For weeks, Elias tries to go back to his old life, as a white boy among hip-hop Turkish-Germans, in a cheap Cologne neighborhood... But sometimes, you just can't go back, after you've been forward...
Elias stops believing it...but he's not the only person who can't move on from what's happened...
At the end of the school term, he finishes his class. Sadly, though, he passes with a C; not ideal enough to major in journalism. Elias has begun to expect this... Nonetheless, it's hard for him to commit to anything...
So, he leaves the campus, and makes his way back to the hood. He'll spend all night telling all of his Turkish-German housemates that he can't become a journalist...
A few moments later, it starts to look like he won't have to. He's shot from behind, by a pair of tranq darts. As he falls over on the sidewalk, a black car speeds up behind him, on the road, and deploys a trio of men in black. They black-bag him...and Elias loses all memory of what happens next.
Now, we move over to the Negev Desert. Once, in ancient times, Moses led the entire nation of Israel across it, from Egypt to Canaan...
(If you can't find Canaan on a map, don't worry about it. Israel isn't what it was...and hasn't been, for most of its history.)
Out here, there's a shack. Only the secret service knows where it is. In a way, it's like Camp David. Alas, Camp David probably has more facilities... But then, nobody can blame it; it's in Maryland. And Maryland is a port state, if the Negev can imagine that...
At long last, the black bag is taken off Elias's head. He's still suffering from jet lag...as well as the drugs they've put in him...
Elias studies the ropes, that keep him bound to this chair. They're golden. And with the sun shining through a window, on them, they appear to glow. This feels familiar...
Alas, his legs are whipped...by a bull whip. He cusses. He's whipped again. He cusses again. He's whipped again. He cusses again...
Ms. Ophir sighs, and tosses the whip. "Forget it," she mutters. "This is starting to feel like the Sister Mary Stigmata scene in the Blues Brothers... Besides, I'm not even a committed Jew..."
Elias blinks, and looks around. He sees the gorgeous amazon, who wears the Afroasian president's seal on her shiny belt buckle...but doesn't believe it...
"Frau President?!"
She scoffs. "You haven't changed a bit. It's FRAULEIN president. With luck, Afroasia won't have a First Gent under my rule."
She steps down, and approaches him. She sits on his lap. She highlights her bare legs, and her downblouse. She wraps both of her big bare arms around him, as she did back in Cologne...
"But then, just because I can't have a First Gent," she messes up his blond hair with one hand, "doesn't mean I can't have something that's," she blows in his face, "just as meaningful... Just tell me how eager you are to keep living in Cologne as a native peasant who lives among impoverished Turkish Germans." She pauses. "Not that I'm biased; but then, I'm pretty sure I was almost killed that night, because of many of your kinsmen who are."
"I didn't save you. As a matter of fact, you beat the shit out of me, just as I was about to do my part to aid that cause."
She sighs. "Yes; sorry about that. But even so, I remember all of those WONDERFUL dances we had afterwards. And the sex!" She puts her hand on her chest. "Oh, that was some of the BEST of my existence! And to think," she squeezes his tiny biceps, almost breaking his arms. "You're hardly the kind of man I thought I'd end up with...if I ended up with a man at all!"
"What?! No! You were drunk! You drank forty boilermakers in one night! There's no WAY you could've..."
"I was spec-ops in my country's military, Elias. Not sure how much you know about our military, but our spec-ops has standards. And if we fall beneath them, the higher ups SERIOUSLY begin to consider transferring us to shittier units. And in the ADF, if you're a woman, and not in the amazon units, then you're a virgin, fit to be scapegoated by the male mafia."
"I can imagine." He scoffs. "You might not be Wonder Woman...but you can sure drink like the original. Like that one time Steve Trevor tried to get her drunk, and failed..."
She half-smiles. "I never saw that one. But one thing I do know is that I've missed you, every day, since it happened. I'm a president, and on some days, I can't even make decisions, because of you!"
"That's," Elias tries to hide his empathy, "an unusual sentiment for a president to have..."
She pinches his cheek, and slaps his face. "I need you, Elias. I need to see you more often. I don't expect you to move in with me, but... Just tell me if black-bagging you is the best way to do it. I'd hate to wreck anything precious you've got going for yourself over there, in your precious North Rhine-Westphalia..."
He arches his brows. "Nope. I'm crappy at committing to things. The fly girls in that block often judge me for it, in fact..." He closes his eyes hard, biting his lip. "Right; not the kind of crap you talk about on a," he looks around, "date..."
"We can have a real one, if you want. Or, we can stay covert. Personally, I prefer that. I's nothing personal, it's just... I've got a lot of Muslim and Jewish voters, as well as more than a few black Amharic ones, who are, more or less, racist against Germans. They just," she caresses his shoulder with her finger, "might stop voting for me if, you know..."
"I get it. No, please; I'd LOVE to stay covert. Because it turns out that...I've got a few living biological relatives who probably wouldn't react the right way if they found out I was seeing a Jewish broad...even if she is the fucking Afroasian president."
"Wonderful!" She kisses his cheek. "I'm glad you think so. I know some people who are working on a way where we can be together full-time. If you're up to that..."
"Of course. Cologne never agreed with me, anyway. Take me, Frau President. I'm yours."
"That's FRAULEIN President!"
He sighs. "Naturlich."
She takes him into the back bedroom, and fucks him again. Ms. Ophir may never go down in history as one of Afroasia's greatest presidents...but for once, she's sure scored a fine catch...even if he is little more impressive than a figurative sardine...
(And the Jews, at least, can eat sardines; at least THEIR scales are visible via the naked eye... It's the Somalis and Amharics that can't eat fish at all...)