Muslim Science Fiction Saga

Ibrahim was either telling the truth or he believed what he was saying. I listened to this strange, handsome young man with rapt attention. "You're unlike the other humans I've met," I said, smiling faintly.

Ibrahim shook his head. " Amaya, you're a human being, even if your DNA is a little bit different." He pressed his big hand against his massive chest. "You've got a soul, just like I do, a spark of the divine Allah, like what He breathed into Adam and Eve, the first people," he said confidently.

The more Ibrahim and I spoke, the more comfortable I got. "I'm glad we met sister Amaya," he said, and after we finished our meal, Ibrahim and I went for a walk around campus. I told him about my daring escape from the Gen-Tech Lab in Japan, and Ibrahim nodded sympathetically.

"Long walk to freedom," Ibrahim said, and I smiled. For I had seen the movie of the same name about South African President and human rights icon Nelson Mandela's life. Of all the historical figures of human history, he's the one I like the most. I confessed as much to Ibrahim, who smiled appreciatively.

"We humans are wretched things and treat each other like crap over questions of race, religion and national origin and now, genetic profiling is the issue of the day," Ibrahim said, shaking his head. We were in the Quad now, heading back to the campus library.

We walked past a blonde-haired white female student holding a sign saying "No Freaks in Canada". I looked at the gal, and had to restrain myself from kicking her narrow butt. Ibrahim laid a restraining hand on me. "This bigoted bitch isn't worth it," he said, anger in his voice.

This was the first time I'd heard Ibrahim curse, even though I hadn't known him that long I got the impression that this isn't something he normally does. "Sorry for the profanity but bigoted people like her irk me," he said, and I smiled. Looking me up and down, Ibrahim asked me what I was smiling about.

"You're totally my hero," I said, and then I did something which surprised the hell out of both of us. I stood on my tippy toes, and kissed Ibrahim on the cheek. The young Somali scholar looked at me, a look of profound surprise on his dark, handsome face.

"Why is that?" Ibrahim asked, apparently puzzled by what I'd done. I seem to have that effect on humans, and the one I was destined to fall in love with was definitely no exception. I'm unique and quirky, what can I say?

I looked at Ibrahim, smiled and shrugged. "Your humanity must be rubbing off on me," I said, and then gently tapped Ibrahim's shoulder, thinking I'd das for my next class, which was at the Minto Center on the other side of campus. Ibrahim laid his hand firmly on my arm.

"At least take a brother's card before taking off," Ibrahim said, grinning. I nodded, and pocketed his card, after briefly glancing at it. On the card was the logo "Muslim Scholars For Human Rights", one of the busiest and largest student groups on the Carleton University campus, apparently.

"Thank you," I said, and gave Ibrahim a heartfelt but awkward hug. Then I took off, at speed that an Olympic sprinter would envy. I could feel Ibrahim's eyes on me, and I liked it. I didn't know it at the time, but exciting times were upon me.

Later, as I sat in my Intro to Civil Engineering Class, I stared dreamily at the card. Impulsively I took out my phone and dialed Ibrahim's number. "Good to run into you again, Brother Ibrahim, let's chill sometime. Amaya." I looked at my text message, then sent it.

Moments later, I got a reply from Ibrahim. That was quick, I thought, and smiled. In his rather lengthy message, Ibrahim went on and on about how our subsequent encounters were the will of a higher power. I rolled my eyes but kept reading. The brother had the hots for me and I knew it. I might have been born yesterday but certain things a woman just knows. At the end of the message, Ibrahim asked me to go see a movie with him this coming Tuesday.

"Sounds good to me," I said, and happily texted back AFFIRMATIVE, and kissed my phone before returning my attention to what Professor Elias Abdullah was saying about civil engineering. I didn't really listen. I was dreaming of a certain tall, dark and handsome politically conscious and deeply religious chocolate stud muffin. Looking forward to Tuesday, I thought, and smiled.