“No. It’s just very old water that hasn’t seen daylight in over a thousand years. But who knows? It could be oil and the joke is on us,” Samer said.

I was already contemplating revenge on Jumana for laughing at me when two more men materialized. They introduced themselves as Wadee and Faisal, Jumana’s brothers. They emerged with food bags from what I’d assumed was a hollow crevice in the wall. It was, in fact, a passage from yet another building. Samer assumed the tone of a tour guide, showing me around the room, which was no more than a few paces in each direction. It seemed a bit ridiculous then, but now, in the Cube, I understand how much space and story one can fit into the smallest footprints.

“We only excavated what we needed,” Samer said. “Someday we’ll turn it over to archaeologists … enshallah.” He swept his arm through the airless air. “I am sure this room opens to more and more chambers. It might just be an elaborate cistern. I’m not sure. But we have to be careful not to excavate anything more so we don’t unintentionally alter a scene of history or destabilize the structures above.”

Samer went on talking, but my attention was on Jumana’s brothers. It was easy to see, even in the dimness, that Wadee and Faisal were twins, not merely by their looks but from the way they moved, like two waves of the same ocean. They were setting up the food, each grabbing two corners of a plastic sheet, which they laid on the ground by squatting with outstretched arms like mirror images. One began removing plates of mezze from the bags, the other arranging them on the plastic sheet, lining up hummus, fuul, labneh, fattoush, and mhammara in two even rows punctuated by plastic bowls with various kinds of pickled vegetables and stacks of bread.

“Tfadaloo,” the brothers said in unison. Welcome.

I wasn’t hungry and couldn’t muster an appetite for a picnic in that stifling space. But I joined them on the floor around the food, because I understood that the meal was there for me, a kind of welcoming, apology, and seal of friendship or a shared secret.

Samer was still talking in a low voice, telling me how he’d discovered the underground space. His manner reminded me of an eager schoolboy presenting a science project. From what I gathered, Samer had started digging in the basement apartment of his family home after his brother was killed and his university shut down.