Chapter 18

Saudi Arabia is officially listed as the fourteenth largest country geographically. It controls an incredible amount of oil, but after the invention of the Fusion Cell by John Carter that meant little in terms of the international market. Prior to the invention of the Fusion Cell, oil accounted for nearly sixty percent of its gross national product. Afterwards, oil accounted for only ten percent of the gross national product. It was not that other sectors stepped up to the economic plate, but that the gross national product took a fifty six percent dive nearly destroying the economy of Saudi Arabia.

The economic crash was blamed on the west. There was no one else to blame that would allow the government to survive the crash. For over fifty years, billions of dollars of oil money had flowed into the Middle East. Unfortunately, very little of it had been re-invested into economic development. When the flow of oil money stopped, the royal government nearly fell. The west was blamed for consuming the oil and, when it stopped buying oil, it was blamed for not consuming oil.

Before the economic crash, Saudi Arabia was a very conservative country with strong isolationist tendencies. There is only a single religion practiced there — Islam — and the laws are based on the strict interpretation of Islamic law known as Salafi. Christians and Hindus were allowed in the country as temporary workers, but they are not allowed to practice their faith. After the economic crash, it became even more conservative. Only Hindu workers were allowed to enter the country with the worker usually becoming little more than slave labor.

With the changed economic situation, the country used religion as a means to control the population. It was a very conservative brand of Islam; pursued in a manner reminiscent of the social practices of the Taliban. Religious rhetoric grew and the country became the largest source of religiously motivated terrorists. While countries like Iran, Iraq, and Somalia might be dangerous for visitors, at least visitors were allowed. Uninvited visitors to Saudi Arabia could expect to be treated very harshly.

Oscar stepped out of the Land Roamer and looked around at the decaying petroleum infrastructure that surrounded him. Chemical factories with huge pipes that slowly rusted in the dry climate were surrounded by apartments that had not been maintained. The entire area was another sign of the general economic decay of a country rotting from the inside.

Shading their eyes from the bright sunlight, Georgia and Debbie stepped out of the Land Roamer. Moving around the vehicle, they went to where they stood beside Oscar. Taking in the ugly scenery, Georgia said, “What an ugly country.”

“You should not be out here without your Burka,” Oscar said looking over at the two women. The appearance of two women wearing western style clothes had captured the attention of a large number of people. It was not the kind of attention that most women would embrace.

“We’ll be safe,” Georgia said giving him a dark look. She had sworn that she wasn’t going to wear the Burka ever again. She glared at the gathering crowd as if daring them to make a big deal out of her clothes.

Oscar stared off into the distance and then nodded his head. Rather than fight with them over the matter, he said, “I guess it will work out all right in the end. Debbie, do not be surprised by what happens.”

Debbie stared at Oscar blankly and asked, “Surprised by what?”

Frowning at what his vision had shown him, Oscar answered, “Don’t worry about it. Everything will work out for the best.”

Puzzled by the mixed messages he had given them, Debbie and Georgia watched Oscar head over to the Mosque. Only after Oscar had entered the Mosque did Debbie look around at the people staring at her. Seeing the expressions on the faces of the people in the crowd around them, Debbie nudged Georgia and said, “Uh, this doesn’t look good.”

“Fuck them. I’m not wearing a sack over my face ever again,” Georgia said turning to look at the crowd. Almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wondered if it was too late to get the Burkas that were in the car. The crowd looked very hostile.

Ignoring the activities at the Mosque, an old man approached Debbie and Georgia with anger on his face. The idea that two women would violate the law in such a flagrant manner was an insult to everything in which the man believed. Two women walking around in public without a male escort was wrong. Wearing western style clothes in public like that was wrong. Either offense was punishable by death. Pointing a finger at them, he shouted, “You defy the law!”

“I do not defy law. I am not chattel to be controlled by the likes of you,” Georgia said at the limits of her self control.

Debbie, beginning to fear what was going to happen, said, “Get away from us.”

The man reached out and grabbed Debbie’s blouse. With a yank, he pulled the cloth. Her blouse tore open; baring her breasts to view. Before either woman had a chance to react, the tattoo on Debbie’s chest shimmered for a second before the ghostly figure of a knight on horseback appeared between her and the old man.

The knight pointed his lance at the old man and frowned. The horse upon which he was mounted danced in place, but the lance point remained steady; aimed at the old man’s chest. The old man stepped back and stared at the mounted knight. In a strangled voice, he shouted, “Mar Girgis!”

The knight nodded his head in acknowledgement of his name. The crowd stepped back staring at the figure. Saint George, called Mar Girgis or Jirjis, was well known in Islamic tradition. Saint al- Khidar, a companion of the Prophet Muwsa Moses, was associated with Saint George. Mar Girgis was a protector in times of trouble. Everyone in the street fell quiet and stared at the scene in front of them.

The voice from the Mosque echoed through the quiet crowd, “The senseless killing must stop. Allah will not tolerate any man declaring Jihad by the Sword in his name.”

The knight smiled at hearing the words despite the fact that his attention had never wavered from being focused on the old man. Debbie was tempted to cover her chest, but she was afraid that if she did so that the knight would disappear. Another man in the crowd shouted, “Allah has spoken!”

The old man who had attacked Debbie asked, “What manner of evil is this when Saints protect a woman who flaunts our laws?”

Another man, staring at the Mosque, answered, “Allah has spoken. The senseless killing must stop. Abide by the words of Allah.”

“The woman must die for violating the law,” the old man shouted with righteous anger. Spittle flew from his mouth as he shouted. He had ripped her blouse and bared her breasts. If she had any decency she would have covered herself. Her lack of action made her a harlot and a woman to be despised.

If no one else would act, the old man decided that it was up to him to make sure that the law was upheld. He knelt down and picked up a rock about the size of a small tangerine. The law allowed harlots to be stoned to death. Holding up the rock, he shouted, “The harlot must die!”

An elderly man with a long gray beard stepped forward and said, “Stop. If you do this, you will set events in motion that will forever change Islam!”

The old man ignored the other and threw the rock. The ghostly figure was surprisingly solid. The rock bounced off of the shield of Saint George and fell to the ground. The knight’s lance reached out and passed through the body of the old man. The man fell to the ground; his lifeless body making a dull thump. Everyone stood staring at the scene in stunned silence.

Georgia stared down at the body of the dead man in shock. There wasn’t a drop of blood, but the man was obviously dead. In an angry voice, she said, “The Burka is custom, not law!”

The elderly man with the beard stared down at the body. A saint had interfered with the enforcement of the laws concerning the proper deportment of a woman in public. It could only mean that the laws were flawed. In a flat voice that did not give any clue to the trepidation that he felt, he made a cutting motion with his hand as he said, “Islam is forever changed.”

Upon hearing that pronouncement, the knight flickered and then disappeared. The tattoo returned to Debbie’s chest. She covered her breasts with the torn pieces of her blouse. The crowd stared at her trying to make sense of what happened. No one moved to raise a hand against the two women.

Word of events there would spread across the Islamic world. The interpretation of what had just occurred would be debated by Imams for years. It would be argued that the laws had been overturned by the actions of Saint George. It was unclear if the changes applied to clothes, the need for an escort, or with both clothes and escorts.

Oscar stepped over to Georgia and looked down at the body of the old man. The crowd stared at Oscar and then at the Mosque before turning their attention back to Oscar. Many found it difficult to believe that while Allah had spoken, their attention had been on the women.

Shaking his head, Oscar asked, “Why is it that change must always come at such a great cost?”

The oasis, not marked on any map, was a small body of water surrounded by date palms. It was less than two hundred miles from the oasis to Mecca, the spiritual center of Islam. Avoiding the sandy desert, roads had bypassed the oasis. The result was that the oasis was unoccupied for most of the year. Only the handful of individuals who traveled the old trade route on camels came there.

Oscar stopped the Land Roamer and turned to the pair of women in the backseat. He said, “We’ll spend two days here.”

“Why two days?”

“Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. I thought it would be nice if we spent the day giving thanks for all we have,” Oscar said.

“Really? I guess I lost track of the dates,” Georgia said with a sigh. It seemed to her that time was flying past. She looked at Oscar and asked, “Have we been doing this for more than a year?”

“Yes. We’ve been on the road for fourteen months; almost fifteen months now,” Oscar answered. They’d been to twenty eight countries in that time. They had another three to go before the end of their journey. He climbed out of the Land Roamer and looked around.

Georgia and Debbie stepped into the hot air and looked around at the sand, palms, and pond. While the city they had visited had looked decrepit and old; the oasis looked timeless. It was an amazing contrast. Debbie said, “This is like some place out of the Arabian Nights.”

“Yes, it is,” Oscar agreed. Images of an old silent film showing a Sheik of Arabia camped out at an oasis came to mind. All that was missing was the silk tent.