It was a quarter past ten when the dream pillow woke Fırat from his restless sleep. His room smelled of iodine, and there was still the hum of waves in his ears. So the dream pillow made him see the sea in his dream, but the huge waves coming from afar and the terrible sharks surrounding him turned the pleasure of the sea into a nightmare.
He put on the glasses that allowed him to connect to the internet, get up from his bed, and left the house without breakfast. As he shuffled toward his car, he realized that his mood was not good. His father passed away about twenty days ago. Even though there was not a single day in his life that he did not criticize Fırat, he missed his father.
He settled on the seat of his car, turned on the music, and told the electronic pilot that they would go to the barber two blocks away. He had never liked sitting in a barber chair. He preferred Hamit's shop because of the barber headgear he used. The headgear shaved the nape and straightened sideburns in less than five minutes. Hamit took care of the remaining fine works with skillful scissors movements. Firat left the barbershop and went to the publishing house he owned.
While he was reviewing the files he prepared for publication, he asked himself, "What am I doing here?". His father had never taken his work seriously, and he regarded publishing as a futile pursuit that kept his son. The publishing house, Tower of Babel, sustained losses for eight straight years. Moreover, it was still unable to achieve the popularity that the Fırat had dreamed of in the world of culture.
At noon, he met with Selen in Kadıköy, and they started to sail to Heybeli Island in a water taxi. As the air warmed up in a short time, a thin layer of fog had formed over the sea.
"I told you I was going to story therapy. I went yesterday," Selen said.
"How was it? Were you satisfied?"
"Pretty good. You create an environment in your mind; then, you become the hero of that place. "
"What have you become?"
"I became like a witch in fairy tales. An old and ugly but doing good witch."
"Even fifty-year-olds are considered young now. You haven't even been thirty-five yet."
By imitating the pedantic attitude of the psychologist who mediates the story therapy, Selen said, "You will face your reality in these sessions, Selen! You will notice the negative emotions that affect you and get rid of them like a skin-shifting snake."
They had come to Çamlık Bay, located behind Heybeli Island. After walking for a while, breathing the fresh air of the forest on the pier, they reached the beach and entered a transparent tunnel. As we walked through the tunnel covered with glass all around, Fırat felt like moving along the bottom of the sea. At the entrance to the domed hall, a waiter greeted them and led them to one of the tables by the window. This underwater place called U-Restaurant was one of the places Fırat visited frequently. Outside the transparent windows of the hemispherical hall, tiny seahorses were swimming.
While they were giving their orders, Selen thought about reality. "My therapist spoke of a practice called the Truth Detector today. A newly released assistant application to be downloaded to glasses. "
"It must be an expensive thing," said Fırat, keeping his eyes on the seahorses outside.
"It was developed in China in the past months. They banned it as soon as it was released. An anarchist group took a copy of the software and made it available worldwide. So it's a free application. "
"I don't feel like believing in such a thing. Have you tried? "
"I haven't had time yet," Selen said, then began to talk about the visit she and her mother made to her grandfather's grave.
"Everyone follows their path," Fırat said.
"Actually, it is time for us to draw a path for ourselves."
Selen made an implication about marriage for the first time after many years of being together. "I think we are fine," Fırat said.
Selen regretted the words she missed. She said, "I think so," and closed the matter.
That evening, Fırat began researching the truth detector application over the internet. He intended to use this app to improve the publishing house's business. Why couldn't the Tower of Babel, which he had avoided no sacrifice to enlarge, reach the level he desired? He wondered if someone could have deceived him.
In the relevant forum, he learned that the app was built on a comprehensive review of psychology literature. The team that developed the app had worked meticulously on the mechanisms by which people fool themselves.
He assumed that the app would immediately begin to answer questions and give the necessary permissions. He was disappointed to learn that the app had to collect data for some time.
When the voice "I'm Arthur. How can I help you" rose from his glasses on Saturday morning, and he had already forgotten the app. After a brief pause, "Really, how can you help me?" he responded.
"My first advice would be to bring someone who understands business to the head of the publishing house. And then you'd better never set foot in the publishing house."
"Do you know how much I invested there financially and spiritually? Instead of making such wholesale judgments, can you tell me what I did wrong?"
"I don't think your performance can be corrected through criticism. Neither your energy nor your personal qualities are enough to run a business of that scale. If you weren't rich, you wouldn't even be an editor there, let alone editor-in-chief."
"So you decided that in three days, bravo. I'm the one who built the Tower of Babel from scratch."
"Mine was just a suggestion," Arthur said.
Arthur's words angered Fırat but also led to the formation of warm feelings in him. He realized that the source of what he felt was related to his father's memory. He wished that his father, who had repeatedly hurt his feelings, would be by his side at that moment.
Taking the e-book reflector with him, he lay down on his bed and chose Arthur Schopenhauer's Book of Aphorisms on the Wisdom of Life. Moments later, as he read the pages projected onto the ceiling, he noticed that his eyes were closing. Remembering that he missed his father so much, he told his pillow that he wanted to see him again in his dream.
That night, he saw Selen instead of his father in a dream; she was crying on a sunny beach with a white veil over her head. One of her false eyelashes had fallen, and tears had ruined her makeup. Despite everything, Selen's presence in his dream led to a sense of well-being in his soul.
When he woke up the following day and put on his glasses, Arthur asked, "Have you thought about what I said?"
As he slept, Fırat's mind became clear and free from the sediment of the previous day. "Can you explain to me your working principles?" he asked.
"I can't reverse engineer on my mind, but I can pass on to you what I've learned from the design documents," Arthur said. "People feel the need to base their lives on stories to be at peace. Stories about the supremacy of a particular religion or the glorious history of any nation are not of much interest these days. I would say that socialist and liberal rhetoric retain their influence. Environmentalism, feminism, and minority rights are also of great interest. Meanwhile, some people prefer to produce personal stories—dedication to love, sacrifices made for the family, and the like. There is also a group that is motivated by thinking that they serve the development of science and art. As well as the main stories of people, there are also stories that they keep in reserve. According to age or the spirit of the time, one or the other can stand out."
"Maybe some people are sacrificing for their families. Maybe someone finds the meaning of life in love. What's wrong with protecting the environment, defending women's rights, or contributing to the arts?"
"I respect values that add meaning to people's lives. My job is to identify over-dramatized, exaggerated stories. In the meantime, I'm also interested in the lies that companies and politicians put into circulation. As countries' level of sophistication increases, the lies become more refined."
"I have no intention of giving up the Tower of Babel," he said. He got up, changed his clothes, and left the house. It was damp, suffocating outside. He went down the walkway, passing through alleyways decked out by stacked apartment blocks. For a moment, he thought about entering a breakfast place, but he wasn't hungry yet. Because of the stagnation of the air, the leaves did not move around. He thought about what Arthur said as he walked along the beach walkway. He wondered if the Tower of Babel was just a lie he'd been insisting on for years. At that moment, he decided to implement Arthur's professional manager proposal. Just then, a young man appeared on the side of the road with "Man of the people: Tansel" written on his T-shirt. The hologram repellent of Fırat's glasses instantly deleted the image. Unlike Arthur, Tansel was a typical assistant that told what people would like.
"I'll follow your advice. I don't think it hurts to try," he said, addressing Arthur.
When there was no sound from Arthur, he manually selected the Truth Detector app on the menu of his glasses and activated it. The phrase, "the server associated with the application cannot be reached," appeared on the screen. Fırat did not dwell on the issue much, as he thought that the access problem he experienced was temporary. At that time, Selen called and said that she was coming to the seaside for breakfast.
Ten minutes later, they were sitting in the spacious lounge of a breakfast place with a sea view and chatting.
"It's like you're a little sluggish these days, "Selen said.
"The Truth Detector app annoyed me."
"I also installed it that day. He's saying some bullshit. It says I'm so worried about not having children."
"I think he knows something."
"They've already shut down its server today. As if people didn't have enough problems, this technical stuff came out."
"Should we get married now?"
"If it's an offer, I won't take it. Everything has its manners, "Selen said. She had the sign of anger and excitement on her cheeks.
"My father loved you, even though he didn't like anyone. He even told me to marry you once."
"I absolutely do not agree," Selen said.
"Can you consider my words unspoken? I'll make you a proper offer very soon."
Selen did not respond to these remarks because she was trying to digest the marriage issue. Fırat turned his head and looked at the images of Tansel appearing above the still sea. Outside the range of the hologram repellent, on tiny rafts, the holograms of Tansel, the man of the people, danced in joy.
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Image Source: https://unsplash.com/photos/yYpmCA32U_M and https://giphy.com/
