The door opened to reveal an infinitely spacious room: a whole world of meanings and motivations, not just a limited space buried in a mass of detail. Those who entered it, he believed, were swallowed up, melted down. And as his consciousness caught fire, he was lost in a magical sense of wonder. At first, his concentration wandered. He forgot what his soul yearned to see—the floor, the walls, the ceiling: even the god sitting behind the magnificent desk. An electric shock went through him, setting off in his innermost heart an insane love for the gloriousness of life on the pinnacle of power. At this point the clarion call of power urged him to kneel down and offer himself in sacrifice. But he followed, like the rest, the less extreme path of pious submissiveness, of subservience, of security. Many childlike tears he would have to shed before he could impose his will. Yielding to an irresistible temptation, he cast a furtive glance at the divinity hunched behind the desk and lowered his eyes with all the humility he possessed.

Hamza al-Suwayfi, the Director of Administration, led in the procession.

“These are the new employees, Your Excellency,” he said, addressing the Director General.

The Director General’s eyes surveyed their faces, including his. He felt he was becoming part of the history of government and that he stood in the divine presence. He thought he heard a strange whispering sound. Perhaps he alone heard it. Perhaps it was the voice of Destiny itself. When His Excellency had completed his examination of their faces, he opened his mouth. He spoke in a quiet and gentle voice, revealing little or nothing of his inner self.

“Have they all got the Secondary Education Diploma?” he inquired.

“Two of them have the Intermediate Diploma of Commerce,” Hamza al-Suwayfi replied.

“The world is progressing,” said the Director General in an encouraging tone. “Everything is changing. And now here is the Diploma, replacing the Certificate of Primary Education.”

This was reassuring, but they all sought to conceal their delight under still greater submissiveness.

“Live up to what’s expected of you,” His Excellency went on, “through hard work and honesty.”

He looked over a list of their names and suddenly asked, “Which of you is Othman Bayyumi?”

Othman’s heart pounded within him. That His Excellency had uttered his very own name shook him to the core. Without raising his eyes he took a step forward and mumbled, “Me, Your Excellency.”

“You got an excellent grade in your Diploma. Why didn’t you go on to finish your education?”

In his confusion he remained silent. The fact was he did not know what to say, even though he knew the answer.

The Director of Administration answered for him, apologetically, “Perhaps it was his circumstances, Your Excellency.”