Sisters of the Mosque Pt. 01

This story is the first in terms of the scale of the text and my idea. All characters are adults.

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Interview room number 2, City X police station, June 23, 2014.

Call Recording #11351

- Ma'am, please rest assured, we are taking all measures to find your son. We have already contacted..

- What actions are you taking? I called the embassy myself two hours ago, and they told me that no instructions were received from you regarding the incident! Should I fly to this damn country myself?!

- We are already looking into the incident, our department contacted their police and they said that they would conduct an investigation, they also..

- He's been out of touch for a whole week! Why can't they find him in such a short time if they have "everything under control", huh?!

- Please don't interrupt, we were informed that he was seen in the city on video cameras, which means the search area is not that wide, it will just take some time.

- How much? A month? Two? Or maybe a year???

Officer, with a dull look, was tired of repeating the same phrase, so he simply ignored the endless exclamations of the irritated woman.

- Despite the distance, we are in contact with their local staff, please calm down, this is all we can do now..

___

Two weeks earlier. June 9, 2014. Indonesia, outskirts of Jakarta.

The blinding sun shone so strongly that it seemed as if it wanted to burn Michael's eyes out - the world around him seemed so bright. The young guy, who had lived all his youth in the rather harsh climate of the northern part of England, and had never seen a subtropical climate before, praised the local nature and tall trees with lush green foliage. From the moment he arrived in this country, he had generally noticed many strange, or at least unusual things for him. Everyone was somehow overly good-natured - stewardesses, sellers of things, and even a patriotic taxi driver, who chatted tirelessly about the greatness of his country the whole way, drove him to the outskirts of the city, dropped him off at the foot of the mountain and kindly treated him to water and a map-guide to the area that had appeared out of nowhere.

The mountainside that Michael had to climb along a stone-paved path was like a road to heaven - the heat of the sun's rays burned his back even through the dense crowns of the trees, and he had already broken out in a tenth sweat by the time he got here. The road that was supposed to lead him to the mosque gradually became more and more inclined, and at some point, he wondered if he was going in the right direction at all. Having decided not to take out his smartphone, which was dying from the heat (and there might not be any Internet here at all), to the twittering of unknown birds, after some time he was able to climb a small hill, from where a more refined road began.

He glanced at the path he had been climbing - the thin stone path was not visible at all behind the crowns of the huge trees, but the road along which the taxi driver had brought him, from this angle, generally resembled a small gray river. Sighing from the stuffiness, he continued his way through some tropical forest and soon the correctness of his path was confirmed by a sign in Indonesian and English - a temple, or rather a mosque "Masjid Besar Cipaganti", translated as "the great mosque of something there." At least, that's what the translator said.

Walking along the finish line and seeing the tops of the gigantic high building, Michael for some reason suddenly had a thought - was it really worth agreeing to a two-month trip to an unknown country JUST to study the history of Asian religions right in the "epicenter" of the event? Couldn't his university library give him as much knowledge as here? After all, globalization and progress have given every knowledge-hungry person in the world an infinitely valuable resource for this - the Internet. Perhaps it would be cooler not to dry out in the heat God knows where, but to lie on the couch at home, listen to a history lecture in a remote format and wash it down with something cool... But he had already made his choice - after all, flying to a tropical country for free and gawking at the views of nature is also an enticing thing, although the reason for the trip itself is not "entertaining".

Finally, after about half an hour of walking, the guy came out of the forest and looked around at this huge white-stone structure, consisting, as he assumed, of a complex of many buildings. The entrance to the territory was fenced with a very well decorated metal black fence, so just anyone could not get into the territory of the mosque. Having knocked on the ancient bell, he began to wait.

Literally a minute later, a black figure appeared from behind the decorated bushes in front of the buildings in the distance - upon approaching, it turned out that it was just a girl dressed in standard "religious-traditional" clothing. Michael had good eyesight, so he, like any guy seeing a girl, instinctively noticed that even though her body was completely wrapped in a hijab, her figure, from her lush hips to a decent size chest, could be freely seen in silhouette. Her Asian, dark face with a small mole on her cheek, resembled.. the face of a typical Asian Muslim woman.

Except that her eyebrows were heavily emphasized with foundation, and overall, her face was wearing makeup. Muslim women.. do they use makeup?.. - thinking to himself, Michael didn't even notice how the girl (incidentally, about the same age as him) appeared close to the other side of the gate and looked at him with a puzzled and sarcastic expression.

- Permisi, apakah Anda butuh sesuatu? - Having heard an incomprehensible language, he came to his senses and blinked, remembering why he came here in the first place.

- Excuse me, do you speak English? - He didn't know the local language, so he had to improvise a little.

The girl, hearing a speech that was foreign to her, seemed to have understood something in her head, nodded, and, gesturing "1 minute," literally skipped off somewhere.

- She's kind of strange - the guy literally blurted out.

Every minute felt like an hour in the heat. Some time later, someone appeared on the horizon behind the bushes again - this time, there were two of them. In one figure, Michael recognized the previous girl, the other was much taller (Michael's height is ~ 173 cm) and looked older, about 30 years old. In terms of clothing, they were both identical - the only thing that distinguished them was that the older woman's figure was even "wider" than the young one - her hips were the size of two large watermelons, and her chest was the size of two footballs. And all this - under an enveloping black robe, hypnotizing with its silky, sun-reflecting shell. Approaching him, the older woman, without saying anything, took the keys out of her pocket, and finally opened the gate, gesturing for him to enter. Michael, trying to study the situation as rationally as possible, nodded slightly and went inside. The older woman said something to the girl, who nodded and began to go somewhere into the garden. Having locked the gate, the woman began to speak in good English, looking the guy straight in the eyes.

- You are Michael Schmidt, right?

The guy was somewhat taken aback by the fact that she knew his name. Even though these servants (probably) did not pose any danger, almost immediately after he entered the mosque territory, he began to feel some kind of... silence, or something. It was inexplicable - as if all nature on the territory suddenly became silent. Looking at her, his gaze was drawn to the sand figure of the servant, but a moment after he looked there, he immediately looked away somewhere beyond her, trying to behave as casually as possible.

- Yes, it's me. How did you recognize me?

For some reason, the attendant smiled easily right after his question.

- You see, it's not every day that we enroll foreigners, especially... people like you.

Her tone at the last phrase acquired a strange tone, but she, as if sensing this, almost immediately changed her rhetoric.

- We usually have students from nearby countries like Singapore, China, and Japan. Don't think it's rude if they stare at you for a bit "long", like you're a black sheep.

The woman smiled casually.

- I am Farida Sabrina, a senior first-level mosque attendant. The girl who met you is Fanny Ernavati, but you don't need to know her name, you're unlikely to see each other often.

He found her remark rather rude, but there was no point in mentioning it. The woman meanwhile drilled a hole in him with her soft gaze and continued to speak casually.

- Since we are a little short of people, I have been appointed your curator for this place. I have a lot to tell you, but I think that you..

She glanced at his clothes and glanced sideways at his backpack.

-.. We are quite tired after a long journey.

Her smile scared the guy a little, but already knowing the passion for friendliness of the local population, there was no reason to worry. He smiled in response to the offer.

- Oh, you're reading my mind. Thank you, I wouldn't mind sleeping.

Her smile grew wider after his agreement, and she told him to follow her.

The way she walked in front of me was beyond words - her hips, even completely hidden in the black silk robe of her dress, stood out so much from under the fabric that he could not help but tear his gaze away from them - only when they passed other attendants (who glanced at him out of interest) did he raise his gaze and try to look straight ahead, where they were going. After passing the entrance garden, they entered the main one - stone paths gracefully curved around the trimmed grass. Ornamental trees and bushes grew on the lawn - some girl in the distance was trimming the bushes. The lines between the paths and the grass were divided by red flowers - he had never seen such an expressive color decoration.

After walking a couple dozen meters, they finally approached a building that resembled an ancient dormitory for noble girls in its style of construction - it was two-story, made of some grayish stone, while Michael did not notice any traces of time on it - apparently, in life without the Internet, the only thing left to do was clean, plant vegetation, and clean the facades of buildings. They went under the closed roof part of the path to the left of the building - on the right there was a wall and benches, on the left through the fence the garden began again. The attendant turned right, and, entering the wide common hall, stopped, took off her shoes, and gestured for him to do the same.

- Please wait. I'll give you a change of slippers now.

She went to the nightstands and started looking for a men's size, while Michael looked at the ceiling - the walls of the common room were white as quartz, and the ceiling was covered with some historical drawings, hieroglyphs, and everything in the style of the Islamic religion. Hearing the soft sound of slippers falling to the floor, he lowered his head and looked at the attendant. She was smiling invitingly.

- You like it, huh? Don't worry, we'll have plenty of time to explore everything.

Michael nodded, trying to appear friendly. She led him out of the room, down the corridor, past many doors that must have been living quarters. As before, she walked ahead.

- Since the mosque is all female, there is no separation in any sense, but we have a couple of completely empty buildings in the building where you can temporarily settle. The dormitory is connected by a closed corridor to the prayer room and the dining room, so it will be very convenient for you to move around here.

Michael listened, trying to remember every word - asking a question again was considered bad form in their culture.

- That's wonderful. May I ask, how do you know English so well?

The attendant stopped and turned around rather abruptly, so that Michael barely had time to tear his gaze away from her hips.

- Before becoming a senior minister, I studied at the Capital University and studied many sciences. Their program also included English and French.

Her brows became slightly furrowed.

- By the way, I understand that you know almost nothing about our culture, but this does not mean that you have the right not to observe it. I ask you, from now on, when addressing me, to call me "Sister Farida".

Michael was a little taken aback by the sudden change in her tone, but in principle, she was right.

- I apologize, Sister Farida, if I offended you in any way.

Hearing this, her gaze softened, but there was still a hint of severity in her voice.

- You don't have to apologize. Just respect the other culture - if you forget any rules or customs in front of me, I'll let you know. But if it happens in public, it's a bigger risk.

He didn't quite understand what she meant - he would hardly find himself in a public place in any situation that required serious fulfillment of cultural requirements, but he didn't want to ask about it - as if her words were not very important.

- I understand you, Sister Farida, then, if it's not too much trouble, please remind me more often about the rules here. I'll try.

He tried to appease her, but perhaps he would regret his request in the future.

- Okay, if you ask like that. I'll help you get settled in.

She smiled faintly and continued walking.

- As I already said, there is no division into male and female buildings, so you will need to allocate some time so that you can take water treatments.

They went up to the second floor, passed several doors and Farida began looking for the right key.

- We have everything on schedule - our attendants take water procedures exactly in the morning and evening, so you can calmly wash yourself in between these times. Even right now.

She opened the door and motioned for him to come in. The room was quite nice to look at - two beds on each wall, a large window in the middle that let in a rather cool breeze, and two branches that appeared to have work areas and cabinets for books and other things. Michael placed his backpack next to one of the tables. Farida followed him in, closed the door, and watched his reaction.

"It's quite a pleasant room, Sister Farida." Michael turned to her and smiled.

- The only thing that worries me is..

He looked under the table and was relieved to see the electrical outlets.

- Ah, here I found it.

Farida smiled and walked towards him.

- There will be everything here for you and comfortable study of your area of expertise. Now I will need to bring you a change of bed linen and then I will show you the bathrooms, and in the meantime, you can settle in, I will be gone for about seven minutes, so you can change without fear.

- Thank you.

The woman left. Michael opened a large backpack and began to take out things - clothes, shoes, a couple of old but useful books that were not available in electronic form, a laptop, chargers for it and a smartphone, and other accessories, including bathroom supplies. Having laid everything out on the bed, he decided to put it all in the closet later, since unpacking these things would take him quite a long time. Instead, he opened the second window - from the building he could see the garden they had passed through, the path to the other two buildings, and almost the entire perimeter, enclosed by a decorative fence.

Taking off his sweaty clothes, he folded them and threw them into a bag, put on shorts, a light T-shirt and sat down on the bed, scrolling through his smartphone. He had to spend almost two months here before flying back - all this time he had to diligently study the literature that was difficult to convert into electronic form - manuscripts and packages, past time, and not only them. As it turned out, the Internet here is quite weak - this is if he bought a pretty good SIM card at the airport. Having written to his mother that everything was fine with him, he made sure that the message was sent and began to wait for the mentor - she came quickly, and they left the room, then the building, and his sister led him to the showers, along the way telling him what and where is.

- Sister Farida, please tell me, where can I wash my clothes? - Michael asked this question because he already had something to wash. In this weather, clothes will have to be washed quite often. Farida nodded into the distance without turning around.

- The laundry is in the same place as the shower. Do you have a lot of clothes?

- Well, not now, but in this heat, I would be happy to use the washing machine at least once every three days..

Farida looked at him from under her shoulder and smiled mysteriously.

- Oh, I hope your clothes are cotton? It's obvious, but we do have some very hot days. If yours are synthetic, I would insist that we give you our traditional heat-resistant clothes.

Michael knew a lot of things, but he really hadn't thought about the material of his clothes - his mother told him to take some things, so he was pretty sure that his clothes were made of natural materials.

- Thank you, sister, but I think I have cotton, or some other natural clothes.

- Okay, but let me, when we get back, look at your clothes and check their heat resistance. Believe me, it will be very bad if you get sunstroke or worse.

In principle, he didn't mind. When they came out from under the trees, the heat really became as if he had entered a Russian bathhouse.

- I don't mind, sister.

They approached a one-story building resembling a dormitory in style. Entering it, he discovered that the central entrance was also made entirely of quartz, and the ceiling was covered with some ancient symbols that were as similar as possible to those he had already seen, so he did not look around for long.

- I'll give you a full tour for the first time, but from now on you'll be using the showers yourself, so try to remember everything I tell you. - Farida's voice became more serious, so Michael wondered what was so complicated about the showers.

They entered a rather cramped room with benches and many wooden cabinets, reminiscent of a dressing room, only in some ancient form. Each cabinet had a name written on it and for some reason a photo of a girl attached, especially strangely - in a hijab. The sister began to count the long row of cabinets and stopped somewhere around the second ten before opening it and making sure it was empty.

- Here is your free locker. It used to belong to a young minister, but she was transferred to another temple, so it is empty in the middle. Put your bath slippers and other things you brought here, soap and shampoos are already there for you.

Michael came closer and looked inside the closet - nothing special, the entire space was divided into three shelves. As he began to put things away, he felt floral scent coming from the closet itself, but considering who was using it, it was not a big surprise. Just a residual smell of shampoo. All this time, the nun was watching him attentively, standing on the left side of the bench.

- Remember where your locker is because we can't write on things like that. The easiest way is to just count from the beginning to the end, personally I counted that it's number 23.

Michael should have wondered why he couldn't just change the photo and name on what was now his closet, but he was in a rush to get cleaned up and into bed, so he didn't ask around and made sure the locker was number 23.

- Yes, sister, you are right.

- Okay. I'll go and check your clothes for now and tell the sisters in the library that we have a guest.

- Wait, how will you check this?

Farida turned around with displeasure, as if some bad voice had cursed her.

- Please, call me by my proper name - I told you literally five minutes ago that your clothes may not be suitable for our climate.

She turned sharply and walked towards the exit. All he managed to say was:

- Please forgive me, Sister Far..

The door slammed shut. Well, what happened, happened. He was convinced for the tenth time that the nun was kind of strange and went into the shower room itself.

___

The shower felt nice and fresh - Michael turned on the cool water, feeling the sweat and dust wash off his body. It was a truly amazing feeling. He didn't even particularly care that the nun seemed to have gotten "angry" at him. It would pass. The soap he received gave off a strong herbal aroma. The shampoo smelled like tea.

Turning off the water, he dried himself and changed, feeling in a new form - putting on fresh clothes, he made sure that he had not forgotten anything, and closing the locker behind him, he left the shower. The way back took some time, and when Michael climbed the stairs to the dorm, he did not understand whether he was still wet or already sweating again - but when he entered, his thoughts were occupied by another thing, and he was surprised. Sister Farida was sorting through something - as it turned out, these were his things. Michael looked closely - she was rearranging the piles as if she was replacing them with something, as it turned out, it was some other clothes. She continued to do this, as if not noticing him.

Michael approached.

- Sister Farida, what are you doing?... - he tried to keep his voice calm, but in some sense her behavior was starting to irritate him. She, however, looked at him as calmly as possible and answered:

- If you don't learn to listen, I'm afraid you won't stay in this place for long, dear sir.

She turned to face him, holding one of his colorful t-shirts.

- I don't know what the clothing standards are in your country, but the quality of this outerwear is simply disgusting! It's worse than the material from which tires are made. This is no good. Almost everything except your underwear will have to be confiscated for your own good.

- Wait, how can you confiscate it, you don't..

- Don't worry, I'm not saying that I'm taking this away from you forever. I'll give you these clothes back, it's just.. right now they might cause you to overheat.

She looked as confident as she could. So confident that Michael began to back away.

- Look at the thermometer. 37 degrees Celsius! You'll be boiled alive in this synthetic material. It's better to wear clothes that are more unremarkable in color, but much more comfortable for this temperature - she picked up one of her "T-shirts" that she had brought with her from somewhere. It was a long-sleeved T-shirt that reached the very beginning of the palm. Black.

Michael was so taken aback by her strangeness and behavior that he just mumbled, not knowing what to answer. Meanwhile, the attendant successfully stuffed all his outerwear into the bag, along with his pants.

- Uh, wait.. Sister, but why them?..

And again, a similar situation repeated itself, after which Michael finally gave in, seeing how Farida with a menacing look was taking away his things. Now all that was left of his things were underpants, socks, and caps. He picked up one of the "T-shirts", which looked more like robe - it had a hood, which he did not notice at first. In fact, Farida was right to some extent - this magical material was so high-quality that it reflected heat and was cool even to the touch. But now he decided not to check it. He was consoled by the fact that she at least allowed him to keep one pair of shorts and a T-shirt that he was wearing. However, the mood was still spoiled - he fell into bed and fell asleep. He felt some strange, floral smell from the pillow and the fabric in general.. Maybe this is the kind of powder they used?..

Before he could finish his thought, he fell asleep.

END OF PART ONE.

Dear readers!

If you liked the first part, leave reactions and comments!

I'm a young author and I have literally zero stories on my account, but I'm willing to try for you. Write your ideas, I'll read them, and maybe implement them in future parts!

Thanks for reading!