“Kareem, at your service,” said the youth, introducing himself and shaking Mr. N’s hand. “And you?”

“Call me N.”

“N?” The kid was amused. With a laugh and a shrug, he said, “Fine! It’s nice to meet you, Mr. N!”

Kareem made room for him nearby, at the computer next to the one where he stationed himself. Mr. N began looking the place over as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. He saw that most of those present were young enough to be his children. They sat with faces glued to screens, their fingers dancing with amazing rapidity over their keyboards, in another world. Sometimes they smiled; at other times they got angry. Sometimes they would get up to light a cigarette, going outside to smoke; when they came back in, they would call for the Egyptian working behind the desk to bring them a bottle of soda or water.

“Want anything to drink?” Kareem asked Mr. N. “There’s no alcohol here, unfortunately. Luqman forbids it.”

“Forbids alcohol?” Mr. N echoed.

“One day, the guys got drunk, started fighting, and broke a bunch of stuff. From that day on, he forbade any selling or drinking of alcohol here.”

“And everyone obeys?” said Mr. N, feigning disinterest.

Kareem’s eyes opened wide in surprise. “It’s clear you don’t know Luqman. You’d have to come by in the afternoon to see him, but as soon as you do, you’ll understand. He was a big man during the war: very powerful, and with a special squad that carried out his orders. They called him ‘the hero’ in those days. Everyone around here knew him and dreaded him. I think he’s roughly your age. Excuse me,” Kareem said, abruptly ending his story as a Skype call came in. “This is Joyce calling, my English fiancée.”

On his own screen, Mr. N perused some foreign-language newspapers, passing the time cautiously, reassured by the absence of Luqman. Kareem turned back to him when the connection went bad and his call was interrupted. He explained his relationship with Joyce, whom he had met on the internet eight months earlier, and whom he intended to marry so that she could get a visa to bring him to Ireland, where she lived with her teenage daughter.

“And from there,” said Kareem, breaking into English, “Bye, bye, Lebanon—hello, world! Aside from gaming, of course, a lot of people come in here hoping to make connections online with foreign girls. When you set the hook, that’s a good way to get out of the country. My friend Mario got lucky with an Australian girl whose family owns a supermarket chain all over the country. They got married, she gave him her citizenship, and today he lives like a king. It’s true that Joyce is many years older than me, but so what? I won’t be tied to her my whole life. She works in a rest home for the elderly, which means we can chat even when she’s on duty. She says she’s lonely and needs a man in her life. When I told her I want to go to university and complete my studies, she proposed sending me to university if I agreed to marry her. So I agreed!”