People of Mars (14 page)

She dried herself and
dressed. She rubbed her hair, while she searched for the right
determination to get out of there with any excuse; the faster the
better.

Finally, she felt
ready. She tossed the towel to the floor. Yes, she could make it;
what was the problem? It was late and they both had many things to
do. Confident, she opened the door that connected the bathroom to
the remainder of the quarters.

She didn’t see him
right away. The bed was empty, as she had left it. The wardrobe was
closed. It seemed like he wasn’t there, then she heard a murmur and
lowered her gaze. And she froze.

Hassan was kneeling on
a rectangular carpet with his arms stretched forward and his face
on it. He raised his upper body and, whilst continuing to look
down, resumed murmuring an obscure prayer. He repeated a series of
movements and words a few times, apparently unaware of her
presence.

There was something
fascinating in those gestures. Anna kept on staring at him during
such a private moment. She could see a side of him that for some
reason was abhorrent to her, because it was the symbol of
everything she hated, but at the same time she couldn’t help but
admire the harmony, the palpable devotion, the expression of a
relationship with something intelligible that aroused her
curiosity. And perhaps even some envy.

He rose onto his knees
once more and a moment later his eyes turned in her direction.

Anna gave a start and
moved back, feeling caught, afraid, in danger. “Sorry,” she
muttered. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Hassan’s face relaxed
in a half smile. “You don’t disturb me at all.” He turned to the
window, from which faint rays of sunlight filtered. “It’s been a
while since I did it.” He looked at her again. “But today I woke up
with the desire to get closer to God.”

She didn’t know what
to reply to those words, nor if he expected her to do so. With a
certain amount of surprise, she realised that her impelling desire
to leave his quarters had become a little less urgent. It had all
been a great deal worse in her mind than it actually was. She
didn’t know whether such awareness was good. She feared she might
be on the point of falling in a trap. Or perhaps she’d already
fallen into it without realising.

“Come,” Hassan said,
standing up and holding out his hand to her. “I want to show you
something.”

An invitation she
couldn’t refuse, not without a good reason.

Hesitating, she
followed him again to the unmade bed, where he sat and started
searching in the closet beside it. Eventually he took out an
object, which captured Anna’s attention. She found herself seated
beside him, watching what he was holding in his hands.

“Is that a … book? I
mean, a real one, a paper book?” She hadn’t seen one for more than
ten years and had almost forgotten the peculiar fascination that
such an object, such a rare one, had always caused in her. But she
had never seen one like that.

Hassan handed it to
her and she took it, eager for such a contact. The cover was rigid,
but the surface delicate to the touch.

“It’s a refined
edition with a leather cover, published more than sixty years
ago.”

Leather. That was the cause of that feeling. Anna
let her fingertips run along the spine, and then, after laying the
book on her legs, she examined the front, lingering on the golden
letters of the title. It was then she realised what was written,
and her hand, as if pushed by its own will, pulled away, as if it
had got burnt.

The Holy Quran.

Surely, Hassan must
have noticed her sudden gesture, but he didn’t react in any way. He
reached out and opened the book in the middle. It was still on
Anna’s legs, and with a certain amount of indecision, she took
courage and helped him to keep it open. The feeling of the paper on
her fingers was fantastic.

“My grandfather gave
it to me when I was ten.”

“But it’s in English,”
she replied. Only now had she noticed that.

“
Well, my English has always been far better than
my Arabic.” He paused for a moment and Anna heard him smile, even
if she wasn’t looking at his face. “
Fault
of my mother, I suppose. And this was the first copy of the
Quran in English that my grandfather bought, after moving to
Canada. A purchase with a symbolic meaning, to unite his origins
with that which would have become his new homeland.” He appeared to
linger on that thought. “Many years later he gave it to me,” he
concluded.

Now it was Anna’s turn
to smile. She had imagined a little Hassan with the same shameless
expression she had seen on him hundreds of time since when they
first met.

While she was
distractedly browsing the pages, something a little thicker slipped
out from the bottom of the volume. She opened the book by that
strange bookmark and found an e-photo. It animated at her touch,
revealing the image of a young couple: he was no doubt
Middle-Eastern; she had snowy skin, golden hair, and eyes the same
colour as the sea. They were smiling, happy; beside them a sailing
boat.

Anna turned to look at
Hassan and thought she could glimpse a hint of both of them in him.
“They’re your parents.”

He nodded. “A long
time ago.” He was watching them with affection.

“Can I?” she asked,
reaching out with a finger to the photograph.

“Go on.”

Anna let her index finger slip from right to left
on the surface of the device, as thin as an open
folio
, but much
smaller. The next image depicted Hassan, not very different from
how he appeared now, with a couple. Another image of joy. The man
was younger than he was, but they looked quite alike. She was
shorter, with Asian features as well, wearing a beautiful ethnic
dress, with a finely decorated veil covering her hair.

She was having
conflicting feelings over the image. She could acknowledge its
beauty, but she felt compassion for that young woman, forced to
dress up in such an anachronistic, chauvinist way.

“My brother and my
sister-in-law, on the day of their wedding, seven years ago. They
have two children now.” The last bit of information sounded like a
merit.

As she wanted to close
the subject, Anna went on, and there she stopped again, to grasp
the meaning of what she was seeing. They were no doubt Hassan’s
parents again, only they seemed to be over fifty. His mother’s eyes
shone with the same azure light, but her hair were hidden by a
veil.

“Your mother is
Muslim?” She couldn’t help saying that, even if it was a rhetorical
question.

“She converted before
marrying my father.”

“Ah …” That sarcastic
cry escaped from her mouth a moment before she could repress it.
She felt she had exaggerated, but also that she had every reason
to. His mother had to convert to marry his father. Although the
lack of her own faith couldn’t really allow her to comprehend its
extent, she perceived in that deed the echo of an abuse.

“My grandparents were
a bit old-fashioned and she decided to make them happy. It was her
choice,” Hassan explained, replying to her unexpressed thought. “I
guess she’s a good Muslim, unlike me.” An amused tone just emerged
from his voice.

For a split second
Anna had the feeling it was a kind of test and she was under
examination, but her curiosity prevailed.

“
And does she
always
wear a veil?”

“She wears it often in
certain public situations. This photo was taken at my brother’s
wedding, too.”

“Ah …” Again that
unintentional cry. “Let me guess: oddly enough, all those with your
grandparents.”

“My paternal
grandparents are both dead.”

Anne remained
speechless at her gaffe. He had mentioned them using the past, just
a while earlier, but she wasn’t listening with due care. But, when
she turned to look at him, Hassan appeared still to be having a lot
of fun.

“I guess I must go,”
she said.

“Do you guess so?”

“I need my …” What
could she need? “Hairdryer,” she added, touching her wet hair.

Of course, there was
an identical one in Hassan’s bathroom, but he avoided pointing that
out.

Sitting on a stool, her elbows resting on the
counter and her hands supporting her head, dejected, she looked at
the images from the microscope on the screen, then at the results
of the analyses on her
folio
,
and tried to make sense of it, in vain. She felt that the answer
was before her eyes, but her head was elsewhere, preventing her
from seeing it. Or believing in it. She needed a fresh mind to
analyse everything with tranquillity.

That was why she had
sent the data to her French colleague, Aurélie Faty, asking for her
opinion. They had been good friends during her brief stay in Paris;
doubtless, she would treat them with the necessary confidentiality.
Those at NASA wouldn’t appreciate Anna turning to a laboratory of
ESA without informing them, but in all honesty, the Americans’
opinion was not of any interest at the moment. She wanted to keep
busy. Conducting her research was the only way to succeed in such a
purpose.

A faint noise behind
her made her turn. Robert was at the laboratory’s entrance,
hesitant. He smiled at her. “Hi, can I talk to you?” He offered her
one of his grins. Only two days had passed, but she felt like she
hadn’t seen him so calm for a century.

“Sure.” She smiled
back to encourage him.

Robert moved close to
her, with a slow pace, as if he was trying to prolong the time
before having to speak. He placed a hand on the counter, looking
away from her, then he sat on a stool as well.

“I guess I must
apologise,” he started, finally being able to look her in the eye.
“Sister.”

She made a sign with
her head. He had caught her by surprise and she didn’t know how to
interpret his visit. She wanted to know if he was okay. He seemed
nervous, but not altered. That was already good news.

“I’m sorry. I was
upset and I got annoyed with you. I … well, I’m sorry. I haven’t
been myself the last two days.”

“Okay,” she murmured.
He was too calm. If he was taking something stronger than some
smoke, the fact that he was so tranquil could mean he was high. His
dilated pupils confirmed her suspicion. “I’d like to help. You
can’t go on like this.”

“I know.”

“I’d like to be able
to count on you as mate in this mission, as friend.”

“It isn’t so simple.”
Robert started rubbing his hands. A faint smile dawned on his
mouth.

“Let yourself be
helped to get rid of your addiction. We will help you.”

“
We
?” His expression turned grim for a split second, then he
seemed to regain control.

“I,” Anna amended, and
reached out to place a hand on his, which finally stopped
moving.

“I’d be happy if you
helped me.” He held her hand tight.

“Have you been for
your check-up in the infirmary this morning?” It was better not to
name Hassan. “When I went there, you hadn’t showed up yet.”

Robert nodded smiling.
Changing the subject of the conversation had been a good idea.
“Healthy as a horse. No strange masses.” He blinked at her.

“Good,” Anna
commented. “So it is limited to Dennis.” She sighed. “In a way it’s
good news, given that he was already ill. We just have to
understand the origin of his decline.”

“I’ve checked the
radiation level inside the rovers, in the warehouses, in the common
premises, including the communications room.” He looked like the
usual old Robert, focused on his job. “Everything within the normal
ranges. No peaks. You can view the data from the server.”

“The same applies for
the laboratories and the greenhouse, but anyway he didn’t frequent
them that much. Actually, I can’t remember at all the last time he
was here.”

“Hassan is now
checking the quarters.” At least he had been the first one to say
that name. “In my opinion, he won’t find anything.”

Anna emitted a cry of
assent. She wasn’t really interested in the whole matter,
considering she was fine. It was just a way for having a normal
conversation. She was missing her chats with Robert. But there was
something unnatural with that one. They were both on the alert,
cautious not to say something wrong. It was exhausting.

“
What are you doing?” he asked, pointing to
the
folio
.

That was a perfect
subject of conversation.

“I’ve repeated the
analyses on the new samples collected yesterday. Do you remember
our presumed fossil bacterium from the crack in the rock?” He
nodded. “I’ve found the same thing in the new sample, which doesn’t
surprise me. It’s the one on the left; the image comes from the
scanning electron microscope.” She made a sign to the wall with her
eyes. “Or rather, what you’re seeing is one of the many crystals
creating those azure organelles within the rod-shaped formation
visible with the optical microscope.”

The screen was split
in two parts. On the left was a three-dimensional structure,
apparently spherical, but which was actually polyhedral, made up of
many tiny facets. The image was in black and white. It wasn’t,
therefore, possible to see the azure colour.

“As you can see, they
weren’t organelles, but piles of these nanocrystals. The analyses
have confirmed the presence of high concentrations of beryllium and
of the usual components from the Martian regolith. There is nothing
organic, let alone biological. Some substances might come from the
degradation of bacteria, but the contrary might also be true. In
short, we don’t know any more than we did earlier.” She’d hoped the
analyses on that sample would’ve offered different results, given
that it was the reason she had gone down there again.