"It is He who has sent down to you, the Book; in it are verses [that are] precise - they are the foundation of the Book - and others unspecific. As for those in whose hearts is deviation [from truth], they will follow that of it which is unspecific, seeking discord and seeking an interpretation [suitable to them]. And no one knows its [true] interpretation except Allah . But those firm in knowledge say, "We believe in it. All [of it] is from our Lord." And no one will be reminded except those of understanding." Quran 3:7
This is used most often
Praised be God, Lord of the Universe, the Beneficent, the Merciful and Master of the Day of Judgment, You alone We do worship and from You alone we do seek assistance, guide us to the right path, the path of those to whom You have granted blessings, those who are neither subject to Your anger nor have gone astray.
Am I recieving of a thawab, or, have I strayed from the path and now subject to the anger of Allah?
At some point we have to recognized technology adding a step in another direction with "all that is written". Even doing so, the Ages frame the Quran, correctly in their day, but distorted in later ages.
This simple critique, I believe all Muslims take to heart since we have been swept up into the digital age.
To narrow in, reforms such as the Napoleonic Code, the US Constitution, the International Treaty of Antarctica, a handful of global Regulators, Bureau's of Environment Science, with policy specifically regarding global warming, inform our own approach to the regulation of mankind's being, first and best foot forward, by the wisdom of the Quran.
I remember now the very scene with my Mullah, Mullah Akbar, and I remember it so clearly...
The larger point was spoken by Akbar al Fusam, wherein, in my studies as hafiz, which requires a most scientific memory, Mullah Akbar said, "...using these various governments: Theocracy, Shamanism, Military Dictatorship, Monarchy, Libertarian, Capitalist, Plutocracy, Oligarchy, Republic, and Socialist, because we know its instant reference. is the sudden shock of heterogenous subjects, so that the famous Buddhists scholar's "thank you for computers" meant questions formerly spent researching old scrolls for years has become five minutes. Herein, we can see the wonder of the Quran for its perfect fit into such dexterous indexing and cross referencing. Old ages fall aside to the renewed vision of this Quran.
Just apply that compression of a single subject into the compression of multiple subjects...and one gets the old industrial Political Scientist a leg up, some leverage, wherein, among those he or she witnesses the political force of the Quran as the brightest bulb casting the most harsh light."
I said in response to him, as his favored pupil,
"Industrial versions of these must be considered...there was Democracy and Republics without Industrialism."
He paused. I remember the pride I felt, then of course the shame...meanwhile, Mullah Akbar had formulated the prompt into a new insight; "First unlimited resources as the ongoing momentum of the frontier took ahold of industrial minds as well. Industrialism's own demise was in its overcoming, finally, the unknowable and wicked frontier.
At its demise, its death throes were Wars over resources, but only during a few generations...with the old uptick in fear of invasion.
Then, a de-emphasis on the resource system, old capitalism, and a emphasis on human resources, including drive, motivation and emotion, These were divided between three media worlds, the literate, the visual/art and the live...this is the source of the vision of new capitalism."
I said;
"New capitalism being what can you work to keep people's minds off of Religion."
Akbar responded,
"Only, this competes. And the form of execution for competition is that the voices seek to silence each other, or, managed in turn by the consumer/believer, speak the most truth to their comprehensive capacity."
Then, brilliantly, Mustafa said:
"Those who binge watch are probably the most confused, or, the most questioning."
Akbar took his attention away from me, and spoke to Mustafa:
"As to confusion, well, it only last for awhile and people naturally settle into who they are, despite the very many abuses and liberties, sacrifices and mistakes.
As to questioning...well, we all do that too, some more then others. Not a half and half division either...I feel the most questioning are the most intuitive, and the intuitive person is about one fourth of the human character."
Mustafa had read the material and now responded again, stealing more of my thunder:
"A reactionary character who may be more susceptible to confusion. A 'be-or" rather than a "actor"."
I said, and I feel the pain of this even now, this pain of half thought executed out of a need for attention, working for no one and then only against myself. Aye!
I said:
"I learned that I was good at questioning, and also very passionate for questioning. I grew up in the ideal milieu to cultivate intuition and questioning for my father was a Mullah and a mother, a Librarian....and, I fit in to the demands of that milieu...reading and only then much later, writing."
Akbar did not acknowledge me, and turned his back to us, I think, closing the contribution moment, in order to continue his speech.
"So, though we all may quest more...these most adventurous of my fellow I must serve due to having good reading and writing skills!"
So, these skills were founded on tutelage of Islam.
In this respect we might frame Religion as the great capacitors and the hardest views on humanity. While Art eventually became a challenge to the continuing success of early literate mercantilism, and of course the long, slow Historical phenomenon of the easing of fear and discomfort.
There is a industrial transformation point...maybe when air conditioning and telephones became commonplace...and another Industrial transformation, when entertainment&news frequently overtook Religion in the minds of people.
That then, was the technology as soullessness, the 24 hour news the mind of Frankenstein's Monster, which could not be the truth! For the "news" then merged with Entertainment.
Yet, it is rectified by the digital age. Through the news we go back into History, and with digital technology this gravitas is released...
Furthermore, we are more comfortable and healthy...there is the constant decline of fear which better substantiates each succeeding generations sense of self, self worth, and strength social cohesion. This reduction in mind bending anxieties and terror had a blip lately, yet now we have three generations of distant global rumbles only to trouble our minds.
Even less fearful, as the Industrial accelerated, then deaccelerated fear.
Now our youths of today are optimistic, despite their poverty.
My youth directly proceeded them, with a hangover of doom and gloom...the Apocalypse a weekly fancy, and not just a single incident long ago in the History class.
The optimism is also floating alongside instant reference. Praise Allah!
Yet what we all are all most in awe with, is the vision of Science.
Space Racing. Asteroid Mining.
So we are trying to make improvements...on Humanity, as the gravitas of Religion now returns to challenge the Modern.
For they are making Mutations. They believe in physical singularity, wherein, the monsters are displayed by their own Artists...most prominent HR Giger.
Here is why I am terrified! I must remember that tutelage can reveal the root of a fear that is buried in form, though the meaning remains...like radioactive half life!
In the silence and peace, after my prayer to Allah, I heard myself thinking. Strange, for I was so very afraid...I had given up in fear, yet, not cowering, praying, I waited. But in the prayer, I forgot the fear...not sure for how long.
Anyway, thinking now, yes, I did not know, I thought it was cloning when I came in.
This is the only light, but I know batteries are in the laptop elsewhere. Every apartment has one.
Its going to be a lot of monsters out there, before you can get away. Allah is not done with you.
I thought to myself. This voice of mine was not claiming to be speaking as Allah, but, more like a translator of Allah, as the Mullah would. Was it, yes, yet, now I am alone, there is no more Mullah.
I doubt these mutants are of some hollywood variety. That is effecting me now. No, they will be more like bacterial infections and virus producers. Or, food for the carnivores that may exist.
It was a big fiery explosion. The Fire consumed all the air, I suffocated, and I could not breath.
When I woke, it was dark. Everything was hotter. I felt around in the dark for this laptop and turned it on.
I can imagine the use of the tunnel coming down...it was circular, a cistern. Perhaps they fill it it with water and flood the area until the fire stops. Since both doors, the outer hallway door and my own door, there is no water. Also, there are four other doors.
These were designed for quarantine as, perhaps, all the living quarters.
Yet I do not believe in ridiculous monster from pre-Islamic mythologies, there may be survivors, yet, operations all have shut down.
The door can be opened. I went out into the hallway and checked the outer door. Of course, I could see right and left of me there were three closed doors, the other doors of this pod. The pod outer door worked as well.
I cracked it open and peeked out. It was all off. Emergency lights..perhaps the wires burned.
The tank light was on, but that was only a glow on the edges of the far door on the opposite part...the this petal of the pod.
Around the corner, into the center pod, part of the aquarium must still be on.
Water could be heard sloshing, as if someone was walking.
I came upon the thought, should I call out, and call it over to me? Or, should I keep quiet, and listen while?
I listened.
It, sounded like waves against a shore, however, the waves lapped in a way that was not mechanical.
I had the best perspective, nearly down the axis of the petal to pod door, I could make out the side of it, and the frame by stepping out into the darkness further I could see more, the gate and perhaps the aquarium itself...but I did not step out.
There was dripping, but one drip was occasion spray, unlike the spray of a sprinkler.
There was no voice, no groaning I thought, I hoped, but the swishing stopped and there was a distant voice groaning, in the other pod, across from the center pod.
The waves subsided as I waited.
I peeked my head out, to see around the shred of light. It was darkness, darker than any I had known.
I closed the door and came back inside. I should work in longer bursts of energy, but I must pray.
I am a beneficiary of the Hadrat. I must be saved to further destroy this place, eventually incinerating it, I do not have to die, for I must seek out and destroy another.
The book says,
"Six, have you not considered how your Lord dealt with Aad, the forever lost?
Seven, and Iram – who had lofty pillars, of white. Eight, the likes of whom had never been created in the lands. Nine, and given to Thamud who carved out the rocks in the valley, dotting them with their new generations? Ten, and Pharaoh, owner of the stakes? Eleven, in this day, all whom oppressed within the lands, those who yearn for cosmic justice against the invaders. Twelve, and its ensuing corruption. Thirteen, so your Lord poured upon them a scourge of punishment. Fourteen, indeed, your Lord is in observation."
This is my Jihad now. I hope I do not take sides, through how pitiful they might be. I know there are burn victims, yet alive. I hear their cries, and I cannot turn away. This suffering.
Mercy be to Allah.
I must get to know those who are still alive, and found out where I may go next. They might know how to destroy these kind of buildings. An Engineer would be ideal. I know its mostly full of Doctors and Scientists though. I wonder how many of them will believe, will have faith.
It does not really matter. This was a Holy mission, and they will pass into grace. Allah is merciful, these are also martyrs for Islam and the Caliphate.
So I must bring the laptop and find a flashlight. I will inspect the other rooms, perhaps there is a flashlight in every room?
I was very apprehensive, so I put the gun in my holster, and the survival knife on my belt. I had a screwdriver, a small hammer, bits, things in a small toolkit.
I will work outside, and attract whomever to me, for, the groaning was never the scream of attack, or there warning of the other disabled. Burned very badly, all of them, I am sure.
I went out the door, to the single room to the left, and tried to open the door; locked.
The next one, past mine,
there was a bench to sit on. I almost ran into that which was forgotten in the moment of fear.
That door was closed and locked. The last door was closed and locked. They were not electronically locked for there is no electricity. They could be pried open.
I went back inside, pausing to listen.
I heard the sloshing again, this time, coming closer. It had been an hour. I made no sound, however, I felt my breathing was echoing and heard by all. The moaning had multiplied.
I stepped into the door. They were finely made and had fireproof carpet. I closed it as I had opened, with minimizing vibration.
The click of the magnetics made some vibration. I put my ear to the door. I remember the bad American Horror movie with the spear going through the door into my head...but I was unafraid. There was no sound.
I stood up. Came back to the laptop. I had to find another battery. I had to find a flashlight. I had to get through those walls...which I think would be easier than getting through the doors. However, the ducts were smaller than human.
I unscrewed the duct and pushed enough to note the ducts were screwed into a wood frame.
I merely had to saw around the wood frame. I had the survival knife. I slowly worked it into the wall where the wood seemed to be.
I sawed out an H. I pulled out the heavy insulation carefully and stowed it, all while using the laptop screen as my light.
I could see the back of the wall of the other room. I could reach, but not push hard enough with the knife. I attached to the bottom of a chair leg. I pierced the wall, but it loud. No, not really. I paused, heard nothing, and slowly sawed. The chair was heavy. It took hours.
I could crawl through. I brought the laptop, it lit the room well.
in my mind I heard, signing, a militant style song. We create them to be evil, for we need them to show the crowd. We destory them, as evil, but we make them again, to throw a shroud.
This seemed to me to be a demonic voice. There was no pity, a bit of glee even, in the voice. I shuddered. There was a demon here, to make me afraid.
I must pray.
I am confused. I am thinking of the most noble book, the holy Quran, and I must review it, and, as I do, I see too much. The fire of mischief, this is what I have brought to the unwholesomeness, to the abomination to Allah. But use the fire...to light this darkness all around me...for is there not fire within these batteries?
Did I not make mischief end, but, now I live on, not in Heaven with Allah, but still on Earth, in this hell. I must prove myself again?
Allah has put difficulties before me. I must meet them with faith.
Here, this is the prayer that has set my mind aright, again:
"Our Lord! Condemn us not if we forget or fall into error; our Lord! Lay not on us a burden like that which thou didst lay on those before us; Our Lord! Lay not on us a burden greater than we have strength to bear. Blot out our sins, and grant us forgiveness. Have mercy on us. Thou art our Protector; Help us against those who stand against faith."
As I faced the holy mosque, and recited these words, as if they were not my own, the fear of the voice, it went away.
Upon this strength, by the power from beyond, I know that I must go out into this hell, and provide some assistance, medical assistance, to those who are screaming.
What I saw when I ventured forth from my apartment was...let me just relate it fresh as it is...I plucked up my courage and, despite a reservation, brought the laptop along, just in case if I needed a light for something.
With it closed...on sleep...the door latch released...and I went into the small hall where our doors interconnected, carrying the laptop under my arm.
I, began to concentrate very hard on visualizing again from memory, the corridors and openings. I did not close the door. But I stood there listening...the moan continued, louder now but devoid of the spirit of hope...lying to the self all along, to the end.
Why did they not talk to each other, was there just one. I decided to meet this moaner, to help them.
Allah had made me a sign, now I must be another sign, more humble, and help those who suffer.
{he is then contacted by the NSA from outside voice, in IM, exclusive.
To them I responded, I was just LARPing as if Crusader, but then opposite of the Crusader.
Actors trained mind trick.
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