“Show me a single government civil servant who deserves to stay on,” he blurted out nervously, his voice too loud.

A member of the committee whom he did not know turned to him and gave him a stern lecture about a civil servant’s duties toward the people. “The revolution is determined to purge the governmental machine of all kinds of corruption,” he said. “I assure you that in the future no Egyptian will be deprived of his rights or gain any kind of benefit or concession for himself through belonging to any group, family, or organization.”

Something deep inside Isa warned him not to argue with this member of the committee, and so he remained silent. The investigation went on until four o’clock in the afternoon and then he left the committee room, feeling like a dried-up twig snapped off and devoured by worms. Crossing town toward Dokki, he felt as if he were floating in some sort of Atlantis. The lifeless streets, their lengths and widths, the neighborhoods they intersected, seemed remote, submerged beneath the seething clash of his own self. All he could see, hear, or think about was this unrelenting anxiety that tormented him.

“Why don’t you talk to your cousin about the situation?” his old mother asked. “He’s one of them!”

Her advice stung him, and he was aware that an insane look of rage flashed in his eyes.

EIGHT

The personnel director called him in to tell him that the decision had been taken to pension him off, crediting him with a two-year addition to his period of service. This was the same director who had written the memoranda connected with Isa’s advancement, through promotion by exceptional promotion, all the way up to the second grade; he might still have the draft memorandum about his promotion to the first grade which had been prepared for submission to the cabinet, Isa knew, one week before the treaty had been annulled—the promotion that, in the course of events that had followed the annulment of the treaty, there had been no chance to confirm. The director himself had no party affiliation. Isa did not doubt for a moment, however, that the man loathed him: they held the same rank, after all, despite the enormous difference in their ages. He seemed moved by the situation and took advantage of the fact that there was no one else in the room to say so. “God only knows, Isa,” he said, “how really sorry I am!”