They were barking and snarling at me. I could even smell the breath of the wild dogs. It was horrible. Then I looked down the shaft. I grasped an iron bar of the ladder, kicking pointlessly at the dogs to gain a few seconds. I tried to hold the bar and get down, but a dog attacked me. I could not keep my grip on the ladder and fell to the bottom of the shaft.”

Melih then stopped. I realized that he was truly feeling again what he had experienced on that evening. I did not even question whether he had made up this story. He realized that he hadn’t drunk his tea, so he ordered the waiter in a loud voice to bring him another glass. Meanwhile, he lit another cigarette.

“So?” I asked, “what happened?”

He smiled and continued:

“Well, nothing. It was apparently just a few meters deep. I fell on the ground, and hit my head on an iron pipe. I remember the “thud.” Then I fainted for a few minutes. When I came to myself, I could still hear the dogs barking. So I couldn’t climb out. I also felt a dull pain in my head, and some parts of my legs and arms were injured. My glasses had been flung off my face when I hit the ground, and I started to search for them by feeling around. But I failed.”

He stopped and took a deep drag of his cigarette. His eyes made the impression that he was staring into the void. He continued:

“The place was warm and safe from the dogs. I drifted off again on the ground for an hour or so. When I awoke, the dogs had stopped barking. I only heard the sound of wind from outside. Then…” he stopped, looked directly into my eyes, and said:

“I saw him!”

“Him? Who?” I asked, confused.

“Him!” he replied, “just ahead of me.”

“Who?” I repeated.

He looked me directly in the eye and said:

“The devil. He was just sitting there at the bottom of the shaft right in front of me. I could see his seductive posture and penetrating gaze.”

“Gaze?” I replied in bewilderment.

“Yes, it was the reddish flare of the gaze depicted everywhere. And more importantly, I got the sense that it was evil. Maybe that was his special way of letting me know who he was. As soon as I realized it was there, I scooted back and pushed up against the inside wall. He continuously watched me without saying anything. I was so afraid; and then, to not be harmed, I made a promise to him. And I promised to be a bad guy from then onwards.”

“You gave a promise to him to be a bad guy?” I replied.

“Of course, if you sit in front of the devil and fear him, you do what he asks. If god had been in that shaft instead, believe me, I would have acted in the same way. But it was the devil, he sets the rules. And I’m grateful to the devil – he didn’t touch me. While I again searched for my glasses, I found a broken iron stick instead. Then I started climbing up the stairs, holding the stick.”

As Melih told this story, I started to feel anxious and glanced around. Apart from the two young girls, three more tables were occupied. Two young guys were sitting at one close to them, and two others were near the door. An older guy all alone was somewhat far from us. Nobody was entering the terrace of the cafeteria. When I looked at the terrace’s door, I saw the OPEN sign on it. As I anxiously checked around, my old friend interrupted the silence:

“You may think this is awful. It truly was. But listen, the story actually started as I climbed back to the top of the shaft and stood on the wall. The blizzard had given way to flurries, but a blanket of fog was covering the land. There was a vast landscape ahead of me, and I was staring at the school facilities barely visible from the fog. And the lights of the faraway villages could be seen indistinctly. Then I started to hear things.”

He looked over at me and continued:

“Things… First, I heard some sounds coming from the dormitory. Doors slamming, shouts, uproar, and the raucous commotion of students… I heard them. It was as if they were right next to me. Not a few hundred meters away. Just a stone’s throw! Dogs started barking again, but I knew they weren’t close. Maybe half a kilometer away… I could hear them easily, however, and I could even distinguish the barks of different dogs all around without confusion. They were perfectly arranged in my mind. Standing on that wall, I tried to hear the sounds in the village, maybe a kilometer away. Oh my goodness, there were the sounds of restless cows, the door of the gate slamming under the wind, a rooster’s crowing, and the noise of an old car’s malfunctioning engine. They were all there. I was hearing nothing around me. The touches of snowflakes, the snoring of the bell master on duty, and the sounds of the TV the guard was watching. At that second, I realized that this was a gift the devil had given me so I could serve him well. I gazed around, little-by-little engulfed by the fog, stick in hand.”

He adopted a more theatrical voice and continued:

“I was the wanderer above the sea of fog!”

As Melih continued, I was still looking around for relief. I did not feel good, yet I had the comfort of knowing that it was a public space. Melih could have lost his mind; but there were people around me. That was why I kept looking at the terrace door. It was strange that, despite the OPEN sign on it, nobody was coming out. At that moment, I realized that nobody had come out on the terrace after me, and nobody outside had left, apart from the waiter.

“Listen!” Melih said, “That was not a coincidence. Just a few weeks later, our geography teacher gave me a box and asked me to give it to a friend of his in the city while he was going on vacation for the weekend. That was an arranged meeting. The person I contacted hosted me in his office. And after some small talk, he asked me if I would serve my country. If I would inform on my mates in school. In turn, he would ask a charity to give me a scholarship. That was the grand deal that started it all. I recorded every detail about my friends and reported them to him. Almost every weekend… You know, our high school was a privileged one. Students would become prominent figures in the future. So, a collection of information would be priceless when the time was right. I gathered everything you can imagine. Who loves whom? Who has a fiduciary weakness? Who believes in god, and who does not? Who is gay? Even the soccer teams they are a fan of. I didn’t pay attention to the nature of the information. Just kept giving it to them. And it didn’t stop. On the university exam, I got a score much better than I expected.”

While saying this, he smiled ironically and continued:

“You know, for the first two years I studied at Istanbul University, then transferred to Ankara where I studied the last two years. The reason for this was that you can hardly cheat people, especially clever ones for four years. And, more importantly, my country needed me in two of the schools. You can’t imagine how I mastered serving my country, and I was awarded a reputable job afterward.”

He repeated the “serving” again in a sarcastic manner and extracted his glasses from the inside pocket of his jacket. As he put on the red-frame glasses, he turned to me and asked:

“Would you not like to serve yourself, Cengiz?”

That second, I saw my reflection in his lenses, my pained face. I didn’t reply.

He proceeded:

“I’m not going to lie about asking you to serve your country. F–k it. I care only about myself, and caring about myself is an asset for my country. Those guys who praise the nation or the country are all liars; truly they are. So far, I have been more honest to you than necessary. We have a common past. So would you not like to serve yourself?”

Cengiz’s story

I looked about, checking the people around us. The young guys nearby, both with stubbles, were not even talking to each other, just checking their phones. The girls were laughing and cheerful. But wait, didn’t one of the ladies look at me? Yes, she definitely made eye contact.

“Cengiz?” Melih asked to keep my attention on him again.

Then I suddenly changed the topic: “The shaft? Did you not go there again?”

He smiled and replied, “Yes, of course, exactly on the day we graduated from high school. It was a summer afternoon. That place was not easily found. No pathway… I walked over the dry brushwood. When I found it, I realized that the wall of the shaft was too high above ground. I had somehow managed to scale it on that winter night. And the dogs also did. Anyway, I looked down. The ladder descended into the darkness.

“And?”

“Yes,” he said, “I dared to go down it.”

“Anything in there?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Well, there was just some mechanical stuff – valves, pipes, an electric shaft pane, a tiny red light on it, and… a cupboard with a mirror. And of course, there were my glasses.”

That had to be the red-framed glasses he had put on – I could see the scratches.

“Cengiz!” he continued, “Serving the devil and serving god is essentially different. The devil pays in advance but god issues a post-dated check. And, don’t forget, a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. Do something bad now, you’ll see that your life is better. But if you do something good, god will probably raise the bar ahead of you with a greater challenge.” He stopped for a while and again took an affectionate attitude:

“You could have a better life today. I know you have some financial problems and debts. You can settle them for ever. Start a new life… Get over the betting addiction. You can even beat it. We sometimes fill in our empty spaces with such crazy games. There is a way to get over them. Believe me. You will have more money; you will be promoted, and people will wait in front of your door. Important people… You will have a reputation. And…” He pointed to the table where the girls were sitting and said, “You will sleep with beautiful girls!” The same girl was watching me at that moment.

He did not stop there:

“You are not a bad guy. Well, your flowers in your bedroom need some water, and you better clear your internet browser history. You never know who is monitoring you. And buy a new fridge so that your food no longer spoils in it. Your cheese preference is great; I would like to know where you got it. Maybe your mom is sending it from Mersin. And you should stop playing with jigsaw puzzles. It’s a waste of time, and you don’t have enough space to hang them.”

He removed his glasses and asked in a firm and decisive voice: “What do you think?”

At that second, everybody on the terrace started to look at me. The girls and two guys close to us; two others near the door; and the single older guy in the distant corner… Seriously, they were all staring at me. Then I looked at the terrace door with fear, desperately seeking an exit. But I realized that since the OPEN sign was facing me, the CLOSED sign was turned to the people inside. I was already trapped on the terrace that was closed to others, whereas the ordinary people’s world was not truly open to me. I was sort of imprisoned in the middle of that spring day and the people around me.

As Cengiz completed his story, Ufuk realized that this was the same terrace where Cengiz and Melih met on that spring noon. He anxiously glanced around, but did not see anything extraordinary. As he checked the door, there was no signpost on it; and people were coming in and out. Ufuk sighed deeply.

Cengiz said sadly: “I am sorry, my friend.”

Ufuk’s story

On that late afternoon, Ufuk took the bus home. It was crowded, and he had to stand. At each stop, people got on and off. There were high school students chatting loudly, moms who struggled to fit their kid’s strollers in the bus, and retired elderly people sitting in the seats reserved for them. Many others were checking their phones and watching videos. Among the other people on the bus, Ufuk suddenly felt indicted on terrorism charges. It was a weird feeling that nobody on the bus was aware that they were traveling with a so-called criminal. And their phones were tracking the same pattern as Ufuk’s phone, which would potentially make any other person on the bus face the public prosecutor in the future. It was like a contagious terrorism charge which spreads through means of communication as well as reporting to the police.

Ufuk got off the bus at the stop close to his home. As he started to walk toward his building, he got a text from his wife: “If you survived, please drop in a supermarket and buy yogurt and bread,” ending with a smile emoji. Ufuk replied in the same manner: “Sure, honey, I’m still out and about.”

Ufuk entered the supermarket on his path. He finished the shopping and paid at the checkout. As he walked toward the exit, the sign on the door read “CLOSED.” With the bags in his hand, Ufuk stopped for a second. He thanked god that he was free and would remain so, no matter what the outcome of the criminal case was. And equally, Ufuk recalled his friend and felt guilty that he could not sufficiently assist Cengiz in his struggle. With a conflicting sense of inner peace of conscience and remorse, Ufuk left the market and started to walk home. As he got closer, he was hoping that Rüya had ordered yogurt because she might have cooked mantı, a Turkish ravioli, for dinner. And, he was also thinking of telling his wife that our lives were interconnected in some way beyond our imagination. Just like the liaison between hope and peril, faith and doubt, or, well, open and closed.