THE DREAM: Sample Chapter

6. Darkness in America – 2051
Life returned to almost normal in the United States. The anger and pain over the destruction of the twin towers of the World Trade Center in New York and the attack on the Pentagon subsided slowly in the hearts of Americans. The memory of long ‘War Against Terrorism’, which took so many lives, has faded. The monument erected in 2005 on the site, where once these buildings stood, became a shrine. The giant memorial column in the shape of a shattered cross, fallen over a smashed Star of David and Islam’s half-crested moon with the Morning Star, were tragic symbols of monotheism. On birthdays, the victims relatives visited this symbolic cemetery to remember and mourn. Some prayed and wept, others just stood silently thinking about loved ones who have never been buried, evaporated into the great unknown by flames. The flowers placed in the forest of symbolic tombstones made the scene serene, peaceful.
This year, 2051, was the 50th anniversary of the destruction of the World Trade Center. The memorial square was checked thoroughly by a bomb squad. Grant Turner, head of the CIA, was confident that no infiltrator entered the United States, and no sign of terrorist attack was detected. He ordered armed guards at the top of each building around the site of the Memorial. He assured President Bolton of total safety. "Mr. President, I can assure you, terrorism is dead. Together with Homeland Security and the FBI we destroyed the global network of terrorist organizations. The war against terror is finished, our country is safe, Mr. President."
"Thank you Grant. Every year, since the tragedy of 9/11/01, this commemorative service honors those who perished and celebrate our strength and successes."
* * *

Nobody paid any attention to a well-tanned young man, Al, wearing a white sports-shirt and shorts, carrying a large icebox toward the beach. Al was born in Canada. His mother was second generation Canadian, a beautiful white-skinned, red-haired, daughter of a German immigrant. Al inherited his fair skin, red hair, and attractive features from his mother. His father, Abi Rabia, was a Muslim refugee from Lebanon. Al changed his name to Al Robinson before he enrolled at the University of Manitoba, Electrical and Computer Engineering Faculty. After the final semester of the third year, he applied for a summer job at SDD. He gave a letter of recommendation from professor Shabri to Dr. Attila Pataki. Attila gave him a summer job at the printed circuit manufacturing section.
After graduation, Al was hired by Motorola and he moved to Chicago. He worked hard, and was rapidly promoted to higher positions, quality control, electronics circuit design, and systems development sections. Motorola got the contract to install digital communication systems for the new buildings at the site of the destroyed World Trade Center, Al Robinson became the Manager of Installation. He moved to New York, and as before, he performed his task to perfection. His superiors were proud of his achievements and wanted him back in the Chicago plant to become the Director of Systems Installations. But Al stayed in New York working for the new center.
Al’s girlfriend, Sally, arrived in time. The rubber boat was already inflated. "Hi Sally," is the ‘gourmet food’ in your basket?"
"Yes. Everything is in good order." Sally Hurley was a typical American girl, dressed for sailing. During the Soviet war in Afghanistan, the American administration sent teachers to set up English schools in that country. Sally’s father, Muhammad Husseini, was one of the brightest student. His professor got him a scholarship in the USA for higher education. He graduated at Columbia University, B.Sc., Chemical Engineering. By then the Soviet Union collapsed and the Taliban ruled Afghanistan. Muhammad Husseini changed his name to Manfred Hurley. He got a job at BASF Chemicals, near New York, and shortly after, married an American girl. Sally Hurley was Muhammad’s beloved ‘American’ daughter. She and Al launched the boat and he paddled far away from the beach, away from sight.
* * *

Mayor Capriano opened the commemorative service. "Every year, since September 11, 2001, we, New Yorkers, gather together to mourn our loved ones at this memorial site of our national tragedy. Please remain silent for a minute of remembrance."
With American military precision, at 8.48 AM, Eastern Time, the somber sound of the Memorial Bell tolled over the bowed heads of the mourners, straight into the hearts of the people. They recalled the horror, the day when the terrorist planes hit the towers. After the somber silence, the Mayor turned to President Bolton to address the people.
Salana Musa, was one of the mourners. He was a young student of the American Theology of Islamic Studies of New York. The members of the Theology gave blood for the injured victims, after the World Trade Center buildings collapsed. Imam Abdullah Manum, the Head of the Theology explained the peaceful teachings of Islam on television, and complained about unjustified acts of revenge inflicted upon Arab Americans. "Many Arabs perished in these towers. We are victims as you are."
Musa stood among the mourners, bowed his head and whispered into his cell-phone, "Mother, if you want to hear the President’s speech turn on your TV."
The President stepped to the microphone and began his commemorative speech. "Fellow Americans…"
"This is it," said Al, and stopped paddling. "Sally, activate the missile."
She clamped the two tubes together, opened the legs of a tripod-like small launching-pad, and latched the missile on it. Everything went fast and flawlessly as planned. "Ready. Light emitting diode is on," she reported.
"OK. Move away, come beside me quickly."
Almost at the same time, the President of the United States of America began his speech.
"Fellow Americans, today, we not only commemorate and mourn our brothers and sisters, the fallen victims of terrorism, but we also celebrate. We celebrate the defeat of our enemies, and we celebrate our spiritual and economic recovery. The American spirit is victorious. We are the most powerful, and the most prosperous, nation on earth. Today, as every day since the coward attack on peaceful New Yorkers, we mourn our dead and repeat our commitment to protect you – to protect all Americans." The President took a short pause.
Nobody paid any attention to Salana Musa. He put the cell-phone into his pocket, and pushed its fake stub-antenna into the set.
The target seeking missile was small, its three main components could be carried undetected in a small suitcase. The parts were in the food basket of Sally. "The homing signal indicator is flashing. Five seconds to takeoff," she reported, and she moved away fast from the weapon.
The small missile hit with devastating force. The memorial stand was blown to pieces. The President and the public dignitaries on the podium were dead and dying, thrown to the ground. The explosion also killed and injured dozens of mourners around the platform. Salana Musa, who sent the homing signal, was among the dead. The imam reassured him, "You will go straight to heaven and be among the angels in the garden of our prophet Muhammad. Allah be praised. Allah is the Greatest." The young fanatic reached his goal – he laid dead, self-sacrificed, among the injured on the blood covered ground. It took a few seconds before the groans and cries of the injured broke the eerie silence that followed the explosion. The mourners, men, women, and parents with children and babies were running away from the site of the memorial in panic, shrieking, calling for help.
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