Tehran Noir by Salar Abdoh

Author:Salar Abdoh
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, book
Publisher: Akashic Books
Published: 2014-08-11T04:00:00+00:00

IN THE FLOPHOUSE

BY FARHAAD HEIDARI GOORAN

Gomrok

I could hear the woman’s voice coming from the bottom of the deep pit right in the middle of that traffic circle. A sentry stood over the hole. Some soldier boy with the initials M.R. written on his uniform.

“Can’t you just throw her a rope and let her climb out?”

He glared at me. “My job’s to guard. Nothing else.”

His accent said it all. A Kurd from Kermanshah. Hometown kid. I put my own accent in high gear and told him to be a good sport and listen to the advice of a guy from back home.

He glared at me again and barked, “Speak proper Persian and I’ll listen to you.”

“All right then. Don’t you feel anything for her? Look at this hole. She could be hurt. She could be pregnant.”

Soldier boy sneered, “Sure, must have been the cat made her pregnant.”

I persisted, “But what’s she done wrong? Why keep her in there?”

Now soldier boy stepped up and eyeballed me hard. “The Public Decency Patrol and the guys from the Office of Combat Against Corrupt and Immoral Behavior will be around soon. They’ll know what to do with the likes of her. Besides, what’s it to you? What do you do for a living? Huh?”

“I work in textiles and fabrics. I’m an engineer.”

He gave me a once-over and zeroed in on my beat-up shoes. “The last thing you look like to me is an engineer.”

I might have stood up to him a little more, but he was armed and I saw that he had his trigger finger ready. I didn’t like how he was scowling at me either. Suddenly I felt fearful and pulled back from him. There were trees in the middle of the traffic circle. Black trees thick with soot. I leaned against one that had a single crow perched on its branch. The bird kept flapping its wings but didn’t make a sound. That woman, though, the one in the pit—she was definitely making a sound. Bawling, I suppose.

I’d only arrived in town that morning at the Azadi terminal. Exhausted and thirsty, I’d gotten the Help Wanted ads right away and went to work. No time for stopping to eat or drink. I’d pop into one office after another and fill their job application forms. Sure, we’ll get back to you. That was mostly what I heard from one faceless human resources manager after another.

By sunset I was half dead and my stomach was sour and hurting from too much lemonade, which was the only thing I’d had all day. It was as if I could see that accursed drink making its way through my intestines. But I still had to get myself to a Coffee Net run by an old college friend of mine. There was one company that had asked for an e-mail attachment of my résumé. They were interested in designs of civilian and military clothes and they also manufactured shrouds for corpses. Your typical semigovernmental company with a hand in everything.

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