{"id":26629,"date":"2023-06-04T10:21:57","date_gmt":"2023-06-04T08:21:57","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/themarkaz.org\/oldsite\/?p=26629"},"modified":"2023-06-04T12:19:18","modified_gmt":"2023-06-04T10:19:18","slug":"fiction-an-excerpt-from-fadi-zaghmouts-hope-on-earth","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/themarkaz.org\/oldsite\/fiction-an-excerpt-from-fadi-zaghmouts-hope-on-earth\/","title":{"rendered":"Fiction: An Excerpt from Fadi Zaghmout’s Hope On Earth<\/em>"},"content":{"rendered":"

Fadi Zaghmout’s latest novel in Arabic, Hope On Earth,<\/em>\u00a0is set in Jordan, in a dystopian world where people no longer die because they can be upgraded to better and more functional forms. Thanks to AI, a person’s essence or “soul” can be transferred from one body to another to preserve it, and so a person’s essence lives forever.<\/p>\n

In 2023, some argue that “AI has hacked the operating system of human civilization<\/a>.” In Zaghmout’s story, the question is, what remains of the original and are you human or machine? In this new world struggling to create legislation, a fanatical religious group has come up with their own principles of punishment and reward based on “ancient religious” doctrines. They target the young, convincing them to surrender their fate to them.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Fadi Zaghmout<\/h4>\n

Translated by Rana Asfour<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The sight of angels hovering over each of Omar’s shoulders petrified us. It wasn\u2019t the fact that they had materialized out of nowhere that shook us, nor was it that we ever believed that we were witnesses to a divine miracle. The advent of these horrific apparitions confirmed our deep-seated suspicions that Omar had fallen prey to that most detestable group, surrendering his right to self-determination. It had dawned on us that his departure was only a matter of time. It was now up to the algorithm to decide his fate, to pluck him at random from our midst in order to hold him accountable for what his hands had committed on this Earth. And there, locked up in the skies with no chance of escape, it would be up to them<\/em> to decide how his century-long sentence would be spent, in heavenly bliss or tortuous hell.<\/p>\n

We were jolted back to the present by Janna\u2019s screams. She appeared crazed, her mind unravelling at the enormity of the truth right before her eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat have you done?\u201d she shouted. \u201cWhat have you done, you crazy man?\u201d she repeated, slapping her own cheeks.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>
The Arabic original of Hope On Earth<\/em><\/a> by Fadi Zaghmout.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

She stood trembling in place, bewildered and unsure about where to go and what to do in the face of this calamity. Uncle Jamal shot up and engulfed her in his arms, fearing that she might, at any moment, black out and collapse from shock.<\/p>\n

In turn, I quickly moved to switch on the lights in an attempt to disperse the darkness that had taken over the room. I realized that it was the right thing for me to do, because as the light disseminated throughout the room, the apparitions dimmed. Subdued to faint streams they appeared less visible, which somewhat succeeded in calming Janna.<\/p>\n

\u201cTurn them off,\u201d she ordered him aggressively and firmly.<\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t,\u201d he replied.<\/p>\n

\u201cI am telling you to switch them off!\u201d she repeated.<\/p>\n

She seemed determined to take matters into her own hands, perhaps assuming that an authoritative approach would force him to regret his decision, or at least knock some sense back into him. When he did not respond, she approached him and waved her hands over both his shoulders hoping to erase the apparitions from existence.<\/p>\n

\u201cI really can’t do anything. The matter is out of my hands,\u201d he told her, deadpan.<\/p>\n

\u201cThen in whose hands is it? Whose hands?\u201d she erupted before, I, astonished and mesmerized, watched as she, for the first time ever, raised her arm up high over her head and then brought it down to strike him.<\/p>\n

He stood there, paralyzed in place, and in complete shock. He cowered into himself for a moment and received the blows that were now raining down on his arms, shoulders and head, hoping to absorb her anger in the process. When she wouldn\u2019t stop and he could take it no longer, he unfolded himself to his full height and shoved her.<\/p>\n

\u201cGet away from me,\u201d he hollered, incensed and angry.<\/p>\n

Omar clearly hadn\u2019t processed the impact his decision would have on her, on us, and on everyone who loved and cared for him. And I don\u2019t think he ever did. He had allowed his unwieldy irate temperament and his selfishness to control his destiny. And on this day, his shouting and belligerence failed to intimidate and subdue Janna\u2019s \u201ccraziness\u201d as they had managed to do before. If anything, her screams escalated, her anger spiraled and her blows intensified as she sprang to catch up with him as he tried unsuccessfully to escape to his room. We intervened then, shielding him from her reach until we could get him into the kitchen, shutting the door behind us. We settled him at the kitchen table to cool down from the exertion of what we had all been through. I rushed to fill a glass with water and handed it to Jamal who encouraged him to drink up, all while entreating him to calm down and reconsider.<\/p>\n

\u201cJust breathe, ammo<\/em>. That\u2019s it. Just breathe, my love,\u201d he told him.<\/p>\n

This close to Omar I feasted my eyes on the two angels and drank in their details. I was disappointed to discover two bearded men dressed in the traditional thawb<\/em> and turban, which, in my view, suggested the inventiveness of their maker who could not fathom the likelihood of a female angel. Perhaps whoever it was that configured them wanted them to resemble the male characters depicted in popular books on Islamic heritage. I surmised that it could be possible that the group responsible for this software had wanted dimensional portrayals of Ibn Rushd, Ibn Sina or Ibn Hayyan, with the wings added as an innovative afterthought. In so doing, they had overlooked the crucial fact that angels, unlike humans, are genderless beings.<\/p>\n

I tried to stop myself from getting upset over this detail, particularly when we were in the midst of clearly bigger issues to worry about. I mean, did I really expect those who proselytize an extremely religious doctrine, and who called for exacting their self-styled principles of punishment and reward to be any less masculine? And would I have felt more vindicated had one of the angels been a man and the other a woman? What if they had both appeared in ambiguous form, one similar to mine, would I have then jumped for joy at this group\u2019s recognition of a genderless existence, albeit one restricted to spiritual beings without corporal bodies? What if they had appeared in the image of my own two \u201cangels,\u201d Janna and Jehan, who since my birth have refused to leave me alone to shoulder the world and have insisted on holding me accountable for all my actions? Would I have applauded them and thanked them for extending their operations to include Omar?<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat does she have to do with me? It\u2019s none of her business.\u201d Omar was now shouting, clearly still agitated even after he had drunk the water.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s my life and I\u2019m free to do with it as I please. I am grateful that she raised me but that\u2019s the extent of my loyalty and respect for her,\u201d he shouted at no one in particular. He kept up a barrage of curses and insults and in his blind rage seemed oblivious to the two angels perched on his shoulders, who kept a silent, yet vigilant, watch. To my surprise, and seemingly unperturbed by my curious stares, one of the angels produced what looked like a feather from one pocket of his tunic, and a paper scroll from the other pocket after which he proceeded to write something down. Omar shifted in place each time the angel wrote something, making man and angel appear in sync. And even when the unsuspecting Omar was silently absorbed in private contemplation, the angel, privy to Omar\u2019s inner thoughts, continued on with his task.<\/p>\n

\u201cActions are only by intention,\u201d Jamal said, voicing what I had been thinking. His words were directed at both the angel and Omar in the hope that the angel would excuse Omar his angry outburst and realize his good intentions and his kind essence. At that, Omar visibly calmed down, finally having understood what had happened, and he began to ask for forgiveness.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere is no god but God, Muhammad is his Messenger. I seek forgiveness from God Almighty, besides whom there is no god, the Ever-Living, the Eternal, and I repent to Him.\u201d<\/p>\n

He muttered what was left of his supplications, after which I seized my opportunity.<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay Omar,\u201d I asked. \u201cWhich of these angels records the good deeds and which one records the bad ones?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe one on the right is the angel of good deeds,\u201d he replied.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you sure?\u201d I asked, trying to sow doubt into him. \u201cBecause the angel on the left is writing,\u201d I joked. He wasn\u2019t. I lied to scare him so that he might realize the error of his ways.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, no, it doesn\u2019t work that way. The angel of good deeds has authority over that of the bad ones. It doesn\u2019t allow it to record anything before I\u2019m allowed a respite in which to repent for my wrongdoing, whether in deeds or words. If I choose not to repent, then my sins are recorded,\u201d he answered confidently.<\/p>\n

\u201cLooks like you\u2019ve been taken for a ride. The algorithm is flawed because the angel on your left hasn\u2019t stopped writing as though on a vengeful warpath directed at you,\u201d I continued in an attempt at further provocation.<\/p>\n

\u201cLook! Look!\u201d I added to hone in on my point.<\/p>\n

As he turned his head towards his left shoulder to check out matters for himself, I put my palm against his right cheek and pushed as if to aid him in his pursuit, while at the same time, I placed the palm of my second hand over his left eye in an attempt to block him from seeing the angel. He cried out in pain at the pressure I was inflicting on his cheek and in frustration as I continued to block his view. Exasperated, he finally shoved my hand away.<\/p>\n

\u201cDumb ass,\u201d he cried.<\/p>\n

Jamal finally intervened.<\/p>\n

\u201cEnough ammo<\/em>, stop bothering your brother,\u201d he admonished me, after which he reassured Omar that the angel wasn\u2019t writing anything at all.<\/p>\n

I had no intention of ceasing my harassments. I felt it my duty to argue with him and to provoke him so that he might once again question this irrational decision. I wanted to prod the reasons behind placing his blind faith in the justice of these two angels and those behind their design. I wanted to question him about the legislative principles these programmable angels were fed, and how they measured up against his own beliefs. Had he taken any of that into account before reaching his decision? Was he even aware of what he was being judged on? Or had his love for adventure and new experiences clouded his judgement, setting him on a path that could only spell his end one day?<\/p>\n

Janna chose this moment to barge in on us before I could ask him anything. She appeared to have calmed down and asked us to leave the room so she could talk to Omar alone. We left and went off to bed.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

While Magda and I lay side by side in conversation about the meaning of life, watching the sun sink into the horizon of one of the most captivating beaches in Neom, Janna was hailing a taxi to fly her to the spaceship where Omar lay in induced unconsciousness, serving out his centenary-long purgatory. Jehan had taken advantage of her absence and gone to our house in Abdoun to whisk away Uncle Jamal to live with her in her apartment.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve always been impressed with Jehan\u2019s ability to seize opportunities that open up to her, and that\u2019s how I know that she couldn\u2019t have let this one slip away. Fully aware of the ongoing controversial public debate regarding the rights of robots, like my Uncle Jamal, that are in possession of full human consciousness and able to decide their own fate, it is quite evident that she has decided to take advantage of the situation in order to push forward her own agenda. On one side of the debate were the conservatives who opposed equality between machines and humans. Their argument was rooted in the principle that machines were made by man, who in turn was made by the Creator, and therefore it would never be permissible to equate machines with humans. On the other side of the argument were the liberals who believed that since machines now possessed a degree of awareness, one not very different from what any human possessed, including feelings and sensations, they should be treated as equal to man.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow can we allow ourselves a return to slavery and what would certainly be a repeat of that shameful period of human existence?\u201d Magda asked me as we discussed this matter under the moonlight.<\/p>\n

I agreed wholeheartedly. Uncle Jamal had lived with us for many years now and I had never glimpsed a shred of anything that set him apart from any one of us. However, I also realized that the matter was not as simple as all that either. Like other dialectical matters, there was no single truth. Today\u2019s machines were constantly evolving and were being manufactured in various shapes and sizes, with infinite capabilities that simulated those of humans, but often time exceeded them too. Therefore, I saw the wisdom in a classification system. Uncle Jamal\u2019s category of robots for instance was created to satisfy human beings\u2019 need to transfer consciousness into an enduring body able to sustain life for longer periods of time.<\/p>\n

On the other hand, the case for current human evolution could be argued in much the same vein. Recent years have witnessed an acceleration in human evolution due to the integration between humans and machines that has resulted in upgrading the human with diverse tailored customizations, depending on each individual\u2019s desire and whim. As humans we no longer share one comprehensive form, and the disparity between us, between those who have access to the financial means to upgrade themselves and those who do not, has become vast.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow can we set boundaries that we agree upon at a time when boundaries have become illusory, flimsy, changeable, and even contradictory?\u201d I asked her.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s no longer a question of what a machine is,\u201d Magda commented.<\/p>\n

\u201cRather a question of what a person is?\u201d I cut in.<\/p>\n

I almost hastened to answer her question by referring to the fact that humans are creatures made of flesh and blood, while machines were composites of steel, iron, and various other metals. But, I remembered that this also wasn\u2019t completely true since flesh, blood, and pigments were now being manufactured in laboratories, rendering the human body a theatre showcasing the administrations of intricate machines.<\/p>\n

She did not wait for my answer, because her statement had been one of discontent. Instead, she replied with a question of her own.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you know what scares me the most about this whole issue?\u201d she asked as she reached for my palm, as if wanting to steel me to the fears rumbling through her mind.<\/p>\n

I tightened my grip, leaned over and looked deep into her eyes. \u201cTell me,\u201d I urged.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat we have begun relinquishing major existential decisions to these algorithms. Eventually a day will come when they decide everything and when that happens, they will refuse to be regarded as anything other than human-like.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThis means you are against Uncle Jamal choosing how to live his life?\u201d I asked her while mentally getting ready to oppose her.<\/p>\n

\u201cI never said that,\u201d she replied. \u201cTechnically, everyone\u2019s equally the same to me. Any rational person is able to deduce that and doesn\u2019t accept the injustice we see today. But the problem is that we, humans and machines, are governed by the same collective, law, algorithm, and random order,\u201d she said as she squeezed my hand trying to soften the impact of her words.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe are all lost these days. None of us can tell a truth from a falsehood, and all of us are struggling to keep up with or to comprehend the rapid changes taking place.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo why not just relax and let the algorithm decide for us?\u201d I joked, mimicking her Egyptian dialect.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s happening anyway so you\u2019re right, why should we bother our heads thinking about it?\u201d she agreed.<\/p>\n

She inched herself towards me until she was leaning over me. Her arm burrowed into the sand beneath my neck so that when her fingers emerged from the other side to play themselves against my forehead, my head completely rested itself on the fleshy crook of her arm. Leaning in closer still, our eyes locked.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat beauty is this?\u201d she murmured seductively.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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