“State your first and last name to the board of elders,” commanded a solid steady voice.
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“Hasim Patel.”
This was anticipated Hasim reflected.
“Contact?”
“Alexander.”
So far, so good.
“Birth date?”
“11 of September 1994.”
“Country of origin?”
“Syria.”
“Lineage?”
Hasim paused.
“Lineage,” the voice boomed again with more force.
Hasim took a deep breath.
His objective was to be accepted, but he hadn't prepared for this question.
Hasim cleared his throat and began confidently, “I am Hasim Patel, son of Abram Patel, son of Shem Ali, son of Edom Paran, son of Elam Patel, son of Nahash…”
“That’s far enough,” the voice interrupted.
Hasim let out a sigh of relief.
“Jeffery says that you demonstrated an ability to fight,” the stern voiced questioner, Tectamus, added more as a statement than a question.
Hasim nodded. “Sir, I’ve had my share of fights. There is nothing more I would like to avoid, but when push comes to shove, there is only one thing to do.”
“Well, what do you see your role here being?”
“This is something I’ve given much thought to and depending on your needs, I am sure I can fit in where you need me.” Hasim answered evasively.
“Look, we know more about you than you may realize,” Tectamus said with a hint of threat in his voice.
Hasim had done his homework, but he only knew what he was able to find. He was not able to know what he didn’t know he needed to know.
“Tectamus, right? Can I call you Mr. T? I am going to put it on the line here and tell you I am here to help and think I can provide you with some real assets in my ability to gather information for you from sources you may not normally be able to reach.”
“Undoubtedly, and no Mr. T is not okay, but my friends can me Chief. That’s all for now, Hasim, we will talk more later.”
Hasim left the building alone with a nagging thought that he left knowing only a little more than before and that he gave up more information than maybe he should have.
Hsiao Hsi cupped his hand to keep the flame long enough to light the cigarette that dangled from his lower lip.
He plopped down on his worn futon. He interlaced his fingers and cradled the back his head spreading his elbows out wide.
So this is how it ends?, he contemplated.
The pending oil depletion had been in the news everyday for the last decade, but it had been kept at bay due to constant innovation in the industry. It began with Fracking and changed over the decade in as many ways as the mega-corporations squeezed every last cent from the earth.
Hsiao, was from the Shandong province which had experienced a boom in economic prosperity because of its proximity to South Korea and Japan which provided commercial investments and tourism to the area.
Hsi could be described as a textbook slacker. He had an intellect and wit smart enough to skate by in school without much strenuous efforts and he rarely challenged himself to become something greater.
He liked thinking and didn’t think much for working too hard.
Now that the world was rioting and fretting over food, Hsi felt like his life choices served him well.
If it was all going down the tubes anyways, why strive for what is certain to quickly be no more?
It was thinking like this that often kept Hsiao from taking action.
So this is it, he kept coming back to.
Should I try to go out in a blaze of glory? Should I try to piece together some sorta coalition and build a tribe to support and supply me and each other?
What about being a lone wolf type?
The dystopian fiction and television shows had peppered his mind with many options and opportunities.
Whatever happens, this is gonna be fun.
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