RETURN OF THE SMOKELINGS
A short story by Nesrin Shaheen
DAMASCUS, 18 July 1998
 t had got to the point were you were no longer sure who your
friends were. Neighbours were especially feared. Like news, smoke
travels quickly, and if they but detected a whiff of the detested
weed coming through their vents, you could be sure of a quick
denunciation: the dreaded knock on the door in the middle of the
night. The anti-smokeling squad, or ASS as they were known, tried
to be civil about it, giving you time to pack the essentials for
the permanent trip down to the netherworld. In general, members of
ASS were recruited from the ranks of former smokers. They were, I
hate to say it, the most virulent zealots you could imagine.
I knew that the time would come soon enough, when I would
cease being an earthling, to become one of the smokelings.
It was during the night; the neighbours must have smelled
something. I had a particularly bad day at work and was looking
forward to indulging a bit that evening; as it turned out I spent
an anxiety-ridden night trying to fall asleep, almost waiting for
the knock. Next morning as I stepped out into the brisk clean air,
there they were. I was immediately apprehended, handcuffed,
searched, and charged with a criminal offence, namely possession
and consumption of a prohibited substance: cigarettes! The
sentence was life in exile. From that moment on I became a
smokeling. I was blindfolded, loaded onto a truck and driven for
what seemed like hours. When I was finally released, I found
myself alone, in a dark, smoky passageway. A friendly voice from
the mist echoed, "Welcome smokeling, I'll show you around".
I quickly adjusted to life in the colony, and it was really a
relief when I no longer had to live a double life in constant fear
of the ASS.
The Smokeling Colony had been in existence for almost a
century before I was sent down there. It must have been very
difficult for the so-called pioneers of the colony. Over the
years they had been systematically, and literally, driven
underground and ostracized by mainstream society, to the point
where they developed their own clubs and cliques. These were
underground dens, where they were able to meet and socialize, and
of course smoke. It was through these venues that the smokelings
began to band together to hold consciousness-raising activities and
to organize themselves against the growing hostility around them.
It had all begun with the banning of smoking in public places, and
ultimately led to a ban of smoking on your own home. Friends and
colleagues would tease us; innocuous remarks, turned into ugly
taunts; the government provided incentives to non-smokers to
alienate the smokers, and to deliberately shun them.
Children suffered the most. Kids of smokers were denied an
education, and eventually children were even encouraged to denounce
their parents to the ASS.
Society was finally purged of the scourge of smoking but
smokers continued to thrive in the netherworld. Agriculture to
sustain the growing population, and to grow tobacco, was followed
by industrial production of cigarettes, the mining of various
minerals and precious metals, and the related secondary industries.
The arts flourished as never before: painters, musicians, and
writers all contributed to a lively cultural life. Smokelings who
came from all walks of life, included many talented professionals,
who thrived in their new world.
After some time relations had been all but severed with the
Earthlings until a Smokeling discovered the cure for cancer. News
quickly reached the surface, via smoke signals no less.
Smokelings, had, of course, by this time, no need of the
earthlings, and were fully self-sufficient, and were thus able to
set their own negotiating terms with the Earthlings. They had a
total monopoly over the only source of the anti-cancer drug, and
the secret technology of how to extract it. Needless to say,
diplomatic relations were quickly established, between Earth
and Nova Subterranean, as the Smokeling's new world became known.
An earth-envoy was sent down for the signing of the treaty and to
take part in the symbolic peace smoke. The Smokelings established
their first mission, and normal diplomatic ties were established.
Since becoming a smokeling, I have married. My husband
however does not smoke anymore, and our little daughter, well, she
will have to make her choices, in an imperfect world, but one at
least that tolerates differences.
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