Chapter 1

Once upon a time, in the not-too-distant future, a girl named Zubaida was exploring the ruins of an Israeli factory with her little brother Hasan. Their older brother, Mohammad, never allowed them to explore the ruins because he said they were too dangerous. Of course, this just made Zubaida and Hasan want to explore them even more. So while Mohammad was at work, that is exactly what they did.

Nobody lived near the old Israeli factory. The entire area had been heavily shelled in the most recent war. It was hot and very dusty, and as Zubaida led her brother down the lonely road towards the factory, she had to take care to avoid bomb craters.

Hasan

Sister, look! We are on the moon!

He pulled himself away from her grasp and began jumping up and down and across the smaller craters.

Zubaida

Be careful, Hasan. If you fall down, you will get hurt, and then Mohammed will know we have been disobedient.

The factory was rust-colored and the roof was missing from the front half of the building. Zubaida could see all the big rooms and corridors and disused equipment inside. Clusters of wires stuck out from the broken walls. Glass, red brick and red steel beams littered the dusty ground.

They were thirsty and had no water, and so the afternoon shade under the factory walls was inviting. Hasan sat down against one of them. The wall was open to the outside, but it stretched deep into the factory and eventually became shadowed by the remains of the roof on the far end.

Hasan

Sister, what do you suppose the Zionists built in this factory?

Zubaida

I am not certain. But why does it matter? I am just happy it is destroyed, praise be to God. The less factories the occupiers have here, the better.

Hasan

Did Father help destroy this factory?

Zubaida's father and mother had died just after Hasan was born, when Zubaida was six. Mohammed liked to tell Hasan that their father was a great martyr and died in a battle with the Zionist regime. But in actuality, their mother and father were both killed when a mortar exploded their grocery store.

Zubaida

No. Well—perhaps he did. I do not know very much about his adventures. You will have to ask your brother when he comes back from work.

Zubaida was not nearly as good as Mohammed at telling these stories so she passed them off upon him whenever she could.

Zubaida

But remember not to mention that we were here, Hasan!

Just then Zubaida heard a clatter of metal from the far end of the big room. Its source was a large pile of machinery on the far side of the room. She quickly stood up and squinted into the darkness.

Zubaida

Is anyone there?

The machinery pile was shrouded in the shadow of the ruined ceiling, but Zubaida swore she saw a cluster of little blinking lights. Two of the lights were bigger than the rest, and they looked almost like glowing red eyes.

Zubaida

Is someone there?

There was no answer, but as Zubaida squinted the colored lights became clearer. They were attached to the outline of a thin figure. It had the outline of a head, a torso, arms and legs. Or—did it? One of its arms didn't look quite right. As she looked, the figure retreated a little further into the shadows. But its blinking lights were still visible, like little colored stars in an inky sky.

Hasan

Is it a Zionist?

The boy clutched Zubaida's arm. But she brushed him away.

And as Zubaida walked slowly into darkness, the figure's shadowy form became clear. It was a metal figure in the shape of a man. Its round head had two red lights where a human would have eyes, and speaker where a human would have a mouth. It had a torso and legs, all metallic-colored and tarnished, with blacks rubber tubes visible underneath the metal plates. But only one arm was attached to its body. Instead of a hand, it had three clicking metal pincers. Its limbs whirred and buzzed softly as it moved.


Chapter 2