Epilogue

The following day, Sayed visited Zubaida and Hasan. He brought over a basket of full of candy and honey cakes and dates.

Mohammed called Zubaida and Hasan into the living room. Zubaida walked in, holding Hasan's hand. She held her head low and looked at the carpet.

Mohammed

Zubaida, Hasan. Your uncle would like to say something.

Sayed cleared his throat. He too looked at the floor.

Sayed

Dearest Hasan, little Zubaida. I am here to ask for your forgiveness.

Zubaida looked up at her uncle. He looked terrible, like he had been up all night worrying. She quickly looked back down at the carpet.

Sayed

Little Zubaida ... I forgot that you and your brother are just children. Your older brother helped me to realize just how fond you were of the Zionist machine. A father would never execute a beloved pet in front of his child. And so, God forgive me, I should not have destroyed the machine in front of you. I want you to understand that I only ever thought of your safety from the Zionists. My brother, your father—peace be upon him—I will never forgive what happened to him, and I would never forgive myself if the same happened to you.

And now, Zubaida heard a strange sound, like a high-pitched bird call. It was her uncle weeping. He turned to walk out the door, and Mohammed embraced him.

Sayed

Please, little Zubaida, I see the hatred in your eyes. Please, do not hate me. You are all I have left of my brother.

Zubaida said nothing. Hasan simply looked confused, for he was too young to even realize what had happened the night before.

Mohammed

Peace be upon you, Uncle.

Sayed

God have mercy on us all.

And Sayed walked out of the house.

Mohammed

You could have said you forgive him.

He was almost dressed for work and was on his way out of the door.

Zubaida

That is up to God.

Mohammed

We'll talk about this when I get home from work. Watch your brother closely.

As soon as Mohammed locked the door, Zubaida went back to her bedroom. From underneath her bed, she took out the small spider-shaped robot, the one Sakr al-Djinni had created just two days ago. She carried it in her arms, like a baby, to Mohammed's room, and lay it on the bed. She took one of Mohammed's laptops, one which he brought home from work, and carefully opened its back panel. After staring at the maze of wires and panels inside the computer, she found what she was looking for—for she had spent the night reading one of Mohammed's computer books—a small chip of memory, of RAM.

She brought the chip over to the spidery robot, and plugged it in to its body.

Mechanical Mujahideen

THERE-IS-NO-GOD-BUT-ALLAH.

T H E E N D