"They are heartless people..." he exclaimed to Yamen.
"Yamen... What year are we?" he shouted.
"We're at the end of 2009" Yamen replied.
"2009, how's that possible?" he exclaimed. Yamen smiled to ease his anger.
"It's the passage of time, my friend. We cannot change it!"
Then Khaled shouted at Iyad in frustration, "What's so strange about me leaving and abandoning Zikula?"
Iyad responded, "My friend... the gates of Zikula closed at dawn today. They won't open again until the day before Zikula, which means you gotta wait until the following year. No one can leave Zikula until that day."
Yamen continued to Khaled, "It's the day you entered Zikula... Why do you want to leave when you're not poor?"
Khaled went mad, "Who told you I'm rich?! No, I'm poor... I don't own anything. Even with the money I had, I thanked God it was coincidentally with me. It's just pieces of paper with no value."
Yamen smiled, "Why do you need it then, my friend?"
Khaled replied, "It's money... to buy what I need."
Yaman asked, "Do you mean currency?"
Khaled affirmed, "Yes..."
Yaman fell silent, then spoke again, "Ah... now I understand why you were so perturbed when you saw that poor man being slaughtered. You feared being poor and slaughtered like him. You see, our currency in Zikula is units of intelligence. The richer one is the smarter. The poorer are the less intelligent. Here, we work and earn based on our intelligence. We buy and pay with our intelligence. We eat in exchange for units of intelligence."
He paused for a moment and continued, "I don't know where you came from, but since you entered Zikula, you've become like us. You must preserve your intelligence and develop it. So that when Zikula comes, your intelligence doesn't diminish, or that will be your fate," pointing to the slaughtered body.
Khaled looked at him as if he understood nothing. "Yamen... I thought you were wise," he said.
Yamen replied, "I know you think we're fools... but we, the people of Zikula, are different from the rest of the world. And everyone knows that.
They fear entering our realm, fearing they'll be overtaken by the tremor of Zikula and become like us".
Exclaimed Khaled, recalling the sensation he experienced passing through Zikula, accompanied by intense pain in his head.
Yaman continued, "You must trust us and safeguard your intelligence. Believing we're foolish won't aid you. Leaving Zikula won't be possible, and if Zikula day arrives, and you're the least intelligent, what I told you will come to pass. It's a yearly cycle, and you'll require sustenance, drink, attire, and shelter.
In Zikula, nothing is given freely except on Zikual day. Today is workless, and only a few things may be obtained without compensation. You must work, earning intelligence to offset your needs.
Here in Zikula, your wealth is your intelligence."
Khaled's unease surfaced, sensing a decline in his intelligence. Astonishment marked his face, realizing his diminished capacity to think since entering the city. He couldn't comprehend why. Yet, what Yamen said held little credibility until a memory resurfaced.
Challenging Yamen, Khaled declared, "Your words aren't true. I've consumed all i needed without paying anything."
Yaman smiled, "Have you noticed the pricing in units in those places?"
Recalling his previous query about those units, Khaled nodded.
Yaman clarified, "Payment in units of intelligence isn't done by hand. It's an automatic transfer among us. Seeing those units, the prices, in those places means you've agreed to the purchase and the prices you've seen. The cost of what you've consumed or acquired will transfer from you to the proprietor of the establishment without your explicit consent. Strangers call it the curse of Zikula."
Interrupting him, Khaled exclaimed, "I've eaten a lot! And that food had the highest units written on it. The owner said it was his most expensive commodity and thanked me, calling me rich."
Yamen responded, "Indeed, my friend. I noticed a slight difference in you today compared to the first time I saw you." Then he glanced at Iyad, "It seems our friend has lost a considerable portion of his wealth."
Inquisitive, Khaled asked eagerly, "How did you know?"
Yamen smiled and said, "Your complexion has become somewhat pale, my friend. Whenever your intelligence decreases, your complexion pales, and illness starts to show. That's how we distinguish the rich from the poor. The more wealth you acquire, the more youthful you become. But when you lose, illness seeps into your body.
Thus, as Zikula approaches, the soldiers gather the sickest in the city and present them to the doctor, Asil. She determines who is truly sick and who is sick due to poverty. Then she selects the three ones, the poorest of all."
Interrupting him, Khaled exclaimed, "No, this is a mad country!" Then he left them both and hurriedly ran, his heart pounding with fear, dreading that what they said might be true. He continued to run amidst the crowd - the city's people dancing and reveling, the music reaching its crescendo. Struggling to move through them, he tried to escape the throng, inadvertently bumping into boys and girls without apology. His mind was preoccupied with reaching the gate of Zikula.
He kept running away from the festive atmosphere, muttering to himself, "This can't be true, it can't be..."
He found the gate already closed, facing many guards.
Khaled approached one of them, a bulky figure, and said, "I want to leave."
The guard chuckled mockingly, "Leave?!"
Khaled shouted, "Yes, I want to leave!"
The guard chuckled again, then looked at another guard and said, "We leave the Zikula celebrations to stand here until the drunkards come and mess with us."
Khaled yelled, "I'm not drunk! I'm leaving!" He pushed the guard with his hand. Anger flashed across the guard's face as he struck Khaled with a powerful blow, sending him stumbling backward, and he fell to the ground, blood streaming from his left eyebrow.
He quickly got up, returned, and stood before the guard again.
But as he looked at the shiny shield the guard carried, reflecting his own image, his eyes widened in fear, his breath quickened, and his heart raced when he saw his pale face.
His thoughts were interrupted by the guard's gruff voice, "Return to where you were, or prison will be your fate."
Khaled looked at him, defeated, placing his hand on his eyebrow, trying to stop the bleeding.
He realized that this gate wouldn't open as Iyad had told him, and Yamen's words to him were nothing but the truth he feared.