The Blasphemer: A Novel (30 page)

‘Sorry about that. I would probably have pretended not to notice you if I had. Would have ruined my pay-off. Anyway, my certainty is different to your certainty, if you will forgive the presumption. Mine is based on science and knowledge and empirical evidence. What is religious certainty based on?’

‘Belief.’

‘But not proof.’

‘Can you prove to me that there is no God, professor?’

‘I could prove there is no need for a god, which is the next best thing.’

Hamdi raised his eyebrows. ‘You can?’

‘The Big Bang is the explanation. The Big Bang followed by billions of years of evolution by natural selection.’

‘But what was there before the Big Bang?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Surely that is based on belief, too. You believe there was nothing. You cannot prove it.’

Daniel gave a soft laugh, which he intended to sound indulgent but not too patronizing. He liked Hamdi. He had a friendly face. He found his presence comforting. ‘Just as there are laws of physics, so there are laws of biology and the main one, the one which explains every living thing on the planet – and every planet in the universe, for that matter – is that all things must start simply and become complex. The complex dolphin began its evolutionary journey hundreds of millions of years ago as a simple, single-celled prokaryote. For a god to create the universe he would have to be hyper-intelligent. But intelligence only evolves over time. The argument for a god starts by assuming what it is attempting to explain – intelligence, complexity, it amounts to the same thing – and so it explains nothing. God is a non-explanation. The Big Bang followed by billions of years of evolution
is
an explanation.’

‘You have told me how, professor, you have not told me why.’ There was laughter below Hamdi’s surface, which was something else Daniel hadn’t noticed before. When the young man said something that amused him, he punctuated his sentence with an almost inaudible snuffle – mm – the suppression of a laugh, a hint of satisfaction at what he was saying.

Daniel exhaled slowly. ‘Everyone throws that one at me … I know
why
people want to believe in God. Because they are in denial. Because with God comes the comforting fantasy of life after death. Because people cannot face the fact that every living thing must die. Yet it’s natural, it’s what we are born to do. Death is part of life. It is programmed into our DNA. I can even tell you, more or less, how long you will live, barring accidents. Here—’ Daniel reached for a tub of cotton buds that he kept in his shoulder bag. ‘Dab this on your gums.’

‘Why?’ Hamdi asked, taking a cotton bud.

‘Trust me.’

Hamdi ran it around his mouth and dropped it in the plastic specimen pouch Daniel was holding open.

‘The entire genetic history of your family is in this pouch,’ Daniel said. ‘From this we can calculate your chances of contracting
Alzheimer’s, heart disease, cancer, everything. Would you like us to find out for you?’

Hamdi shook his head. ‘No, not really.’

Daniel looked disappointed. ‘Well. If you change your mind … Hello?’ The female student with the studs and the camera was standing in front of them. ‘Sorry, I got distracted. Do you want to take it here?’

‘Here’s fine,’ the young woman said. When her camera flashed, students at nearby tables turned round. ‘Can I have one of you two together?’

Daniel shrugged and edged his chair closer to Hamdi’s.

‘And can I have some of whatever it was you were smoking in there.’

Daniel grinned and shook his head. ‘Sorry about that. Haven’t had the giggles like that in ages. Don’t know what got into me.’

The photograph taken, Hamdi stared at the specimen pouch in Daniel’s hand. ‘If evolution is the explanation,’ he said, ‘I mean, supposing it is, why is a belief in God hardwired into our brains? Every culture has a variation on the same belief, so what evolutionary purpose can that serve?’

‘I suppose it keeps us sane. Stops us thinking and questioning. Stops us going mad contemplating the vastness and complexity of the universe. The nothingness. Mental health is an important part of the survival of the species … That’s why the Marxists called religion the opiate of the masses.’ Daniel put the specimen pouch in his shoulder bag, picked up the bagel and began jabbing with it. ‘Personally, I think it’s more a poison than an opiate. Poisons everything it touches. Fills hearts with hatred and prejudice. Causes wars. Divides families. Look at honour killings. A father would rather murder his own daughter than allow her to have sex with a man he thinks his god might disapprove of. That’s insane.’ He took a bite. ‘Sorry. Don’t mean to offend you or your religion.’

‘I am not offended …You keep looking at me. It is my beard, I think.’

‘Suits you.’

‘I figured if they are going to treat all Muslims as terrorists, I
might as well start looking like one.’ He tugged at his clothes. ‘And dressing like one.’

‘Have they approached you?’

‘The terrorists or the counter-terrorists?’

Daniel took a sip of coffee. ‘It’s not only Muslims who are intolerant, of course,’ he said. ‘Catholics are as bad. And born-again Christians. And Mormons. Complete intolerance. And for what? For a random flight of fancy. I reckon adults want to believe in God in the same way that children want to believe in Father Christmas. They cling to it, even after they suspect it cannot be true, because it makes them happy. They are capable of believing and not believing at the same time.’

‘Does Martha believe in Father Christmas?’

Daniel shook his head emphatically and took another bite from his bagel. Its dense, doughy interior prevented him from answering for a moment. ‘No.’ He swallowed. ‘Though she did briefly, before we talked about it. I asked her how probable it was that one man could get around the world in one night and visit all the world’s children. We worked out that he would have to be travelling at the speed of light.’

‘How old was she?’

‘Five or six.’

‘And in that brief time she believed in Father Christmas, did it make her happy?’

‘Possibly, but that’s not the point.’

‘And did her belief in him make him true, in her mind at least? He existed in her mind for a while, didn’t he? He was real to her?’

‘Yes, but that is mere subjective truth. The only useful and relevant truth is objective.’

Hamdi thought about this for a moment, folding his hands neatly in his lap. ‘Have you ever been to Greenland?’

Daniel shook his head again.

‘But you believe it is there?’

‘Won’t be for much longer, not covered in ice and snow … but yes.’

‘Why do you believe it is there?’

‘I know people who’ve been there.’

‘So you take it on trust.’

‘And I’ve flown over it dozens of times on my way to America.’

A line wrinkled the skin of Hamdi’s brow. ‘Perhaps Greenland wasn’t a good example. The point is, just because a truth happens to be subjective, it doesn’t mean that it isn’t objective also.’

Daniel checked his watch again and dabbed with a licked fingertip at the sesame seeds that had fallen from his bagel. ‘There is no god. There’s nothing subjective about it.’

‘That is blasphemy, professor! You will have to be punished!’ Hamdi grinned to show he was joking and added unnecessarily, ‘I am joking, mm.’

Daniel smiled. ‘Didn’t know you were allowed to joke about such things.’

‘
Allahu akbar!
’ Hamdi said, raising his arms in the air and waving his hands. Two hair-chewing female students at the next table stared at them.

Daniel tapped his watch again. ‘I have to go.’

‘You have a stressful job, I think.’

‘There’s a lot more red tape these days.’

‘You should convert to Islam. We have no red tape.’

‘Maybe I should. “There is no God but Allah.” If I say that twice in the presence of two witnesses I’m a Muslim, that right?’

‘Depending on the state of your heart.’

‘Then you have to surrender your life to Islam? And it governs everything from dress to forms of greeting and even the way in which a glass of water is to be drunk?’

Somewhere in the refectory a pile of plates was dropped and this was met with an ironic cheer. Hamdi looked across in the direction of the noise before directing his dark, bulging eyes at Daniel. ‘Yes, my life belongs to Islam, to Muhammad, to Allah … but it is not blind submission. We pray and fast to show that we are with Him in our daily life. When you drink you take it with your right hand to remember Him. It’s a question of remembrance.’

Daniel noticed Hamdi hadn’t touched his bagel, nor was he drinking his coffee, with either hand. ‘That OK? Did you want it
black?’ He pushed the plate with the uneaten bagel towards him. ‘Try it.’

Hamdi placed his hand on top of Daniel’s. It was cold. ‘No.’

‘You’re fasting?’

Hamdi smiled ambiguously. ‘You know, a lot of Westerners think they understand Islam but … Did you know that death by stoning is not mentioned anywhere in the Koran?’

‘Can’t say I did.’

‘Its scriptural sanction comes from the Old Testament, from your tradition, mm.’

‘Not mine, I’m afraid. My only testament is
On the Origin of Species
.’ Daniel held up his hands and, at that moment, saw Wetherby gliding towards him, staying, as always, one pace ahead of a coarse, uncaring world.

‘Wetherby,’ Daniel called out. ‘Meet my friend …’ He blinked.

‘I’m sorry, my mind has …’

‘Hamdi.’ The young Muslim stood up and held out his hand.

‘I am the head of music here,’ Wetherby said. ‘Are you an undergraduate?’

Daniel rubbed the back of his neck. The name had gone again, as if it were written in water. ‘My friend has a doctorate in music.’

Wetherby raised a laconic eyebrow. ‘From?’

‘Birmingham.’

‘They have a good department there.’

‘He’s a teacher at Martha’s school, but I think he’s looking for a university post. That right?’

Hamdi looked embarrassed.

‘Do come and see me,’ Wetherby said. ‘Arrange a time with my secretary.’

‘He seemed nice,’ Hamdi said as he watched Wetherby glide away.

‘He is nice.’ Daniel took a sip of coffee and checked his watch again. ‘Once you tune in to his sense of humour. He’s deeply religious, you know. He was telling me the other day that the three Abrahamic religions believe in the same angels.’

‘The belief in angels is central to Islam. The Koran was dictated to Muhammad by the chief of all angels, Gabriel.’

‘And you, I mean Muslims, believe they take human form?’

‘Angels are created out of light. They can assume human form, but only in appearance. Angels do not eat, procreate or commit sin as humans do.’

‘And what do they do, these angels? What are they for?’

Hamdi knitted his fingers together. ‘They are the agents of revelation. According to the Koran, they do not possess free will. They record every human being’s actions. They place a soul in a newborn child. They maintain the climate, nurturing vegetation and distributing the rain. They take the soul at the time of death.’

‘You believe they watch over us … protect us, I mean?’

‘Oh yes. Protection is what they do best.’

‘But if they are out there protecting everyone, why is there so much suffering in the world? Is that Allah’s will? I don’t want to sound facetious, but does he sometimes call off his angels, when he thinks people deserve to suffer?’

‘Allah is all-merciful, professor.’

‘Please, call me Daniel. And strictly speaking, I’m not a professor yet.’

‘The attitude to suffering is, I think, the main difference between the Jewish, the Christian and the Muslim traditions. We are all born innocent but we lose our innocence when we become adults. That is when we have to take responsibility for our own lives.’

‘So it’s OK by Allah if a child suffers … If Martha were to suffer, say.’

‘You know, all the kids, all the children in the world, they are going to paradise, according to the Islamic tradition, because they are innocent.’

‘So it’s all right if they suffer on earth because afterwards they will go to paradise?’

‘This is life. To live is to suffer. Life is suffering. Even Martha must suffer one day, but you can take comfort in the thought that she will be in paradise. If she dies in childhood, I mean.’

The conversation was making Daniel feel uncomfortable, for all
its being hypothetical. He became aware of the two hair-chewing students at the nearby table nudging each other. They were talking about him, he could sense it. In recent days he had sensed other students talking about him, too, making jokes about the way he went around smiling all the time. ‘I’m afraid that’s not much of a comfort for me. I don’t believe in paradise.’

‘Does Martha?’

‘Well, I guess it doesn’t matter whether she believes it or not because, as a child, she’s got a guaranteed, gold-embossed, one-way ticket there? Right?’

‘Right.’

‘And what about me? Can I as an adult non-believer go to your paradise?’

‘Allah knows best. I don’t know.’

‘And what about suicide bombers and Muslims who fly planes into buildings, will they go to paradise?’

‘Allah knows best. I don’t know.’

Daniel set down his half-eaten bagel.

Hamdi still had not touched his. He looked at Daniel with concern in his glaucous, bulging eyes and asked, ‘You OK?’

Daniel was staring at Hamdi with what looked like an expression of puzzlement. He gave a weak cough and, after a laboured breath, emitted a high-pitched noise. His face was turning blue and both his hands had risen up to his throat.

WHEN NANCY HAD SUGGESTED TO TOM THAT SHE SHOULD START
having sessions with him more than once a week, she had the strange feeling that he had steered her into making the suggestion. She did not mind, if that was the case. She appreciated the chance to think out loud about Daniel, about how her peace overtures to him always ended in an argument. Tom was an attentive listener, a natural empath. When she told him how her relationship was struggling, he nodded sympathetically. Their meetings always ran over the allotted time and, one evening, at the end of a long session, he asked almost as an aside: ‘When was the last time you and Daniel laughed together?’