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We kept on climbing.
Planes once whizzed over this steep mountain path. They sprayed chemicals on the plants. The Great War defeated technology, materialism, the nation state. Now all power was spiritual power, all struggles spiritual struggles. My mother told me about the day in 2114 when the war was won. The babble stopped, no newspapers, radios, TV. In the peace, little voices were heard.
'What is this song?' I asked. He had stopped singing.
'It's from the diwan of Sheik Al'Alawi'.
'I'll tell you a riddle', I said.
'Why were Americans good?'
His wide grey eyes, a lilt in his voice, 'I don't know. Why were Americans good?'
'On their money they wrote, In God we trust'.
He smiled. 'Carry me', I said. He shook his head. We kept on climbing.
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