The Hit Man Assignment- Aminophis

The Apostle

The Reality

    The Apostle knows the stories well, time and time again they were murmured to him in hushed tones at bedtime, recited in bland tones every Sunday as a child, run on a loop in his mind as he daydreamed in the back of school.

    Once upon a time there was a Garden of Eden. But Eve and Adam ate the apple and were banished out of paradise and into the harsh desert.

    One day the Armageddon will come and those who have righteously served God will rise to heaven and rest there in peace for eternity with Jesus.

    Thou shalt not sin. Thou shalt not kill.

    But The Apostle knows other stories too, other truths, other realities. The Apostle knows that when he was in grade school he hid the gold cross on his neck, under his T-shirts, and pretended to kneel and pray with the other children. The Apostle knows his mother hid the families bibles in a locked trunk under her mattress, and that his father did not speak of religion outside the house.

The Christmas Card

    Once when The Apostle was no taller than his dining room table, his cousins living in the United States sent his family a Christmas. It showed a smiling family bundled up in sweaters, circling a large tree decorated with strings of colorful lights, with snow falling in the window outside. The Apostle had never seen snow, nor a tree like that.

    “It’s a Christmas Tree,” said The Apostle’s mother. Christmas tree. Christmas tree. The syllables rolled around in The Apostles mouth like warm tea, making his lips curl upwards as the word drew to a close.

The Name

    Aminophis Faltas Kulta. Faltas, the name of The Apostle’s great grandfather, who was head of a village in the far south, and had numerous sons and daughters, and more grandchildren than there were cattle in the village. Kulta, passed down for generations. The Apostle knows Kultas men are men of their words, work hard, and believe above all.

The Encyclopedia

    The Apostle knows everyone has a purpose. Each soul is charged with the task of creating something lasting for the good of mankind. The Apostle knows his encyclopedia is his task. Though his coworkers give wrinkled forehead smiles when he brings out the mass of grubby pages, The Apostle knows he will finish the encyclopedia and share his gift with the world, so all may see the allure of his holy nation Egypt.

The Politics

    The Apostle does not understand Politics. When he was young man The Apostle’s father was fired from his job around the same time the company’s ads began having “In the Name of the Holy Allah” published before the text- “politics” his father replied. The Apostle figures Politics is for the foolish and idle, and does not understand it.

The Empty Corner

    There is an empty corner in The Apostle’s living room. It is no bigger than a large cat. Someday, The Apostle tells himself, there will be a Christmas Tree there.

The Portrait

    When the portrait of Nasser was proposed to be removed from the wall in the office of The Apostle’s department a woman spoke out against the action. The woman spoke slowly and meekly, but her devotion to the past president was evident. The Apostle did not want to break her spirit, but he did not want to disrupt the Politics he suspected ran in strange undercurrents through the offices. The Apostle wrote a report to the department head describing his crisis. The Politics removed the woman and the portrait of Nasser. Sometimes when his mind wanders in the midday heat, The Apostle wonders whether he will be judged harshly in heaven for shying from confrontation or whether he will be rewarded for not making faulty judgement.

The Files

    The Apostle keeps his seven files meticulously organized in a row on his desk. The Apostle robotically copies out a report each of the seven days of the week, never realizing how his puny efforts feed the incessant machine of transmission.

The Woman

    The Apostle walks to work every day, past the corner with the barber shop and the cart advertising the same scarves as the department store for a fraction of the price. Everyday The Apostle sees the woman. She sits at the bus stop, bags clutched against her chest, knees pulled in tight, black hijab pooling around her ankles, brushing the perpetual mud of the streets. The Apostle hates the woman, hates her for never looking up from the potholed road, never returning his hopeful smile. But The Apostle knows that good things come to those who wait, so he walks by the bus stop everyday, wondering if he’ll ever get a glimpse of the woman's dainty ankles.