Secularization, Part 2

This is the second part in a short story about secularization. You can read Part 1 of “Secularization” here. 

“Here is your room, Mr. Samawal.”

Yunus stepped past the Guardian, a young woman in her early twenties. She could have been one of his current or former students, had he still been teaching. As he measured  the dimensions of his new home, he wondered how his fate led him here. He knew that while his stay here would be temporary, he feared that the fierce independence of his intellect would remain on Apostle’s Island forever. To his mind, this was a life sentence.

“It’s a little small, isn’t it?” He walked towards the window and pulled back the curtains. The view was not an unpleasant one. He gazed out the window and beheld a courtyard of lyrical beauty and elegant symmetry that could inspire awe in a poet and the measured appreciation of a rational philosopher. Yunus followed the walking path with his eyes. The path spiraled among sculptures and flower beds that seemed in a fixed orbit around a small grove of trees. The artificial beauty of humanity’s creative genius lived in harmony with the garden’s natural splendor. The garden blended nature and humanity in all its glory. If Faith and Reason ever had a wedding, Yunus thought this would be the place to have the ceremony.

The Guardian chuckled at a pitch that sounded like an innocent giggle to Yunus’ ears. “You’ll find that it will be more than adequate. Most of our guests spend very little time in their rooms. The Garden and common areas allow for a remarkable amount of privacy. We recognize that our Guests want their privacy. You won’t need your room for that.”

Garden–that was the word that escaped  Yunus. His eyes traced the curve formed by the walking path, and noticed that is formed a roulette, with the grove of trees as the pole. The orderly nature of the Garden amazed him, as if it reflected God’s vision  of Eden from an earlier epoch from humanity’s mythological past.

Yunus returned his mind to the path, recognizing it as an epicycloid. Equations flashed through his mind as he counted the number of cusps in the curve. The idea of modeling the path with a parametric equation gave Yunus hope that his sentence at Apostle’s Island would not be completely unproductive.

“Mr. Samawal? Mr. Samawal? I asked if you had any questions.”

Yunus’ mind snapped him from the elegant universe of equations and theorems and back into the mundane world of words. He shook his head.

“Well, OK then. A Steward will stop by shortly with your belongings and then take you to breakfast. Afterwards, you’ll meet with your Advocate.”

Yunus retreated back to the window, contemplating the equations that drifted through his mind.

The Guardian put her small, porcelain hand on his shoulder. “It will be OK, Mr. Samawal. As your Guardian, it is my goal to make sure that your stay with us as comfortable as possible. After all, you are our guest.”

He looked at her and smiled. She made it sound like he was staying at a resort. But he knew she was lying. Despite her kindness and concern, despite the beauty of the garden that ensnared him, he knew where he was.

He was in prison.