Save the Last Bullet for God (16 page)

As the music increased in tempo and
intensity, with only 124 meters left to the exit, Ender made a
mistake. He suddenly walked in the opposite direction, and when he
turned again to go the same way he had before, the light on his arm
suddenly turned red. An alarm followed, and the score was
registered: 124 meters, 8 minutes, 34 seconds to the exit.

Watching himself, Ender spoke with a weary
voice, “I made assumptions in accordance with the paint layers on
the walls, the brush strokes, and the wear on the most-used roads.
I considered the fact that, during constructing, the entrance and
exit of the labyrinth must have been built first with the other
parts added later. However, that’s it.” He laughed slightly.

The second runner was Fatin. He was dressed
in jet black except for thin bands of red on his arms and on his
upturned collar. He approached the entrance with firm steps. After
a little pause to adjust his eyes to the whiteness, he proceeded
with steps that were hesitant, but quick. He did not even touch the
walls. The meter counter declined rapidly as the time moved slowly.
When he arrived at the exit, he paused for a moment, then crossed
the finish line as a winner. The numbers on the screen were frozen
at zero meters, three minutes, fourteen seconds. “Winner!” graphics
now blinked on the screen.

“
Now I’ll tell you how I did it,”
Fatin said. “My elves told me the strategy for the labyrinth well
in advance. They simply held my hand and led me to the
exit.”

At that, silence and tension pervaded the
lounge, and I grew afraid.

Hıdır was third. The cleric had trimmed his
gray beard and was wearing black trousers, a snow-white collarless
shirt, and a dark-green belt. His lips were moving as if in prayer.
He stopped at the entrance and took the first step with a
‘bismillah.’ He then proceeded rapidly with confident steps as if a
bright path was showing him the way. I wouldn’t have thought that
even the ones who’d built the labyrinth could have gotten out of
there so easily. When he reached the exit, the screen again
stopped, this time at zero meters, four minutes, twenty-eight
seconds.

When we turned to him, he greeted us with a
gentle smile and opened his hands. “Sometimes you need to believe
in luck,” he said humbly.

“Greetings to the second best,” Fatin
chuckled. “I’ll send you the pictures of the awards I won.”

Dr. Feryal Özel now entered the labyrinth in
a dark cream-colored suit accentuating her beauty. A pink scarf
completed her outfit. She chose one of the walls and put her hand
on it, and without drawing it away, she began to move, trailing her
hand against the wall as she went. It was a very strange method,
but interesting to watch, especially on the pilot camera. She
navigated the maze in a different way from all the others. She was
proceeding toward the exit, though slowly, and it seemed as if she
was going to take the wrong path at any minute—but she made zero
mistakes. When she reached the exit, the screen froze at zero
meters, ten minutes, forty-three seconds.

In the lounge, we turned to Feryal, even
more surprised than we had been at the previous winners.

Feryal smiled. “In fact, it was very simple,
something my father taught me as a child. If you proceed while
constantly touching one of the walls of a labyrinth, though it may
take you a while, it always takes you to the exit.”

I was next. I took a deep breath as I saw
myself on the screen wearing a blue leather outfit and a black
belt. Although I felt uncomfortable at first, I had become
accustomed to the clothing. I approached the entrance of the
labyrinth and, after a little pause, I took my armband with the
sensor off and attached it to my left shoe. Then, I took off the
shoe and threw it over one of the walls, toward where I thought the
exit was.

I relived those stressful moments, as on the
screen, I watched myself begin the arduous process of proceeding
back and forth down the corridors looking perplexed and aimless. I
had considered the possibility of an elimination or
disqualification but as I manipulated the rules of the competition,
I worried that I was just making a fool of myself. The count on the
clock got higher and higher, and, after a long time and quite a few
attempts, I reached the place where my shoe had fallen. At that
point, I made the logical choice and simply accepted my score. I
didn’t know where the exit was and didn’t want to push my luck by
throwing my shoe in what might be the wrong direction. The display
clock stopped at 251 meters, 18 minutes, 12 seconds.

When the others turned to me, I said, “Do
not ask me anything. That was the best I could do out of
desperation.”

Gizem was the last competitor. She wore a
very nice turquoise outfit that brought out the sheen of her red,
wavy hair. When she passed the entrance, she held in one hand a
folded astrological chart, and, in the other, tarot cards. She was
very focused and confident as she stopped at the first intersection
and proceeded, sometimes looking at the cards, sometimes at the
page in her hand, and sometimes touching a bright red stone on her
neck. This ritual took place at each of the intersections without
exception, and at first she was successful. The meter countdown
proceeded rapidly and I began to feel her excitement: 270, 269,
268, 267—

But then, she came to one more intersection.
She knelt down and spent some time looking at the written pages in
her hand and mumbling to herself. Then there came a sudden faint
movement that only I seemed to notice. Something was there with
her: a thin, gray layer of smoke hovered over the papers on the
floor and changed their order. Like the others, Ms. Gizem probably
hadn’t seen it, because the red light began to flash shortly after
she rechecked her papers and took a few steps. I was shocked, but
no more than she was. The clock read 268 meters, 12 minutes, 23
seconds.

The show was finished and nobody wanted to
talk. We turned the screen off, stood up, and went to our rooms. I
had just opened my door when I heard Fatin whisper, “The problem is
not only to win, but also to decide who will lose.” Moving away, he
turned his back to me and opened his own door. As he entered his
room, a thin, gray smoke followed him before he disappeared behind
the door.

The Exchange

In pitch-black darkness, I suddenly woke up
from a deep sleep with a deep sense of uneasiness. I became
conscious of a dense, sulfurous smell and sensed that there was
something else lurking in the dark.

Though hesitant to move my head, I nervously
began to look around, scanning the empty darkness. Suddenly, two
small, bright-red globules appeared before my eyes. I blinked to
make sure I wasn’t still dreaming. The two red dots faded away
slowly, then reappeared, brighter than before. My heartbeat became
a violent storm and I started to shiver.

A headlight beam of a moving car outside my
window, ripped apart the darkness for a moment, and, in the upper
corner of the room, I saw a creature with its hands on the ceiling,
its feet on the walls, and its head, against all logic, turned
fully backward staring at me. It was still, and its shade was
darker than the darkness itself. My body melted in a wave of
adrenaline. I could neither move nor scream.

Making a crackling sound like that of an
insect rubbing its legs together, the creature crept down toward
the floor in a manner that mocked all the rules of nature and
physics. Suddenly, I jumped when I saw the speed with which the
creature reached the floor. It rose up on its feet without taking
its eyes (now more yellow) off of me. Then it stepped toward me as
its head, completing another full rotation, turned abruptly to face
me. I felt its breath on my skin and suddenly knew the source of
the sulfur smell.

My face was bathed in a cold sweat, my lips
trembling, and my jaw was clenched. Nonetheless, I managed to
speak, my voice trembling in the darkened room. “Who are you?” I
asked.

The creature cast its eyes to the floor and
replied, “Do you still have to ask this?”

My eyes followed the creature’s gaze
downward, and I suddenly shuddered with recognition when I saw its
misshapen tail with thin fur and its cloven feet. Somehow, I
managed to meet its eyes again as I asked the only logical
question. “What do you want?’”

I’m the Devil

I sat in the top corner of the dark room, at
the furthest end that the universe could offer me, deliberately
flexing the rules others imposed. Oktay was suitable for the
purpose I was seeking. I had been staring at this creature for a
long time. “For a long time” is an understatement: I had been
observing these creatures and the community they formed since the
beginning of their existence. It was a flawed, pathetic community
that somehow still managed to surprise me with its unnecessary
self-glorification.

At the beginning of their creation, I had
scorned these creatures mercilessly, but in time, they had improved
themselves. Not having the talent for seeing that future only
increased my anger and cruelty.

I had been perched in the corner of this
room for a long time, spying on the creature called Oktay, and
sharing his reckless sleep. Oktay had a beautiful way of masking
the weird thoughts and outbursts that arose in his mind, but his
foresight distracted me from my usual preoccupation with the sweet
troubles and ambitions of the other seven billion. This is what led
me here.

Whether he was truly ill or not, there was
something in him that hadn’t been noticed or revealed by anyone in
thousands of years, and it filled me with questions. Were the rules
of the game, formed by a universe that I didn’t create,
changing?

The social progression of a community
controlling its destiny and extending its boundaries with the
movement and psychology of a herd, with fear, fanaticism, and the
numerous unbridled human impulses that formed the order I wanted
and had been trying to maintain. An automated system nourishing
itself. I was there to intervene, or at least to see and understand
if the thoughts of Oktay’s “ill” mind could affect or change
anything.

As he awoke, I hoped he wouldn’t wet himself
or scream in hysterics. The sneaky fear of the risks raced through
my mind.

He noticed me and his sudden wave of fear
licked at my face. I rose to my feet, fixing my eyes in a stare—it
was my favorite move. Then I sat beside him. The creature barely
moved as more sweat dripped down his face.

Then, with a courage that impressed me, he
spoke. “What do you want?”

“To eliminate the cliché. Let me tell you, I
don’t want your soul, and I won’t offer you anything in return.” I
was pleased with my ability to joke. I touched him between his
sweaty forehead and hairline. “I want to know what you really know
about this nonsense book.” My tone made it clear that this wasn’t a
request. “And please, tell me all about it without repeating the
nonsense you have been saying on TV.”

I suddenly noticed the freak’s voice
take on a growl, and a thin blue light suddenly appeared in his
eyes. My own inner voice rang in my brain:
Am I losing control?
With an unexpected
strength, the creature turned to me and demanded, “What do you
mean?”

I had
lost control. The
human freak, Oktay, now spoke with power in his voice. “You have
already revealed too much,” he said. “I can sense your desperation.
You’re afraid of me, even in my miserable state. You are afraid of
making a mistake even when you have arranged all the cards in your
favor. This can only mean that you want something very badly.”
Oktay straightened his posture and stared at me.

Without hesitating, I pulled his hair
forcefully and slammed his head against the wall. The dull thuds of
his head mingled with his cries and groans.

“
Maybe you don’t understand,” I said,
pulling his head back. “You were told to prostrate
yourself!”

There was no turning back now; I knew nobody
could stop me. Death was coming. As I punched his face in rage,
blood and bone particles scattered around. His nose had already
lost its shape, and I couldn’t see his mouth, which was covered in
blood. I now held his neck between my hands, preparing to break
it.

Suddenly, I was surprised by the sharp smell
of mint and a thin, weak, lace-like light began to cover
everything. In the peace and calm now dominating the air, I heard
the sound of a reed flute coming from far away.

A hand on my shoulder turned me around, and
I came face to face with an old man in a green robe. He was hardly
distinguishable from the darkness as he stared at me with
light-green, shining eyes that touched me deeply. I wanted to move,
to finish Oktay, but my movements were suppressed by the old man’s
hand’s grip on my shoulder.