Paranoia ✓

XXX: Rashad - Tossing the Boulder (Part 1)

The final chapter of his story would lead him to the capital of the United States. Getting the device through security was easy. The most difficult part was avoiding any giant mistakes that could end up with his premature detonation. He had to transfer to three different airplanes before arriving at Ronald Reagan International Airport. It was there he took the Washington Metro (a mass transit system) towards the place he was going to spend the weekend. It took him nearly two and a half hours to reach Fort Totten, where he was planning to bunk the night with a local resident with ties to the Kabish.

These local residents stationed in America were U.S. citizens who do not engage in any combat situations. Their purpose was to act as scouts and acquire intelligence on new counter-terrorist procedures so that the Kabish could remain up-to-date on outsmarting the enemy. Some of these local splinter cell agents worked within multiple layers of the Federal Government—everything from the State Department to the intern working for a Representative at Congress.

Not letting the length of the train ride slide, Rashad pictured a transit system in the capital of the great American Empire to be way better than the junk that serviced the city. Rashad wouldn't wish such a flawed system to service his worst enemy—considering America was supposed to be it. The trains ran every 30 minutes, there was single tracking at every other station which led to a lot of stallings in the tunnels, which further led to a buildup of riders waiting at the next station and the station after that one etc. This meant a crowded train with people's elbows digging into your kidneys, their backpacks smacking you in the face, and their putrid potpourri smells slapping your noses. Everything from intense perfumes that made your eyes water, to musk that smelled like a skunk defecated before it died, was mixed into the enclosed capsule of death barreling through the tunnel at 50 mph at one point to only come to an abrupt stop in the middle of the tunnel for no apparent reason but to forcefully test people's balance by trying to knock them over.

Furthermore, Rashad couldn't eat on the train, or drink anything because it was banned. Rashad had just come off of three flights totaling 14 hours, and he hadn't eaten anything, since airlines charged movie theater prices for cheap portions of fatty snacks with no energy sustenance whatsoever. So damn it if Rashad wanted to take a bite out of the granola bar he bought at the airport terminal, then he should be allowed to take that damn bite without having to look over his shoulder as if he was about to take a whiff of cocaine.

And Rashad would understand all of it if the Metro was spotless, but is wasn't. In fact, he counted seven people spitting onto the subway tracks as if they were one long trough for garbage—nasty damn Americans.

Then there were mice everywhere—so many the people got used to them, and children found them adorable. The stations were also not well lit, the chairs were basically slabs of cement with a backboard for you to sit on...

Rashad found himself complaining about every little detail of the Metro system—and he felt he had the right to. He remembered Ms. Reyes, a native from the States, mention her love for transit systems. She was a native New Yorker and rode the subway everywhere. She had ridden the Metro in D.C., the tube in London, the L in Chicago, and much more in other cities like Atlanta, Boston, Paris, etc. She had a bunch of fun facts about train systems, like how the New York City subway system was the only one in the world that operated 24/7/365. The oldest subway system was the London Underground system. [30] She used to compare systems, and one comparison Rashad remembered her making was that the Metro in D.C. was much cleaner and faster than the subway in New York.

Rashad couldn't imagine a rapid transit system that could get any more dirtier or slower than the D.C. Metro, but anything was possible in the land of opportunity to screw up.

Which reminded him what he was truly here for and how he couldn't afford screwing up. Throughout the weekend he spent his time alone—praying to Allah constantly for guidance. The only interactions he underwent was the simply formalities and small talk he had with his host, Gary. Gary provided him with room, food, water, and even some spending money for him to go out and spend his last weekend alive doing what he saw fit. Everyone around him had already marked him off for dead. Rashad couldn't help but wonder why it wasn't possible to kill without being killed. Then again, he bet that question had been asked for centuries, and the person who figured that out ended up becoming the top dog.

So his spoken prayers usually went along the lines of, "Hey Allah, I would really appreciate it if your provided a reservation up in Heaven for me, probably a nice spot next to my mother and sister, to worship you forever. Please give me the strength to see this task through, and hopefully my actions will not only change the world, but bring forth peace."

Rashad's inner subconscious couldn't help but grunt at the idea of violence bringing about peace. That was like having sex and expecting not to get pregnant, or jumping into a lake and expecting to stay dry. In either case, the action will usually never produce the desired result.

So why was Rashad about to do this again?

"Just remember what they did to you mother and sister. If you wish for any chance to avenge their deaths, it won't be by sitting on the sidelines. War is ugly, but it is a necessity in order for our faith to survive."

As Jaheim's voice echoed in his mind, Rashad realized that he was definitely more keen on his family than the faith portion; but it was a two for one sale that he couldn't deny was a good deal. Then Rashad thought about it some more and wondered if he would've ever committed himself to something like this if his mother and sister were still alive.

Chances were he'd still be in school with Ms. Reyes who'd be teaching Euclidean Geometry or a history course about the Westerners. Chances were he'd still be walking his little sister to school, kicking a soccer ball back and forth with her on the way there, or picking her up when she grew tired of the long two mile walk to school. Chances were, he'd still be arguing with his mother on whether or not it was suitable for him to still go to school when he was a ripe enough age to start working and making money for the family.

The fact was this: he'd loved to be living in that alternate universe where everyone was alive, than to be here in Washington, D.C. preparing himself to take the lives of innocent people. No matter how much he trained, he knew what he was doing was evil. Stooping down to the enemy's level was disgusting, but to let the enemy destroy you was no better option. There's only so much a person could take before he or she must stand up and defend himself or herself.

So no matter how ugly the thing he was about to do was, it was necessary, as Jaheim had similarly put it. In order for him to survive, he had to be willing to sacrifice himself.

After all, it was about time he decided when to cross the line, rather than let the Americans push him over the line, or shove the line towards him.

Footnote:

[30] Opened on January 10, 1863.