Babylon is Us

Relationships are like terrorism. Both thrive on ultimatums and casualties.

His Perspective.

It was the magical summer of the coolest ’90s—a time of peace, Friends reruns, and Backstreet Boys (or fine, fine, N’Sync, if that’s your flavor). Some folks will always remember that era like that, and they wouldn’t be wrong. But Zaki wasn’t thinking about future people.

He wasn’t really thinking about his own era either, even though he was smack in the middle of those very ’90s right here, right now.

The kid didn’t care much for big abstract thoughts. His mind never could quite pull itself together, for a whole bunch of reasons. He’d heard them a hundred times from the grown-ups around him, but he didn’t get what any of that had to do with him, or why he was supposed to be worried about it.

Right now, he was offering up his soft little cheeks to the ticklish fingers of the sun, and smiling as the breeze messed with his curly black hair, like it had a personal grudge against neatness.

His mom was always serious about his hair.

Every time they went out, she’d hand him a comb. But he’d drop it, every single time, and never managed to use the damn thing properly. That meant the great responsibility of grooming his royal curls fell on one of two people: his caregiver Abda, or his big brother Namir. Namir, for one, never took that job seriously—and more often, he’d just laugh, ruffle Zaki’s hair even worse, and say he wished he had such glorious curls.

He was kinda lying, though. His own hair, even if not as thick, was something he was pretty proud of. Namir had started going gray early, but it didn’t stop him from taking excellent care of what he had—he’d always gel it up real smooth whenever he stepped outside.

To Zaki, his brother was the blueprint (he’d just learned that word and really liked it) for cool. Namir always rocked the trendiest shirts and ripped up his jeans at the knees to look even cooler in the eyes of his baby bro. His beat-up Converse sneakers with untied laces made him look more like a chill skater than a future graduate of some fancy aviation college.

What exactly that -college- was—Zaki had no clue, and didn’t really wanna know. What mattered was that soon his brother would be soaring through the skies better than any bird in the world. Only real pilots could do that! Namir had said a million times that once he got his own plane, the very first passenger he’d take up would be his little brother. And Zaki couldn’t wait for that moment!

And yeah, it was all about that moment, not some vague day in the future, ’cause Zaki didn’t really tell one day from another. Same went for hours or minutes or whatever. He couldn’t feel time.

Didn’t know what it meant, really. For him, time and history were all just one big -right here, right now.-

His eyes looked ahead, following the neat lines of trees, and he waved at them as if they’d waved first. When he saw a couple of little dogs scrapping over something, their owners all stressed out, he totally got what they were fighting about. Obvious. Turf war.

Whenever they walked through Central Park together, he had more fun than anyone, ’cause every little moment felt like a scene from a never-ending movie made just for him—a thousand micro- episodes flashing by.

Zaki saw a pigeon and immediately asked it how to get to the main alley, and the bird answered in Namir’s voice that pigeons don’t really walk—they fly—so it didn’t have time to deal with such nonsense.

Or sometimes he’d hop along with a ball, bouncing back and forth between a bunch of people tossing it around, and he was absolutely convinced that it was the ball playing with the crowd, not the other way around. The ball giggled and laughed like it was alive. And honestly, it was full of life—at least for Zaki.

Sometimes passersby would glance sideways at him and shoot puzzled looks at Namir, like—what’s up with your little sidekick? But Zaki didn’t think about that at all. His thoughts never really stayed in one place. They learned to fly way faster than his big brother ever could.

What really fascinated him was seeing. He was tight with his vision, best friends for life, trying not to miss a single detail. His eyes were especially locked in whenever Namir pulled out his yo-yo and started doing -walks the dog or any other trick. Maybe, Zaki thought, if his brother didn’t end up flying planes, he could definitely become a world yo-yo champ.

The loop spun out and zipped back.

The boy’s pupils chased that -dog- and its -leash- like they were under a spell, and for a second, he wanted to be the owner of that little doggie. But his own hands always dropped things, and he knew deep down that Namir was an unreachable mountaintop—an unbeatable yo-yo master of the Universe (whatever that was)!

Imagine Zaki’s surprise when the toy stopped spinning, and instead of savoring the tension of that perfect little string, Namir just froze—eyes glued to some girl lying on a blanket. Zaki couldn’t figure out what was so special about her. Just a girl. Reading a book.

With a shrug, he turned his attention to a snail crawling toward the stem of a blue flower—maybe to strike up a convoy. The kid really wanted to watch that whole romantic scene unfold and see how it all ended. But Namir tugged his arm, pulling him closer to that very ordinary girl with the book.

As they got near, the guy awkwardly coughed, trying to get her attention. It worked. Both she and the dreamy little brother looked up, surprised. The girl even asked:

–Are you sure you’ve got the right address?

Namir turned red and froze. He stood like that for a long while. You might think he didn’t know how to talk, but Zaki knew better. His big bro could talk plenty—and talk well. So, the kid jumped in to help:

–H...i...

The girl raised her eyebrows and looked at Namir:

–What’s the kid trying to say? I don’t understand. Sorry, but that was just gibberish. Apparently, that little comment snapped the future pilot out of it, and he fired back:

–Don’t you dare talk like that about my brother’s speech! It might not be super fluent, but come on—you can at least make out the word -Hi.-

The girl’s gaze slid across his angry face, then shifted to Zaki—and something changed in her. Just moments ago she looked like a total plain Jane, and suddenly she turned into a real fairy-tale princess!

Zaki figured out right away what made her transform like that:

It was her smile. A brand new discovery for him. Man, it was beautiful! But… why was that butterfly green and not brown? Why that color and not some other one?

He forgot the girl immediately and started examining the pretty insect, even if it wasn’t his favorite color. The bug was flapping its multicolored wings so playfully that Zaki suddenly wanted to borrow them and strap them onto his brother’s future airplane. Not to hurt it, of course—not at all! But to politely ask for a temporary wing loan? Why not?

He got so carried away with that idea that he forgot it in a blink and switched focus to the balloons being popped by some misbehaving kid with a needle. The boy’s parents, strangely enough, were cheering the little menace on like proud coaches. Zaki was about to get upset about that, but he got distracted by a loud convo nearby:

–I didn’t mean anything bad about your brother, I swear! You just totally caught me off guard with your sudden and kinda bold invasion of my personal space, and I just don’t vibe with that kind of thing in general.

–Your book. It’s about the technical specs of buildings. That’s the wildest plot twist I’ve seen in a long time.

The girl snorted and shot him a disdainful side-eye, switching to a very direct you:

–Didn’t expect to see a female face interested in science?

–No, no, come on! – He raised his hands, peace mode on. – I just meant it’s refreshing to see someone who’s genuinely into something—especially in the middle of this entire summer chill, nature, and easy fun stuff.

Namir nodded toward a group of teens blasting Nirvana and strumming guitars like there was no tomorrow. But the girl’s eyes didn’t soften one bit. Instead, she narrowed them:

–Feels like you’re trying to butter me up. And flirty types like that? I shut ’em down immediately.

–That happen to you often? – Namir asked with a smirk, which clearly threw her off, though she quickly masked it with extra bravado:

–Beat it. You’re getting on my nerves.

Zaki was puzzled why Namir suddenly looked so bummed by that. The girl shook her fist like she was making a point—not just of her strength, but maybe something else too.

–Str... ong... and pre... tty... – the kid finally blurted out, touching her fist. A ladybug was crawling over her knuckles, fluttering its little wings and pacing in thoughtful circles. And just like that, the angry girl’s face softened into something dreamier:

–That was my grandma’s favorite bug. We used to watch them at picnics and make up stories about where they lived, what their little bug houses looked like. Grandma always said they were dressed up fancy ’cause they were permanently ready for a royal ball. Aww, screw it. You got me, kid. You can stay. Thank your brother, muscleman… what’s-your-name.

–My name is -What’s-your-name. - – The guy said super seriously, and she rolled her eyes with a crooked little smile.

She clapped her hands and declared:

–That’s it, you’ve officially trapped my heart in a net, and now we’re a couple and we’ll live

happily ever after. But you’re still dying before me—’cause you’re gonna laugh yourself to death at your own brilliant jokes.

Now it was the joker’s turn to smile. He gave a mock-serious bow and placed a hand on his chest:

–I’m Namir. And you are?

–Lois. And don’t even start with the Superman jokes, alright, Comedy Genius?

–Never read the comics and never watched the movies or shows. – The guy said, a little apologetically, and she gave him big thumbs up:

–That’s it! You’ve officially won me over. Sorry, DC fans, but I can’t stand that superhero crap.