Algorithm of the New Prophets

We woke up as usual in the morning. We were drinking orange juice after a small breakfast. That was a lazy morning. Akashy’s mom woke up early and offered her daily morning prayer. We slept late as we returned home around 10:

00 p.m. We were eating fresh homemade muffins. We were watching the NBC TV news. They covered our Volunteer Park convention on the national news. It was highlighting our ideologies rather than our personalities, when it still focused on Akashy’s distinctive persona.

The NBC commenter described Akashy as she was sort of twentieth-century’s techno-humanists and social freedom fighter.

The Fox News story mentioned that Akashy was a national Liberation fighter in her country of origin in 1971. In the United States, she became a devoted civil rights fighter committed to liberating children and women from all religious and corporate exploitation.

Akashy was a passive atheist, but she did not yet write off the role of religion from human civilization. She realized human had to create something fruitful to human kind before totally abolishing religion. In the absence of religion, she felt that overarching fictions will be required to make sense of the world. She echoed Youval Hariri: if nothing in our approach changes; then Dataism, a universal faith in the power of algorithms, will become sacrosanct. There must be an almighty power, as Hariri suggested, that gives humankind godlike attributes. There will be a price to pay for this power, however.

Mom was asking Akashy about what the TV news said as she watched her daughter’s picture. One picture was at the front of MIT Ma. USA, another one was a painting by Shusheel, plus the thirty-second video clips of yesterday’s convention. Mom did not understand even a single word. She was curious, glad, and proud of Akashy, thinking that her daughter must achieved something big recently.

Akashy partially concealed something when she explained it to her mom. She did not mention that NBC mentioned Akashy was an atheist. Mom was devoted believer in God, in Allah. But she was not a fanatic or medieval orthodox. Akashy did not want to hurt her feelings. Mom realized Akashy was not explaining her everything. So mom asked, “What else?”

Akashy left the table to give some food to her cats and birds, and she watered her balcony plants. Then she left the birds in the cage on the balcony. Sometimes other birds used to come and sing and dance around the plants. But our pet birds never sang. I did realise why. Mom did not like to keep those birds caged. Akashy was the only person who loved to see birds at our home. Anyway, we both were to leave home soon for our jobs. So we were on hurry.

“Akash, can you check my emails, please? I am going to check my voice mails on the phone,” Akashy asked. She was wearing her leather coat, which was made and bought in Bangladesh. Her mom bought it for her.

I got an email from Shusheel. He said that he had been released from Faridpur jail a week ago. He was so glad watching the NBC newscast of the Seattle convention on their local TV in Dhaka.

Shusheel mentioned that many people in Dhaka were glad to see her in such exceptional role. With the reference to Shusheel’s painting, his credibility and popularity had been increased. Shusheel expressed his deep gratitude to us, specifically to Akashy for it.

Those who hated and criticised Akashy once at Habiganj right after the 1971 war and her marriage, now they honor and feel proud for her exceptional achievements. Shusheel also mentioned in his email that some our family relatives and friends now try to be cooperative and socially close to our families.

“We will respond to his email when we get a few minutes today between works. We have to get out soon. My gynecologist’s appointment is just an hour away. We have to hurry,” Akashy said.

She got the news that she became pregnant. She would become a mother, and I would be a father. That gave us a romantic feeling but also the feeling of responsibility.

When she came out of the clinic, she looked a bit shy but was glad. She was smiling, fixing her eyes on my chest. I understood that she tried to avoid direct eye contact out of shyness with the man who gave her motherhood.

I understood, and we were speculating. I hugged her softly at the exit. She hugged me back, and I kissed her forehead. Her eyes became wet with tears of happiness. I did not have tissue paper with me to wipe her eyes. She used her hands to clear her eyes.

She called her mom right away from the clinic’s lobby and informed her. Her facial expression made it seem that her mom was happy. My feeling was like invisible butterflies and bees dancing and kissing hundreds of sunflowers in the colorful valley.

We went to the nearby park to sit and chat about her medical checkup. I became extra cautious about her movements when doctor the confirmed her pregnancy. Her four-month internship at the CERN in Geneva was to begin by the end of the next month. Her women- voice -convention in Washington was scheduled only two months later, when she returned from Geneva, Switzerland finishing her internship.

At that point I was wondering how she would be able to carry out all those jobs as she was pregnant. I thought it might become difficult. Even if she would try hard to perform most, the resulting stress might not be good for the new baby and her.

“Do you think you will be able to perform the internship at the CERN?” I asked.

“Yes, it will not be a problem, but I have to consult frequently with the doctor before making any risky move,” Akashy replied.

“It is really hard to think about abortion, I know,” I said.

“No, I can’t even imagine it. I love kids,” Akashy said.

“The birth rate is down in many societies. Even the coupling rate is also down, for example in Japan, in the Scandinavian countries, and in a few European countries.”

“I love kids, I love kids. They are like beautiful flowers in the garden. My mom would love to help me raise my baby properly.” Akashy smiled emotionally.

“Sure, I also love kids. It’s our first baby. But do you have preference for a boy or girl?” I asked her.

“No, but today girls prove themselves as more creative, patient, organized, and peaceful.”

“May be. But we need boys too to keep the gender balance. Otherwise, the planet might have to encounter odd situation that prevailed in the pre-Islam middle east or in ancient Greece,” I suggested.

“Maybe, but more important is to have economic opportunities for common people and social goals too.”

“Yes, I know. Many insolvent young men are willing stay away from coupling or forming a family. There are also many obstacles, beside economic issues, such as cultural dogmas, social arrogance, and taboos that bar young men and women from coupling or marrying.”

“On the other hand, many family-head men make oversize families by giving birth of more boys in a hope for strong and better future. Some men do not even hesitate to bury baby girls when they are born. Such things have been happening for centuries,” Akashy added.

It was already noon. We bought little snack and mango juice from a roadside Indian snack bar. I had a chemistry class at my university. Akashy went her office. We returned home at five o’clock. We ate our big supper with Mom. Akashy explained the details of her trip to Switzerland. Her departure was scheduled for five days later.

She was traveling by herself. I was hesitating to let her travel alone. We could not leave Mom alone; Akashy’s brother was not dependable look after mom and the apartment when he had classes at school.

A one-bedroom dorm was allotted for Akashy at the CERN campus. It was just two kilometers away from the laboratory complex, not far from the France–Switzerland border. The apartment was fully furnished and included utilities.

“Who will cook your food? How are the medical services?” Mom anxiously asked.

“I have to work five or six days each week for about ten or twelve hours every day. There is a café and fully equipped dining hall for all employees to prepare and eat their own food. I will mostly be at the apartment to sleep and bathe. There are shuttle busses every half hour between work and the apartment. Luckily the emergency medical facility is just five minutes’ walking distance from the apartment,” Akashy explained in Bengali.

“What types of food you will have there?”

“Don’t worry; I will pick only the Halal food,” Akashy assured her mom.

“But you essentially need at this stage enough relaxation for the health of you both,” I told her English.

“There is gym, yoga floor, and swimming pool with sauna spa. Furthermore, the surrounding view is very attractive. Green hills and mountains are all around, and there is a lake, bike path, and jogging path.”

Her brother spontaneously asked if he could visit her there.

“Sure, I will try to arrange a trip for all us during my vacation,” she said.

Meanwhile Akashy went to the balcony to look after her birds and plants. A mild cold wind usually blew during night at that season of year. She asked her brother to put clear plastic air tent around so the sun-heat would linger and protect plants against cold.

I asked Akashy, “Can you tell us about the subject of your work at the CERN lab?”

“Researching on source of the human soul. For centuries, a few religion leaders, philosophers, and scientists have claimed that the soul never dies, even after we die. It’s controversial. Soul just floats around the universe, perhaps in any planet. The scientists have worked on a quantum theory of consciousness in which they state that the soul is maintained in micro-tubules of the brain cells. These micro-tubules are the core subject of my research,” Akashy explained in English.

Further she added, “We have to determine that those microtubules remain undamaged for how long when human dies, and if those microtubules are able to retain the past information of a dead person, so and so, then it is for how long?.”

Mom attentively followed what she said. Akashy did not explain to Mom in Bengali because the subject might bother and hit her religious beliefs.

I said, “Some Muslims believe in the incarnation of the soul after death. The soul runs away after person’s death and comes back to the earth later, even to the same community of that died person,” I said in Bengali.

Mom understood. Then she became curious about this subject. She said, “When a person dies, his or her soul returns to God (Allah). Our God put this soul again in another unborn human body on the earth.”

Akashy took her cell phone and dialed Shusheel in Dhaka. I noticed that she never lost track of following her daily to-do list. She was supposed to contact Shusheel at the end of the day in response to his email. She reached him on the first attempt to call.

Mom and I silently listened to her conversation. We were eager to know about the situation. Meanwhile, I heard an unhappy dog barking and moments later heard rude horns from an old bus in the background of the other side. Shusheel was close to the main street; it was obvious.

Shusheel said, “Days ago an unseasonal storm blew through the outskirt of Dhaka city and the Manikganj area. Its casualty was huge in terms of loss of humans, animals, and crops.”

Akashy encouraged him to continue his practice of painting. She informed Shusheel about her research fellowship in Switzerland and of her departure flight scheduled in a few days. Akashy also reminded him to send the list of participants for the Fourth of July Washington World women Convention. Then she would officially send the invitation letter via the US Embassy in Dhaka. Akashy cut short her conversation to Shusheel.

Oh, yah, Akashy did not forget to tell Shusheel that Bengalis are peculiar and opportunist character by and large. You will have many supporters when you win or get stronger; and will find none around when you lose or become weak.

Then she also called my mom to tell her about her Switzerland trip on a Hertz Foundation Scholarship. She passed the phone over to her mom. They chatted for a few minutes. I also briefly spoke to Mom and Dad.

“We are glad about her scholarship and research. The Hertz Foundation is a Jewish sponsored organization, you know.” My dad mentioned.

“Maybe it’s true. But it’s not her problem. She can’t abandon this opportunity to pursue her dream,” I said.

“Right. If she serves our country when she is established, everyone will be grateful to her. Their Habiganj house rent is going well with no troubles. The current rent is deposited into her bank account.”

Shortly I finished the conversation with my Dad. Then I called Tipu Bhai, the Habiganj Awami League leader. Bangladesh time was around 10 a.m. We chatted about the local and national situation. He said that they had severe thunderstorms in the Haor area four hours ago. It was unusual and unseasonal. Poor farmers lost their ripe crops. Few people called him to let him know. At the end of our chat I told Tipu Bhai, “Akashy will leave for Switzerland for a four-month research fellowship at the CERN, Geneva.”

“What is the subject of her research over there?” Tipu bhai asked.

“She will be working as a brain-computer interface analyst to monitor the transition and capabilities of micro-tubules when patients are in a coma before death and after death. Micro-tubules deal with lots of information. She will be developing the quantum theory to understand the ultimate use and destination of the human soul.”

“It’s sort of complicated topic to understand and might be disturbing to many Bangladeshi people. I wonder that if it’s a sort of a challenge to the belief of the supreme divine power of the universe (God),” Tipu Bhai said.

“Just as divine authority was legitimized by religious mythologies, and human authority was legitimized by humanist ideologies, so high-tech prophets are creating a new universal narrative that legitimizes the authority of algorithms and Big Data functionality.”I said.

“Akash, you know our people and society. They angrily rejected and threatened the writer Taslima Nasrin. The fanatic people once had become angry against the poet Kazi Nazrul Islam when wrote about corruption of clergies and religious institutions. Today the military rulers patronize Islam openly for power. Ideologies of our freedom struggle have been evaporating slowly. But Akashy is lucky she does not live in Bangladesh,” Tipu Bhai said seriously.

I said, “I know and I wonder even Awami league may baffle to this idea too that Akashy works with- when it becomes as an issue with conservative religious voters in the future. This party also have few Muslim fanatic members.”

It’s too late, almost midnight. I ended the conversation with Tipu bhai on phone.

Mom was waiting for us to end our phone chat. We realized she could not go to bed until we went to ours. It was a bit late for her. She had to wake up around 4:00 a.m. to prayer. She usually makes lemon honey tea in early morning for her. Then she prays for about thirty minutes and goes to bed again and sleeps until around 7:30 a.m.

I mentioned to Akashy, “At this moment, I do remember what my grandpa gave me written message on that piece of old paper at the beginning of the Liberation War. My grand grandpa predicted that I would encounter a ‘new sun’ that might need my life-long support. I think that is you.”

The cats were playing around us. They also waited for us to sleep. Later, they slept on our couch, and eventually both moved on Akashy’s warm lap. She was pampering both on their necks and chests. Both cats were relaxing, laying together side by side as if two sisters. By this time, she was checking their teeth that needed to be cleaned, nails to be trimmed, and shampoo. Usually Akashy took care of her pets, but she had been so busy these days that could not do so.

It was early morning, one o’clock. We were still chatting. Just four days later she would leave Seattle for Switzerland.

I became emotionally weak as time neared to say goodbye to her at the airport. But she looked much matured and consciously committed to her goals. When I met her at our Habiganj brindabon college for the first time, she was shy and soft. Suddenly, the nightmare happened during the Bangladesh Liberation War in 1971 that profoundly changed her life and thought. She fought against the occupied armies in her detention camp with her wisdom, and later she escaped by foot over a long distance at night to India in a group of male freedom fighters. She served wounded freedom fighters as a nurse in Tripara, India. The occupied army killed her mathematician father in Habiganj, and his dead body was never found.

She said, “I will take two or three weeks’ vacation. Then I will arrange a trip for all of you to my place in Switzerland.”

“But I am worried about your attempt to travel alone now as you are pregnant and need extra aid for your safety.”

“Don’t worry. I will be cautious. It is not easy to travel there now for both of us together.” Akashy said.

She was lying on her side while I was on my back, turning my neck. She was running her fingers through my dark hair. She cleaned her lips with her fingers. I saw in the dim light that her eyes were almost wet as she kissed my forehead. Then I lifted my chest while I held her underneath me. She closed her eyes. I just kissed her lips again that might touch her soul. She held me tightly to her tiny warm chest. I felt it in the way she was kissing me. She wanted to switch off the bedside light.

She told me how to hold her chest and hips by tightly bracing her thighs with my legs. I never felt comfortable being totally naked. It seemed that she really did not care about it that much when she was with me. I get used to it. I spread the cotton rug out. In a few moments, both cats were on the rug close to Akashy’s legs. They loved warmth. Akashy got annoyed and asked me to switch the light on again.

She got off the bed without anything on her body and brought the cats’ sleeping pad and rugs from the wardrobe. Both cats were looking at her, probably because they’d never seen her naked. I felt ashamed. I curiously watched her as she got off the bed and her two breasts were attractively hanging and swinging. Her long black curly hair was spread on her back. However, without making any noise, I threw my long-sleeve oversized T-shirt that I found beside me on her back, but it fell on the floor.

She put the pad and rugs at the end of our bed and placed the cats together and covered them with the rug to sleep. I kept silent. Akashy returned to her bed and embraced my whole body with her arms. I kissed her. She pulled my right hand and rubbed it on her left breast. I knew she loved me to pamper her breasts. So I did.

She told me, “I wanted to teach these cats as they are also our family members that this is natural. There is no shame when it’s between you and me. Let them be conscious about the real relations by letting them see this naked scene of us – husband and wife. This is normal and natural. There is no scope of thinking the ancient way.”

I was just bewildered, and amazed with her views.