A middleaged guy who had been a young kid in Egypt, working the crowds of tourists to make enough money to eat from day to day. Sometimes he had to pick pockets. Sometimes he could just take pictures or show a couple of the more out-of-the-way sites and make enough money that picking pockets wasn't necessary.
The life of that tour guide had ended abruptly with the Scream.
Oh yeah, he knew. Everyone said it was just suggestion and mass hallucination and hysteria. The Scream they'd all heard had been Second Impact and a lot of people had lost their comfortable little worlds, not just Umar Raschif. Tourism? Wasn't going to happen and didn't happen for nearly ten years. People were just too busy surviving.
Worldwide flooding if only by a few feet. There were a lot of areas where the buildings still jutted up from flooded areas like tombstones of the world before the Second Impact. Refugees everywhere. Satellites and computer connections were cut by interference from the event and many species had died off within hours. Tsunami, earthquakes, volcanic rifts pouring out poisonous invisible clouds that rolled through villages and turned them into tombs.
Umar had survived. He came from a long line of survivors, after all. Change comes, and you adapt to it. Those unable to adapt died. It was a cruel and unforgiving world, after all, and there were times for being very extravagant and helpful towards your neighbor and there were times you cut all unnecessary spending off and just tried to survive.
Umar had run into others who had heard the Scream. It wasn't talked of much. Too many people thought you were weird or that you were crazy or just some simple-minded fool to believe in it. Suggestibility was a word thrown about a lot. No, best not to talk too openly about it.
Umar Raschif contacted those still alive and nearby and the word spread that there had been another "shout at the heart of the world" but it hadn't been a Scream this time.
What a "Meow" meant was another question altogether.
The sixteen year old in 1999 had become 32 and fairly respectable by 2015. If you kept your wits around you during the Second Impact, you could eventually pick yourself up and carry on. Now he actually had a large four wheel drive vehicle instead of camels - the maintenence was less and you didn't get spat on or bitten. Umar had helped out the archaeologists back in 1999. Some had survived with help from a little kid of sixteen. He was a nice guy and all, but everyone knew what he was looking for was payback down the road. He'd gotten it, and he'd befriended many of those. Not too close, but enough that he could get his jeep waved through checkpoints and his "select clientele" could get photographs of the really interesting stuff. No touching of course, he had standards and if his clients started stealing things he would no longer be welcome. So small groups, large price or he had to really take a liking to some group but he could get them where regular tourists couldn't go.
Now there was two events that Umar looked over prior to bringing any tourists here. One was in the old ruined city of Bubastis. They'd found a hidden room, though everyone was certain they'd been over that corridor a dozen times. Nonetheless here it was.
Reflectors sent the light in along the tunnel and into the room. Umar stepped carefully past the workers who were going over the ancient script and stared at the statue in the center. It was a statue of Bastet, however instead of the head of a cat, she merely had the ears and tail of a cat. She was dressed as a Queen of Egypt, and her hands were held out. One hand seemed to be in a beckoning pose, while the other held some representation of blood?
"Umar," called one of the scientists, "take a look at this."
Sparing a glance at one of the scientists, Umar noted one of the foreign women sitting and looking very uncomfortable. As well she should, because people were poking at her ears and tail.
Umar immediately caught the resemblence between the Bastet statue and the girl.
"How is this possible," Umar asked.
"I made the choice," said the girl. "I chose life."
"I made the choice," said another girl. "I chose to remain myself for however long I've got."
Umar frowned and turned back to the statue. On meeting those eyes, he knew.
Red goo or loss of humanity. Choose a path.
Then it was over, question and answer taking less than an eyeblink.
Umar looked down at himself. He'd always been in good shape, now even more so. He was a survivor and he chose to adapt. He'd have to bring it up from 10%. Apparently many of those present had either not looked as carefully as he had, or had not chosen. Three looked more fit than he remembered. Probably they'd chosen without realizing they had even been faced with a choice. "I think perhaps that I should lead tourists here for even less than my usual fees."
"But we don't know what caused this," argued a scientist.
"I do," answered Umar. "I have seen the ruins that rose a few miles away. Now I know why they have risen. The choice is simple: adapt and survive, don't and suffer. I think it is time to adapt again."
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(Posted Mon, 01 Sep 2003 13:23)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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