io9 is proud to present fiction fromLIGHTSPEED MAGAZINE.
Once a month, we feature a story fromLIGHTSPEEDs current issue.
This months selection is Inside the House of Wisdom by Tamara Masri.
© Tithi Luadthong (aka Grandfailure) / via Shutterstock.
When the elevator door opens, its like walking into a quiet circle of glass.
So, as we walk, Im going to whisper.
People are reading, writing, drawingits such a beautiful place to work.
Im probably the luckiest librarian in the world.
Lets start with the east side, overlooking the citys skyline.
How many kites are in the air?
Now lets go to the west side.
The sunsets candy colors, mixed with the blue sea, remind me of Rukab ice cream.
Look at those windsurfers zigzagging around the fishing boats.
On the shore, I see a girl washing a white horse.
Even though this room is a circle, the outside of the building looks like a spiral.
A single helix going up to heaven, was the architects inspiration.
The angel said that our dark times were over, the golden age had begun.
And here we are.
Sixty years ago, during the dark times, this was a destroyed hospital.
Many people lost their lives.
No books or beautiful buildings will ever bring them back.
This was built to honor their lives and everything they sacrificed for our liberation.
Every day when I come to work, I have a morning ritual.
See in the middle of the room, where all the big books are?
Thats the Oversized section.
I go straight to the Tribunal Volumes; there are at least fifty.
I pick one at random and read for a few minutes.
I remember the names, the stories.
Before we move on, youre welcome to go see it.
MARSHALL OF THE COURT:The International Tribunal for Truth and Justice is in session.
The prosecution will now present Exhibit No.
8090 as evidence against the defense.
The exhibit describes a twenty-year-old medical recording, dated April 23, 2024.
The prosecution may now present Exhibit 8090.
START OF RECORDING
This is Dr. Sufyan al Bursh.
The date is April 23, 2024.
The time is 2:29 in the morning.
Patient 1090 was born about an hour ago.
On the tape I wrote, Daughter of the martyr Sabreen al Sakani.
Fathers family name is Joudeh.
Mother, alongside family, was killed in airstrike.
The neighbors who brought her mother in say that the baby has no known living relatives.
Father and older sister, age three, were also killed.
Extended family as well, but were still waiting to see if the rescuers can reach them.
This audio is to be transcribed for the health ministry.
Send another copy to whichever organization is working with the International Court.
Take screenshots of each patient entry.
Requesting the following audio be given to the child, when she is older.
Hello, daughter of Sabreen al Sakani.
Your family name is Joudeh, but I dont know your first name.
Im Dr. Sufyan, I delivered you today.
Now there seems to be a pause in the explosions.
I want to tell you everything I know about you, while I can.
Were at the shore under a white tarp.
Beneath you theres sand, before you the sea.
Its cold outside, but you look warm sleeping in your incubator.
I can hear the waves and the sound of the generator that you are hooked up to.
Youre covered in wires; you look almost as though youre from another planet.
Under the round glass, you look like youre in a lit-up space egg.
Im saying this because I want you to know that these kinds of moments can exist.
Before you were born, I saw you as a small mound in your mothers belly.
She was already a martyr when she came to me, God rest her soul.
But Im a doctor and I took an oath to save you no matter what.
One day I hope youll understand.
Your birth was not really a birth, but like looking for treasure in a shipwreck underwater.
Something calm came over the room, as though it was orchestrated.
A journalist had a camera, maybe you might see the footage one day.
Everything was silent, as though it was just you and me at the bottom of the sea.
I didnt think you would survive.
I scooped the remains of the old world from your mouth.
And then it happened.
Small ribs began to move up and down in my palm like a wave.
A nurse shouted, Miracle!
That was the first word you heard.
My hands were shaking.
Your eyes were open.
Then I realized there was no one to feed you.
I thought I made a mistake; I never wanted you to suffer.
But then the nurse found a new mother in another medical tent.
Yesterday, an aid packet thrown from a helicopter fell through the churchs ceiling and onto the mothers leg.
When I walked into her tent, she was praying to the Virgin, pleading to keep it.
She was so happy to feed you.
I dont know how long shell be able to do that.
Over the horizon of the black sea, I see a light on the water.
I think its the aid pier the U.S. claims to be building.
I cant bear the thought of listening to you cry for milk for days.
What if I cant feed you?
Towards that light or backwards into paradise.
I dont want to lie to you.
I struggle with doubt, with weakness.
I dont know if bringing you into this world was the right thing to do.
When you grow older, if you resent me, you’ve got the option to always call.
And if Im not alive, you’ve got the option to call my three children.
My third, Thawra, the youngest, was killed last month with my wife, Nadia.
They went to get flour from the aid truck.
The sniper shot Nadia in the leg, and then anyone who tried to save her.
I treated over one hundred people that day.
The hardest was my own baby girl.
May God rest their souls, the souls of your familyIm crying nowIm sorry.
The journalist is still here with his camera.
I wont let the enemy enjoy my grief to feed their wounds.
We must have strength.
We must have faith.
My brother Adnan was a surgeon at Al-Shifa Hospital.
They tracked him down, took him to prison.
We were told that they killed him last week.
I recorded the death date as April 19, 2024.
Four days ago, I got a phone call.
They said they were coming, and I was next.
But I cant leave my patients.
I cant leave you.
I wont leave you.
The explosions are starting again.
Ill have to end, but theres one last thing I want to tell you.
A family tree is made from nasl and asl.
Nasl is lineage, your genetic relations, the branches.
Your mothers branch is al-Sakani; your fathers is Joudeh.
Asl is origin, its what you came from, like the seed underground.
Its you and everything before you.
The enemy can always cut your branches, they can even cut the trunk.
But they can never go below and stop the seed from sprouting.
They cannot change the beginning: the fact that you were here, the fact that you existed.
When I held you, I felt no fear, no hunger.
You were a miracle.
You were a victory.
Here the architect chose to preserve the evidence of the dark timesour history.
That is why I come here every morning.
To remember the stories, the names.
Sometimes I can almost hear them, saying:Yes, it is possible.
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