Chapter XXXIII. A Plastic Painting

Yusuf Pasha’s neighborhood in Al-Fatih district of Istanbul is bustling with traffic, vitality, and shops, centered on the tram line station, and within a stone radius of the famous Aksaray Square and its subway station.

At 10:00 a.m., the subway stopped at the station from Yenibosna Station, a distance on the Ataturk International Airport line.

An Arab girl came down in her late twenties, of moderate height, a sport body, long black hair as soft as silk, clear white skin, semi-round face, natural nose as if drawn by the most skilled plastic surgeons, clear black eyes, no make-up, believing in her beauty, confident by herself, in a white shirt and ripped blue jeans, she walks slowly, in no hurry, though he has just come, after an absence of months.

Usually as any Syrian girl from the city of Aleppo, whose women are famous for their beauty, and they know how beautiful they are. It is okay to be a little late, let him wait, for she has been waiting for him for months.

She told herself: He says he is coming from the airport! I asked him to meet in Yenibosna, it is on the way between me and him! Why did he insist on bringing me to the office here! Well, wait a bit more.

A feeling she had always had after each return, not coming from outside Turkey, at least not from the airport, his movements are vague, no one knows where he goes and how, or when he will return and from where.

An Arab young man, who says that he is from southern Syria, at least this is what his passport shows, and this is what his dialect, which is close to the dialect of the people of southern Syria, says. In his early forties, tall, white-skinned, moderate in body, brown eyes, light beard, Bald-headed, kind-hearted, romantic, dreamy, likable, and very mysterious.

He suddenly disappears under the pretext of travelling, turning off his phones for long periods without a trace.

She has been working for him since she applied for a job through a recruitment site years ago. She runs his company in Istanbul, which does not need anyone to manage it at all. A small public service company, a smaller office on the fourth floor of a commercial building in the area, makes nothing, and she does nothing.

However, he continues to spend more money on it, constant losses to no avail.

She used her time in the office in her favorite hobby, making its hall a studio, and the small office attached to it a masterpiece.

Recently, he started making some money. Finally, a website for an organization that includes many dreamers and madmen, and who are similar to them, called it “we are not from here”, its goal is to conduct many research and studies on ways to deal with the human mind, directing and controlling it, through the virtual world. He sells these researches for very large sums to research and studies centers. Or so he says.

No one knows anything about the thousands of its affiliates. She does not have the authority to track them, or track their information. Sometimes she is asked to communicate with each other under different names, and to monitor their movements on the site, for the purpose of analyzing their thinking and mood swings.

The three-management team on the site is prohibited from participating in their own names, and they are prohibited from entering it in unencrypted ways, and they are prohibited from communicating with him or with each other regarding work except through an encrypted application for conversations, which he did specifically for them. He claims that many study centers are lurking with them, to obtain on anything about their internal working mechanisms and the data they have.

The three-management team at the site is headed by her, under her pseudonym “the Streptopelia”. As for “the Hoopoe”, she only knows that his name is Mousa, and he lives in Palestine, but he has a close relationship with him before she even works for him.

Natasha, under her pseudonym “the Phoenix”, is Ukrainian and speaks fluently Arabic, English, French and Turkish in addition to Ukrainian and Russian. She is often found in Istanbul, she does not know where he came from, she suddenly appeared in his life not long ago, charmingly playful, hard-hearted, very practical, as if she has no feelings, her looks at him say that what is between them is much more than work.

Screw her! Where did she come from without even warning? Is there a relationship between the two of them? She was always so preoccupied with this.

Despite all the ambiguity, the work is completely legal, he has a license for research and studies, he pays his taxes, his financial obligations, he is affiliated with press and human rights associations.

And the most important thing for her is himself, he is neither deceitful nor bad for her, as long as he supports her, supports her, she trusts him blindly.

She came out of the main door of the station, turned left, crossed the street towards Yusuf Pasha’s little garden at the other end, across the alley by its fountain, stopped at a pastry shop, packed as usual at this time of the morning, and waited for her turn.

Her phone rang she ignored it.

rang again

She replied: Hi Nader, I have arrived, wait a bit.

Nader: Where are you now?

With a childish laugh that always absorbed his anger: At the pastry shop, aren’t you hungry?

Nader: We can send the building concierge….

A moment of silence. He retracted what he said: Fine, do not be late.

The building concierge? That man who keeps the floor mat and cups of coffee and tea on his hands all day! He shakes hands with ten people every minute, goes around all the offices of the building constantly to meet the needs of the employees, does not wear gloves, and does not sanitize his hands, what a stupid idea.

This girl sanitizes her hand after shaking hands with any human being. She washes the fruit ten times before eating it, its sensitivity to light is high, and to cold gloomy colors, very clean, its body shining like a diamond, she wants everything perfectly in place, but in a mess.

At first it was hard for him to understand her, but he began to, she requires the order of randomness, the order of the universe.

He got up from behind his desk, looked around, chaotically scattered pieces of furniture and decor in different bright colors!

This whole mess, it took her days of thinking and working on it, to put every piece in its place, its management is chaotic but with order, and the order here is her own mood.

Amazingly, though everything around him is random, something of the magic of hermetic system appeared in it!

He headed towards the wall which was decorated with many paintings!

He smiled as he looked at the studio in the outer hall, each of these paintings she painted here, enjoying very much observing them immersed in the colors.

Her spiritual intelligence is high, as every other plastic artist, he holds the paint brush, and does things, lines and colors, he does not know what he is doing, or what he wants, he only paints, his hand and mind are just a tool, and something else inside him moves it.

At the end, their paintings are sold at the most expensive price. She once told him, the reason for the distinction of fine art is that the painter paints with his soul, not with his hands.

And every time she grabbed her brush and started doing things on the canvas, he felt her telling the story of his life, he just always did things, he did not know why and what would result be, but he just wanted to do them.

His motto when things come down is, go with the wind, let it take you where it wants to go.

He stood before a mediocre painting, a bridge suspended in the sky, punctuated by chaotic colors, a bit of haphazard smoke, and what seemed to be flying leaves.

When she painted this painting, she stood in front of it for a whole day, she almost went crazy, the painting was complete but something was missing in it.

In the end, it was this deficiency that relieved her of finding it, a red dot in the lower-left corner of the painting! It fell right under what appeared to be a leaf.

That is crazy, it was actually completed by it!

She carried the painting home with her and kept trying to understand why.

He did not sleep that night, every time he closed his eyes, his phone rang, to start again talking to him about that point, trying to understand why the painting was completed with it!

She is divorced because of what she called his hyper-realism, he does not believe in the soul, is devoid of feelings and emotions.

She always told him, “You are the only one in this world who is willing to stay up all night hearing my madness and help me understand.” And he was like that, he loved her madness, and he wanted to listen to her.

Since that night, he stands in front of this painting whenever he comes back; they have not yet understood the secret of this dot! It seemed to be in its rightful place, as if the painting was inhabited by the spirit of life.

He looked at it deeply, smiled, tilted his head a little, and said to himself: Yes, right, I knew that one day I would decipher your mystery.

-Moments later, she entered the door, threw a bag of pies on the office table, and with all enthusiasm, she said: Hello Nader, thank God for your safety, when did you arrive?

-Nader: Nasrin, hello, I miss you, I came straight from the airport here.

-She laughed cunningly as she shook his hand: Yes, yes, I am trying to believe you

And with feminine cunning, she added: Where did you take her?

He understood what she meant: I really was outside Turkey; I have not seen any of you since the last time.

Nesrin: And when she was disappearing, she was not with you?

Nader: We were not together, she said she goes on family visits, anyway she is coming in a little while you can ask her.

She laughed at the top of her voice, in a suspicious tone, as if she were a police investigator: Also? Why did not she come with you from the hotel to here directly? Well, what it is not my business, the important thing is that you had fun.

Nothing in this world is as frightening as the feeling of a plastic artist, who is ready to stand for days contemplating the wall!

Natasha was really with him every time he traveled outside Turkey, she was also with him last night, they arrived two days ago, he left her at the nearby hotel getting dressed and will come any minute.

Moments later, she entered the door, with all her prestige and cruelty

-Hi Natasha

-She raised her eyebrows and shook hands with her: Hi Nasrin, I miss you

She sat without greeting him, so deliberately, she wanted to say, no need to shake hands with him, I was with him all night, I kissed him in the morning before he came here.

He sighed as he moved away from them a little, “damn women”.

He began by giving his introduction: Well, we have a new project, we have a lot of money, but we want more of it, why?

He answered himself: So that the customer realizes that the work is valuable, just as every participant in the site pays his subscription fees to feel the importance of being in a private community, with no one entering it. Today’s customer will pay a lot of money, to realize the importance of what we are doing here.

This unconventional task is not for the sake of studies and research, but rather a special task, its goal is clear, and the customer will not pay unless it is achieved.

He grabbed the remote control of the TV screen, connected it to his phone, and shared the target’s picture on the screen.

This is the goal, his name is Robert, from Britain, student in America, Cambridge, studying physics, his father is one of the most important real estate brokers in London, does not believe in the existence of God.

changed the picture: This is his girlfriend Christen, his college classmate, they are attracted to each other, it is very likely that they will have an intimate relationship soon.

Moved to the next picture: His mother, a devout Jew, sees Robert as not a believer enough, she fears he will be like his father, without religion, with no spiritual connection with God, sees his mind as petrified, very materialistic, believes only in the laws of physics, does not believe in the spirit, fears for him atheism.

Nasrin interrupted him: Where did you get this detailed information about him? sure of it?

Nader: From the client…

He nodded at the screen: His mother is the client

He continued: What is required is to inject his mind with religious ideas, and to question him with the atheistic decisions of his conscious mind, especially those which claim to understand the whole universe and the fixed laws. His mother believes that any money she may pay will not be enough in order to save her son from the torments of the afterlife.

We must first make him detach from his physical self, manipulate his mind, strengthen his free self, inject him with a number of religious ideas, and then finish our mission. Once he returns to his mother believing in the existence of God and the divine religions, she will continue with him on his Judaization journey. We will get the money.

She will take care of bringing him to Israel, and there Mousa will stalk him, and he will seize any opportunity to get close to him, the injection will begin, and since we only have him there, he will inject him with religious ideas about the Qur’an, for he is not familiar enough with the rest of the religions.

Natasha will inject him with a second batch, our best option is to return with him from Israel, and inject him during the trip.

Nasrin, your task is to inject his girlfriend, attract her to the site through targeted ads on Facebook, and then make her inject him indirectly. Target specific groups in the advertisement, her residential area, her university college, her age group, her interests, and make the advertising budget open, it will definitely appear to her. She is physical, Let the advertisement be attractive, transparent mind, and space, it will definitely attract her, and after joining the site, you have to take special care of her, and inject her online. Be careful, make the ad visible to females only, Robert is similar to all the targeted groups, we do not want the ad to appear for him as well.

Always remember our motto: Life is a plastic painting drawn by a free self.

And remember as well, whipping the mind is a craft, not everyone can master it; If you get hard on it you lose it, you have to deal with it like a bomb, slowly, do not make it run away, inject it carefully.

Nisrin looked at him: Do you know, every time you ask me to target someone with targeted ads, I wonder if I saw the job advertisement that you posted on Facebook years ago by chance! Or did you target me?

He laughed, then a moment of silence, looked away, laughed more, and left the office without answering a single word.

Natasha looked at him, and said to herself: What a convincing one! She would have believed him, if she had not known the truth of the matter, or at least so she thinks.

Nasrin and Mousa do not know anything about his truth, just tools he uses, he has brainwashed them for a long time already, trained them, they have become like his loyal soldiers who will not discuss him in anything he asks for.

As for her, she feared him at times, but her love for him was greater than her fear of him, she no longer knew who he was, Nader, Baibars, Ozcan, dozens of names he used and uses, he used to role-play, he chose a name that he only says to the taxi driver, and another for the restaurant worker, and another for the cigarette seller, just for fun, he manipulates everyone he meets, not always for a purpose, but just for fun.

Sometimes I wished that I had not taken him to the island of Malta, if I had not accepted that mission, if I had not met him…

Or at least if he remained as I knew him, the good, naive Arab young man

And if I stayed, Katrina.