Hello Friends,

We’ve had some time to reflect on the election results. Some are happy that their candidate won others are not. To be honest I am just glad its over. What happened, happened. This election cycle has been insane. I stopped watching after the first debate and relied on Stephen Colbert to keep me up to date. After the results were announced I went through stages of shock, reflection, and analysis. 

My findings? as Neil deGrasse Tyson so eloquently tweeted  take the cosmic perspective. Some would say that this is high-brow and only an aloof fool would look to the stars for solace when fires burn around him. I beg to differ. I would encourage each and every Man, Woman and Child to take the cosmic perspective. Humble yourself and draw closer to your creator. 

Didn’t work? You still want to move to Canada? Or even better, how about a posh Gulf Country? Sure why not, would be easier. Heck while we are at it why not leave this rock altogether? We could join Elon Musk on Mars and restart civilization. Give it a few generations and we will be right back where we started! But then again, what if?

Remember last month’s post where I gave you story prompts from Islamic History? Well, prompt number six really resonated with me.

6. Pakistan was a nation formed on the basis of Islam. People of different ethnicities banned together to form one nation. In an age where space colonies are within practical reach, what would a colony populated by Muslim refugees look like?

I decided to explore this notion. At the same time, I wanted to step out of my comfort zone. You see I am an adult male I can write characters similar to me easily. So I decided to join a unique writing course. Storied Women, is an online course being offered by the University of Iowa. The point of which is to create stories with female protagonists. My first assignment was to write a scene with a female child. The end result was custom made for ISF readers, so here goes:

A Hiss at the Front Portal

BY SAQIB SADIQ

Sidra woke with a tear in her eye. It rolled down her plump cheek, softly nestling itself behind her ear. The sensation drew her out of her sleep. Through blurry eyes, she tried to comprehend her surroundings. “What was that?” she thought to herself. Still cringing from the image her mind’s eye gave her. She knew it wasn’t real, it’s hellish cry was gone.

Her eyes began to focus. The bright colors of her ludo board greeted her. It was just the way she left it last night. Her pieces had all safely finished while her brother’s hadn’t. And it better stay that way or else baba would know.

She rubbed her brown eyes and gave a satisfied yawn. Where was Ummy? She was always doting on her. Brushing her hair, washing up for breakfast. Her hair was already pretty tangled. And would tug when she ran her fingers through it.

Another yawn and she slipped out of her warm bed. Still groggy she carefully made her way to the mirror. Seeing no sign of Ummy she decided to brush her own hair. And why not? She needed to learn. She was getting older after all. Yanking old hairs from the spikes she began to brush. First one side than the other. All the way to the ends. She slipped on a hairband and walked out the room.

The capsule corridors were strangely quiet. There usually was a clattering of plates from the dining node. The morning breakfast already consumed. Thinking nothing of it she made her way to the bathroom. Soothing pulses helped to get rid of grime that had formed on her earth-toned skinned.

Peeking out in the corridor she called out “Ummy?” hearing no response “Baba?” still no response she considered calling her brother’s name but decided against it. She needed her breakfast first. Skipping along she made her way to the dining node. To her surprise breakfast was neatly laid out. The fluffy stack of parathas beckoned while the savory chickpeas tantalized.

Pinching off a small piece of fried batter she scooped up some chickpeas. The warm spices and buttery goodness melted in her mouth. Her stomach rumbled and she fed it more. Having her fill, she stepped out of the dining node.

Where was everyone? It wasn’t even Friday afternoon, so where could everyone be? Feeling annoyed she returned to her room. Her crayons and pencils neatly laid out on her desk. She began tracing figures. Images of people fleeing. Running scared through the streets. Shattered glass. And it. She stopped unable to continue. How dare it invade her daydream? Wasn’t it bad enough to possess her nightmares?

More tears. She made her way to the ludo board. Maybe she should let her brother finish. Maybe that would make him come back. I should get up early to help ummy in the kitchen maybe that’s why she isn’t here. And baba I should help him with his books more often. I promise to do this I just want everyone back.

But she was alone. And now she knew it. What do I do?

Beep…beep…beep…

The family’s com panel was chirping. She made her way over. Lines of text scrolled by. Baba knew what to do with that. She walked away and headed back to her room. She didn’t want to draw anymore. She didn’t have anyone to play ludo with and her dolls were boring. She sat on the floor head slumped and propped up by her arms. She rolled her eyes looking around the room. Not sure what to do next she closed her eyes.

She woke to a darkened habitat. Panic stricken she hollered for lights. In response, the rooms and corridors were illuminated. She still couldn’t breathe right. She swept her eyes back and forth. “Ummy, baba, bhai!” no one replied. She bawled. Knocking the ludo pieces across the floor. Tearing her drawings asunder.

Beep…beep…beep…

She screamed smashing at the panel controls. A face appeared. “My dear are you alright?” she bawled some more. “I thought this sector was evacuated…standby” and just like that, the face was gone. She slumped against the corridor wall, too weak to cry too tired to scream. Her legs gave out allowing to slide down to rest on the floor.

Sniffling she wiped her tears. Now, what? She drew her knees in and rested her cheek. She must have done something really bad for everyone to leave her. Maybe she shouldn’t have yelled when baba asked her to clean her room. Or maybe she should have cleaned up after she spilled salan on the kitchen floor. And she definitely shouldn’t have called bhai names.

Sirens began to wail. Kinetic rumbles, blinding light. The habitat stood. She didn’t like the sounds. Not one bit. She had heard them before. But that’s when she had baba to read her books. She would tell her not to worry and that it would all be over soon. She wished he was around to tell her now.

A hiss at the portal. White suited figures. Engulfing her. Helping her with a suite of her own. Whisked away. She could see the habitat falling out of view. More kinetic rumbles followed by horrible flashes.

“Ummy!”

“Beti!” the two hugged each other. Clinging to one other sobbing relentlessly. Bhai and baba comforted them both. Sterile white lights and sanitized floors did nothing to lessen the warmth of the moment. Surrounded by loving arms Sidra was home again. Even bhai was a sight for sore eyes.

“You can beat me at ludo anytime, ok?” She laughed for the first time in a long time.

“Okay.” She nestled her head in ummy’s lap

“Who did your hair?” she mumbled on stroking long black strands

“Sidra.”

“Baba?”

“I am sorry.”

“Don’t be. I was supposed to clean my room and I didn’t that’s why everyone left me”

“No Sidra.” He chocked, a finger placed on his lips “I am just glad they found you.” Confused by the outburst she did not know what to think. Kissing her father’s cheek, she told him not to worry. In return, they all huddled together hanging onto each other for dear life.

Let me know what you thought in the comments below. There is more to Sidra’s Story, I plan on learning more about her with each assignment. I will let you know where to find her complete story in the coming weeks. But more importantly tell me what you came up. Which prompts resonated with you? Why were those your favorite prompts? Let us know in the comments!

1. What inspired you to become an artist?
Razwan: That’s a question as I get asked a lot. When growing up I never really thought of myself as an “Artist” in the sense of the word as used to define a career Artist. As a child, I would always be doing Art – mixing Islamic themes, particularly Arabic Calligraphy with stuff I saw around me. It just seemed natural and it didn’t bother me that I didn’t see anyone else doing the same in my neighbourhood. Slowly though, it began to dawn on me that not only is Art an expression of communication, but it is “being” itself. There’s a powerful force at work when composing Art. I think the way schools are geared today, there is little room for individualist thought and hence one’s own light is considered imperfections. It took me a long time to get over this conditioning, though I think I had a head start over others, as I was taught aspects of Islamic Calligraphy and Culture at home and had access to traditional materials used in Islamic Art. I think it’s important also to mention the living presence of Calligraphers around me. My Dad could write wonderfully and once I watched my Uncle compose such beautiful calligraphy, it seemed like magic!

Above: Ayatul Kursi as a blue planet.

2. What are the main themes or influences that inform your work?
Razwan: I must credit the contemporary Calligrapher Ahmed Moustapha for showing the world how traditional script and calligraphy can be used in exciting ways. Themes from the Muslim world are of interest to me and I am inspired by historic and contemporary Muslim interpretations of the cosmos. I find that there is a spiritual depth also in Japanese and Chinese Calligraphy. I have been posing questions regarding the Minimalist tradition in Islamic Art for a while now and I have been trying to converse with minimalism whilst composing calligraphy. Meditation and reflection is key to my calligraphy.

3. How did you come to choose science fiction settings for your work?
Razwan: Science fiction, like Islam presents an alternate cosmology. In that sense, both deal with wider questions of the cosmos. In fact when I first began to learn Arabic, I began to see the Qur’an very differently. The Qur’an startled me with its cosmological view of reality. It posits a worldview from beyond space and time. Little wonder then, why early Muslims were great Astronomers. But what is less understood, is that there is a whole plethora of science-fiction written by early Muslim writers. Currently I am restudying this, in particular Ibn Nafis (d1288) and attempting to get to grips with what he and other early Muslim Sci-Fi writers were saying. I used to read wide a range of science-fiction and fantasy as well as Islamic texts as teenager. So I have been fed quite an SF diet. Sometimes science fiction creeps in without me knowing it! In my commission for the Tour De France 2014 for example, I I wasn’t overtly thinking of a science fiction theme, though after it was complete, someone remarked that the Arabic word looked like a man on a bike from TRON!

From the air! Sunlight reflecting off the word Al-Asr morphed into a bike, I was not thinking of TRON at all in the process of creating it!

4. What kind of reactions do you usually get regarding your work?
Razwan: I get the whole range of emotions, from baffled, mildly intrigued to sheer joy! Sadly nowadays people associate Islam generally with “religious” books. However in the past, Islam had an association with general life, and that included stories, fiction and science. It’s key to remember that this wasn’t proselytising the creed of Islam but simply that Muslim thinkers and writers were living “in harmony” with it. I have been told time and time again by well-meaning friends and colleagues that I should only concentrate on one aspect of my work. That I should only write or only do Art. They feel that a person can only excel at one thing. In my view however, I believe that this is a reductionist perspective and that Muslim writers and scientists have always been polymaths.

5. You also have a book on the Dracula, can you describe the project in a bit more detail?
Razwan: Certainly. Many years ago whilst at University, a fellow Turkish student mentioned just one sentence about Count Dracula and the Ottomans (Dr Kutluk Ozguven, now a Professor at Zirve University, Turkey) and that was enough to spark my interest in researching all I could about it. The book itself is over 400 pages and there are four aspects to it. First, it is a science-fiction-cum-fantasy story based on true events where there are hidden meanings within the narrative. Secondly, there are copious references to Muslim scientists and cosmology throughout the book. I have framed the edges of the pages with sayings of Sufi Mystics and created Art (along with guest Artist Sayra Bey) to bring the story alive. Finally, the book has been designed in a way that it is kept by the reader as something they can dip into at their leisure. I wanted to create something new – Islamic writers were once pioneers, and in a similar vein, I created a new format for a novel. It took many years of research and was launched at Waterstones in UK (the largest book chain here) in 2012, on the centenary of Bram Stoker’s death.

6. What projects are you currently working on?
Razwan: I am currently working on two projects. A series of new paintings for a new exhibition that looks at the Arabic Script in a fresh way yet keeps to the tradition. I am, Allah Willing, hoping to also use Farsi and Urdu along with Arabic. The second project is a series of books about a future sci-fi Islamic “city” which is called “Islamopolis.” I’ve already written over thousand pages on this, but there is a long editing and rewriting process under way, and it could be over a year till I am happy with the first of the books!

7. What are you plans for the future?
Razwan: We make plans, but sometimes we are pushed into different areas by the One. For now, I feel like exploring the Minimalist tradition in Islamic Art, Literature and Education. We live on earth for only a short period of time and if we can leave a bit of a legacy for the next generation then it’s been worth it!

Pamela Sargent The Venus Trilogy is sometimes compared to Kim Stanley Robinson’s Mars Trilogy. Just like the Mars Trilogy the Venus Trilogy also spans many centuries and has the terraforming of that planet as the main theme of the book. In a manner similar to Robinson’s trilogy there are also Muslim character’s in Pamela’s book as well. Here is a description of the series from ereads.

Venus of Dreams introduces Iris Angharads, a determined, independent woman who has set herself one seemingly unattainable goal: to make the poison-filled atmosphere of Venus hospitable to humans. She has worked day and night to realize her dream with only one person sharing her passion, Liang Chen. It seemed impossible to make Venus, with its intolerable air and waterless environment, into a paradise, but Iris succeeds. And in doing so, she creats a powerful dynasty beginning with her first born Benzi.

In Venus of Shadows, the Venus Project calls upon the strongest and most courageous to create a prosperous world in the dismal wilderness of Venus. Those who demonstrate the skill and the passion to embark on this adventure must transform the barren planet in the midst of political and cultural unrest. When Benzi and his sister Risa find themselves in opposing forces on the battlefield, their love and perseverance will determine the destiny of the new land.

In Child of Venus the terraforming has been going on for centuries. It will be many more years before the planet’s surface has been rendered fully habitable and its human settlers can leave their protective domes. But there are those who are foolishly unwilling to wait. In a colony still ravaged by the after-effects of a battle between two religious cults that divided families and created civil war, Mahala Liangharad, a true child of Venus, conceived from the genetic material of the rebels and brought to birth only after their deaths, is a beacon of hope.

Sargent builds imaginatively-detailed new worlds of breathtaking wonder and shows that however far humanity may travel it will overcome any challenge.

The Book of Madness is a collection of short stories by Levent Şenyürek. Most of the stories have a grand premise ranging from the Soviets making contact with the aliens at the 1908 Tugunska event to machines that can make everything including universes. The collection also includes a self-referential story about a science fiction writer trying to write the last story in a sci-fi collection. A more comprehensive review of the collection is available on the following link.

The main plot element involved the idea that Islamic terrorists would regularly bomb targets in the United States using small “suicide” drones equipped with explosives and GPS guidance. I figured it was an obvious application of technology and there wouldn’t be any way to stop it. Right on schedule, an American born Al-Qaeda sympathizer recently got arrested for planning multiple attacks on Washington DC that would have used GPS-guided model planes.

Another plot device in The Religion War involved what we now call Big Data. The idea is that someday there would be so much data available about individual behavior that skilled programmers could mine it to make freakishly accurate predictions. In the book, one character accesses Big Data to search for the most influential person in the world. The so-called Prime Influencer is at the seed end of a vast social network that ultimately connects all of civilization. For plot purposes, the Prime Influencer isn’t aware of his or her power. The Prime Influencer is thought to have a way with words and a small circle of acquaintances that are moved by his or her opinions. But those people know more people, and so on. Any catchy idea from the Prime Influencer has the potential to quickly travel through the social fabric of civilization and change the world. But that’s fiction.

In the real world of today, corporations use Big Data to predict individual behavior with freakish accuracy. And we’ve also seen that one influential guy with a Facebook account can organize a revolution and take down a government. For story reasons, I needed my Prime Influencer to be one person. It’s unlikely the real world only has one such influential person. But I predict that someday the world will be controlled, in effect, by a small group of unelected people who have vast social networks and a knack for forming viral ideas. (Imagine a Rush Limbaugh talent with no radio show but a lot of Facebook friends.)

The provocative part of The Religion War involves what happens to democracy and freedom when terrorism becomes unstoppable and intolerable. It’s premature to see how well the book predicts that situation, but if terrorists keep trying to build their own drones, we’ll find out the hard way.

Note: If you decide to read The Religion War, make sure you read God’s Debris first. God’s Debris is available on Amazon and also free for download on the Internet. Unlike God’s Debris, The Religion War is written with movie pacing in mind, meaning I left out the filler descriptions of how the leaves are shimmering in the cool morning light. It keeps the book short, and the style is not for everyone.]

[Thanks to Hal for the pointer]

The late Edward Said lamented the biased representation of the “Oriental” in his influential Orientalism, published 35 years ago. Most of the scholarly and voyeuristic tomes he critiqued are rarely read these days, although his intellectual nemesis Bernard Lewis is well represented in your local Barnes and Noble bookstore (in part thanks to a desire for selling books rather than seriously vetting them by some of the editors at Oxford University Press). Few students of the Middle East or Islamic studies these days have ever heard of Lord Cromer or William Muir or Raphael Patai, let alone would read and be influenced by their aged volumes. The ugly ethnocentrism, racism and sexism that once could be found in the broad (far too broad) discourse labeled “Orientalism” is still quite evident, although moreso in the media, political punditry on the right and rantings of career Islamophobes than by serious scholars. But we are now in the digital age and iOrientalism is now propelled through Facebook, Twitter and Youtube via iphones, ipods and their technological clones.

One Youtube video that recently appeared on a Youtube search that had nothing to do with the subject I was searching is a mock video-game fight between three hefty-bosomed and bursting-at-the-bra-straps Arab princesses and a swarthy Mike Tysonish evil guy. This appears to be a promo for Poser Pro Animation rather than a cultural statement per se. The three

Arab princesses are so scantily clad that it is more the tile-glazed architecture and palm trees that orientalize than the costume or look. Of the three kung-fu trained ladies, one has red hair, one is a blond and the other is wearing what looks to me like the kind of aviator helmet worn by Amelia Earhart in the 1930s. The bully wears a leather waist band, but otherwise the shaft he was endowed with by nature is visible to the three princesses, but not to those of us viewing the video. Ironically, this parallels Said’s choice of the Gérôme’s painting that graced the cover of the original paperback of Orientalism: this features a naked boy with a snake wrapped around him and a group of grizzled Walnetto perverts staring at his organ, while we voyeuristic viewers can only see the glistening buttocks of the youth.

The “Arab princess” in the video is a makeout-makeover of the depiction of Yasmin in Disney’s Adaddin. Far from the damsel in distress, these three are damn dangerous out of dress. They not only can kick the ass who attacks them, they can knock him out cold. I suppose a preliminary look at the video could suggest that this is a feminist response to “Arab” patriarchy. As a demanding male, you should think twice before fooling around (or trying to fool around) with these three beauties. Any one of them could take you on and win. That is one message of the video. Of course, the fact that the three warrior princesses are almost naked, except for the military boots on two of them, makes this kind of “feminism” the wet dream variety of male porn addicts. As the video does not actually have a wardrobe malfunction, letting a nipple slip into view, it is pc in a formal sense.

But let us not fool ourselves. This thoroughly sexist rendering of a so-called “Arab princess” is about the erotic manipulation of all female bodies. It is perhaps easier to accomplish this when there is also the background bias that these “Arab” women are usually veiled and compliant to male orders. But liberating women from veils, as odious as the notion of forcing a woman to cover up due to male inability to respect the natural beauty of the human body, in this video only frees them to be objects for male fantasy. These three princesses might as well be robots (in part due to the digital limitations) who walk in, throw punches, kick fight, and keep on walking. They are not distinguished by personalities, and all have the same thin body shape that the creators assume the viewers want to see, but by hair color. This is the iOrientalism offered as play, but it hits a deeper gender nerve. If the only thing that matters is the female body offered up to view for male fantasy, then these “Arabs” are us.

Abdourahman Waberi’s Aux États-Unis d’Afrique was published in 2006, and the English translation, In the United States of Africa, came out in 2009. It’s a brief, lyrical and pointed satire that imagines our world in reverse: Africa is a region of stability and prosperity, united by a single government, with the desperate multitudes of the impoverished West begging for its aid.

In the United States of Africa is science fiction only in the loosest sense, in the way that Gulliver’s Travels is science fiction: it’s a social commentary that creates an imaginary world in order to critique the world we know. Waberi is not interested in exploring how technology might have developed differently in the United States of Africa, or in inventing new socio-political systems. His interest is in images: “the moon, polished by Malian and Liberian astronauts” (p. 4); a “shelter for destitute Caucasians, with their straight hair and infected lungs” (p. 5). It’s his exuberant prose, laced with just enough irony to sting, that gives these images the destabilizing force of the best science fiction.

At the center of the novel is Malaïka, called Maya: a white girl adopted by African parents and raised in comfort in Asmara. The book describes Maya’s life and her development as an artist, but it’s also addressed to her: “You were an angel, Maya,” declares the unnamed narrator, “both light and vigorous. You were as fresh as a newborn butterfly in the pure air” (p. 29). This creates a curious mirror effect: Maya is shown, but she is also told about her own image, so that she is present both as an actor and as the observer of her own story. Mirrors figure prominently in the novel: “[I]s the person you see every morning in the mirror—that double, that twin—so familiar? Or is she already taking up too much space?” the narrator asks (p. 38). Maya’s mirror-twin is a sinister, threatening figure, but its disappearance later in the novel is even more disturbing: “You are…absent from your own dreams. You really are invisible, there’s no doubt about it. It happens at night, when you take your clothes off before going to bed: you look at yourself in the mirror and you can’t see a thing” (p. 82).

Maya’s alienation is caused by her status as a privileged young woman who nevertheless bears the white skin of “the wretched of the earth” (p. 15). To find herself, she sets out to seek her birth mother in the decaying slums of Paris. “You put on a calm face as you drag two suitcases stuffed with clothes to fight the cold, medicine against the thousand microbes they have in Europe, not forgetting small presents for the people you’ll have to deal with. You were told many times never to leave empty handed” (p. 95).

Maya’s journey provides plenty of opportunities for Waberi to frame Europe in the terms commonly used to describe Africa. There’s a certain amount of glee in this reversal of stereotypes, but the novel is more than just an extended joke. It is, itself, a mirror. In its pages, a reader of any background will see herself or himself reflected in the body of the other. The insistent address of the narrative voice, the repeated you—you are seeing this, you are doing this—underscores the urgent call for self-examination that lies at the heart of the book.

Often, science fiction imagines the future; In the United States of Africa re-imagines the present. Yet it also gestures toward a future in which Maya will find peace, a peace that the reader is called to seek as well. In that future, the narrator declares, “the world will refuse to turn into mud.” This future must grow from the quiet reflection of the present, but it is far less static, less dependent on the image in the mirror. “You will convert the blue sky to palpable works, you will wave azure handkerchiefs in farewell” (p. 123).

A Mosque Amongst The Stars, an anthology that I was co-editing with Ahmed A. Khan has been released. More information on the book can be found on the book webpage here. The table of contents is available here and contributing author bios can be read at this webpage. Currently the book can be ordered via e-mail by sending an e-mail to Ahmed A. Khan at: zc.press@gmail.com

There are, of course, many fantastic motifs in medieval Arabic literature, as in the collection of stories of various genres Alf layla wa layla [“One Thousand and One Nights”] (standard text 15th century; trans by Sir Richard Burton as The Arabian Nights, 16 vols, 1885-8). In this, the stories of The City of Brass and The Ebony Horse could be regarded as PROTO SCIENCE FICTION. A few UTOPIAS were written too, including al-Farabi’s Risala fi mabadi’ ara’ ahl al-madina al-fadila (first half of 10th century; trans by Richard Walzer as Al-Farabi on the Perfect State 1985). The first real sf stories were published in the late 1940s by the famous mainstream Egyptian writer Tawfiq Al-HAKIM, but are not considered genre sf by Arabic critics, who nominate Mustafa MAHMUD (often transcribed Mahmoud) as the “Father of Arabic sf”. Both of these authors have been translated into English. Although there have been a lot of sf stories published in Arabic since the 1960s, few authors could be described as sf specialists. Among them, the most important is probably Imran Talib, a Syrian, author of seven sf novels and short-story collections to date. The most interesting of these are the three collections, Kawkab al-ahlam [“Planet of Dreams”] (coll 1978), Laysa fi al-qamar fuqara’ [“There are No Poor on the Moon”] (coll 1983) and Asrar min madina al-hukma [“Secrets of the Town of Wisdom”] (coll 1988), and the novel Khalfa hajiz az-zaman [“Beyond the Barrier of Time”] (1985). Talib is also the author of the sole theoretical study of sf in Arabic: Fi al-khayal al-ilmi [“About Science Fiction”] (1980). Sf is written in practically all Arab countries. In Libya, for example, Yusuf al-Kuwayri has published the novel Min mudhakkirat rajul lam yulad [“From the Diary of a Man Not Yet Born”] (1971), which gives an optimistic view of life in Libya in the 32nd century. Mysterious ALIENS affect the life and work of the hero, a Palestinian living in the occupied territories, in Palestinian Amil Habibi’s popular mainstream sf novel Al-waqa’ al-ghariba fi ikhtifa’ Said Abu an-Nahs al-Mutasha’il (1974; trans as The Secret Life of Saeed, the Ill-Fated Pessoptimist: A Palestinian who Became a Citizen of Israel 1982). Various other mainstream writers have written occasional sf stories, as in Qisas [“Short Stories”] (coll) by the Syrian Walid Ikhlasi and Khurafat [“Legends”] (coll 1968) by the Tunisian Izzaddin al-Madani. The Algerian Hacene Farouk Zehar, who writes in French, has published Peloton de tete [“Top Platoon”] (coll 1966). The role of drama in the Arab world is more important than in the West, and plays are very often published; some are of sf interest. The famous Egyptian dramatist Yusuf Idris wrote Al-jins ath-thalith [“The Third Sex”] (1971), in which the protagonist, a scientist called Adam, attempts to discover the enzymes of life and death and travels to the Fantastic World. Another Egyptian, Ali Salim, a satirist who writes in colloquial Arabic, has written several sf plays. In En-nas elli fi es-sama’ et-tamna [“People from the Eighth Heaven”] (1965) a protagonist called Dr Mideo struggles against the bureaucratic Academy of Sciences of the Universe. Fantastic discoveries and excavations are the main topic of Ali Salim’s other sf plays, Barrima aw bi’r el-qamh [“Brace, or the Well of Wheat”] (1968), Er-ragel elli dihik el-mala’ika [“A Man who Laughed at Angels”] (1968) and Afarit Masr el-gadida [“Satan from Heliopolis”] (1972). [JO]