The Haunting of Tram Car 015 (Dead Djinn Universe) by P. Djèlí Clark

Author:P. Djèlí Clark [Clark, P. Djèlí]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 2019-02-18T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

That next morning, Ramses Station was abuzz with activity. People had been pouring into the transportation hub since dawn, coming in by tram from throughout Cairo and on airships from all over the country. They were overwhelmingly women: young and old, Copts and Muslims, in trendy urban styles or the more traditional dress, in factory-worker smocks and nurse’s uniforms, in school outfits and professional government attire. They came with placards and banners naming their towns and villages and cities, chanting, clapping and singing as they joined the swelling crowds. Signs calling for the vote were everywhere, many with images of activists and even a few with the queen. A sprawling flag bearing the Janus-faced Hatshepsut symbol of the Egyptian Feminist Sisterhood hung from an upper railing beside another bearing the words THE WOMEN OF ’79 LIVE ON! The atmosphere was nothing less than electric as everyone waited at this historic spot to hear parliament’s decision on granting the greatest right to the majority of Egypt’s populace.

Hamed fidgeted with the veil covering his face as he and Onsi walked across the floor of Ramses Station. When he had agreed to the younger man’s plan, he had hoped that they would simply don gallabiyahs, still worn in public by men and women in more rural areas. But Abla had insisted that wouldn’t do and managed to find an all-night tailor in the Khan who could have something done in hours. The man had been as good as his word, fitting and preparing dresses for them to pick up by morning. For such short notice, the garments were decidedly fancy—all white and fashioned in the mix of Parisian and Egyptian styles popular among upper-class Cairene women, with matching round hats covered in semi-sheer veils that wrapped their faces in small clouds.

Despite his discomfort, Hamed had to admit Onsi’s logic had been sound. The spirit would only appear to women. So if they were going to draw it out themselves, they needed to be seen as women. It was commonly known that spirits had a peculiar tunnel-vision when it came to such things. Dress an inanimate object as a person, and they took it for just that. Leave out some rocks instead of food, and they’d try to devour them. For many spirits, perception was reality. Thus, it only stood to reason that this al would take them for what it sought, if they looked the part.

That was easier said than done.

For about the third time, Hamed nearly stumbled in the short white heels that matched his long dress. How modern women got about in these things he couldn’t possibly figure out. What made it worse were the extra pounds he carried—a great deal of stuffing that made his stomach bulge out to mimic a woman with child. Onsi had sought to make them play their parts perfectly, going as far as to weigh down the cushioned prosthesis with dense material. It made for a heavy load to bear.

“You have to keep your feet spread apart!” Onsi instructed, sidling up to him.

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