Transforming Humanity
The Interstellar Haj

Mohammad Abu Hawash
Jordanian-Palestinian
Writing from Qatar
“What happens now?” asked Sumaya, as she stepped into the mind transfer portal.
“Your mind will be transferred to a silicon-based host,” answered Suleiman, the AI system operating the Ihram sector at Miqati Yalamlam. All territory lying within the Masjid Al-Haram has been declared ‘Carbon-free’ for Hujjaj (pilgrims, sing. Haaj/Hajja) in tiers B, C, D, and E by the Haj Management Committee (HMC). Only Hujjaj in tier A, who number no more than a few million, are allowed to cross the Miqat[1] zones in a carbon-based host.[2] The idea was first put forward by the HMC when it became too costly to provide food and water to the ever-increasing number of Hujjaj, but it was the sanitation problem that really motivated the switch. It became too difficult (or nearly impossible) to cater to more than ten million or so carbon hosts in Mecca, and at the time the number of Hujjaj had just crossed a hundred million. Logistically speaking, things got better with the introduction of the silicon Haj. Except for tier A, no one needed to eat or defecate, and since the silicon hosts here are genderless, this eradicated most physical harassment issues (except in tier A, of course).
Sumaya remembered reading about all this with her friends and family back on her home planet, Khuwailid. They were not at all excited about her choice to travel to Earth for Haj. Regardless, she is here now, on the outskirts of Mecca. It wasn’t a hard trip. She stopped at a number of planets on the way, where Hujjaj assemble before taking off together to the next gathering point. She started her journey with a small group from her home planet, but by the time they reached their third stop, there were already a hundred million of Hujjaj. They traveled together, chanting the Talbiya: labbayka Allahuma Labbayak… Labbayka la shareeka laka labbayk… Innal Hamda, wal Nimata… Laka Wal Mulk… Laa Shareeka Lak. Their collective voice shook the Haj ships. There was nothing like it in the whole galaxy.
Sumaya purchased the cheaper tier-C Haj experience. She couldn’t afford the premium services. Within her tier, she rarely saw people with body augmentations, a sign of true wealth in this time, and she met people who didn’t even pay for memory insurance before traveling, taking the risk of permanently losing their memory if they lost their carbon host.
Back home, no one could understand why she was taking the trip.
“Nobody does it now.”
“That’s still going on?”
“Wait. Are you serious? Are you actually going to Earth?”
She memorized her responses.
“Actually, 426 million people went during the last season.”
“Yes, of course it’s still going on. Every capable Muslim has to do it at least once in their life.”
“Yes, I’m dead serious.”
To everyone else’s credit, Muslims are approaching thirteen trillion in number now, so there are less people going these days in relative terms. But still, the Haj continues to be the largest congregation of humans in the Milky Way. Sumaya felt that surely meant something. Even if she doesn’t “find inner peace” or whatever, she would at least have witnessed that.
“So, is this trip just another one of your research projects?” asked Murad, Sumaya’s brother and closest friend. He was the only one in her family who did not respond negatively when she first brought up the idea to him.
“You could say that. I just don’t necessarily have a research question yet,” Sumaya answered. She was hoping that Murad would accompany her on the trip as the Mahram. As a tier-C Hajja, however, she did not need a Mahram, as she would be conducting her Haj in a silicon-based host, rendering her effectively “genderless.” This issue was the subject of great debate between Islamic scholars, who disagreed on whether silicon-based hosts can be considered male or female. The issue is still the subject of controversy today.
Although he wanted to join her, Murad could not afford the hefty travel costs. Sumaya instead chose to go with Sara, her friend who lives in a nearby solar system.
As the Haj ships neared Earth, Sumaya pledged to approach everything with an inquisitive mindset. She wanted to see what it’s like to be in a silicon-based host for an elongated period of time. She has only been in one for a few hours at most in the past, waiting on doctors to complete an operation on her carbon host. Silicon hosts have become the cheaper way to live. She remembered how strange it felt to not feel the body she controlled, and how sad she felt for those who sold their carbon hosts and lived permanently in silicon. No one did it out of their own volition. In fact, most of those who made the permanent switch from carbon to silicon were in too much debt and had no option but to sell their carbon hosts to avoid going to debt prison.
Regardless, Sumaya was interested in being in Mecca. At the academy back on her home planet, Khuwailid, she came across some fascinating books about the history of Earth and wanted to see the place for herself. Besides, very few people from her solar system had been to Haj in the past few centuries (owing to the long distance, she had to pass through a wormhole to cut the journey in half). When she returns, she would have a story to tell that would inspire others in her community to get out of that boring little corner of the Galactic Dar.
And boy did she have a story.
The first time Sumaya saw someone from the Hujjaj of tier A was at the landing dock in Aden. It was a couple, an old woman and a companion. They didn’t look any different from regular humans, and their carbon hosts seemed normal. “So much for an anti-climax,” thought Sumaya, but she changed her mind when she saw the tier-A tube train.
It had three floors, all rooms, no open standing spaces. And it went directly to the edge of the Miqat boundaries, meaning every person could do their Ightisal and wear their Ihram in their private quarters on the train itself.
And the other tiers? Well, they had to do their Ightisal in the old bathhouses, which aren’t at all like what Sumaya expected them to be. Her experience at the bathhouse in Miqati Yalamlam sent her mind into a whirlwind. The thought of being in an Earth bathhouse was appealing, but the actual thing was… strange.
Everything costs something, and she couldn’t help but feel that the Haj was not for someone like her… from a lower class and provincial. She was given 3 minutes to perform her Ightisal in a tiny metallic shower that could not be more than half a meter wide, so narrow that Sumaya had to enter it sideways. It was a claustrophobe’s nightmare.
She was sanctioned to use just two liters of water. The tier-C bathhouse was also overcrowded, smelly, and untended for. There were no pristine oases or water estuaries that she could bathe at. Miqati Yalamlam is located near Ash-Shafa, which was once a small village tens-of-thousands of years ago where Hujjaj from Yemen would stop before entering the boundaries of Masjid Al Haram. It has become a city of 20 million that lives off of the Hujjaj and their discretionary spending, as well as its renowned exports of fruits and flowers.
Sumaya felt very frustrated. There was no essential uniqueness to this place, and any possible catharsis she would have gotten out of the collective Haj experience was mired by how classist the whole thing seems to be. How did the HMC allow things to get to this point?
“Please stand by for cerebral transference,” said Suleiman, interrupting her trail of thought.
As Sumaya mentally and emotionally readied herself to transfer her consciousness into a silicon-based host, Suleiman began reciting the Quran. Sumaya leaned back, aligning the long, cold Cerebral Transference Rod – or CTR – to the cognitive access portal between her ears. She read about how this process takes place. The CTR gets access to her brainwaves through the occipital nerve. For tier C, the Haaj or Hajja gets to transfer their cognitive awareness and most of their memories into the host, allowing them to retain their personality and sense of self. For tiers D and E, the cheaper service meant they were allowed a meagre two terabytes of nonessential personal memory (NPM). That is not nearly enough, and going through with such a procedure comes with its own set of risks. When the HMC first introduced these two lower tiers, there was an uproar from the Organization for Islamic Cooperation (OIC). However, the decision was justified because it allowed the HMC to use older, silicon-based host models and hence enable more people to access and afford the Haj. Earlier that day, Sumaya overheard a family from tier E discuss the risks of partial cognitive transference.
“Well, if we took tier C, we wouldn’t have been able to afford memory insurance back home. I didn’t want to risk losing any of you to some accident,” said the person who Sumaya assumed was the father.
“Yes, you’re right. Besides, it’s just five Earth days. We can survive without our childhood memories,” added the mother with a nervous laugh.
They all nodded nervously. No one wanted to bring up the obvious; partial cognitive transference can cause what is known as “personality incongruence syndrome.” The condition is rare today since most solar systems don’t allow the procedure anymore. However, since the HMC received an exemption to continue conducting it, a few thousand Hujjaj end up suffering from personality incongruence after every Haj. Sumaya never saw someone with this syndrome before, but she heard that people who get it start to feel disconnected from their older memories. Over time, their personalities change completely, and they become unrecognizable to their friends and families. Half of all Hujjaj, the ones who are in tiers D and E, are playing a numbers game. Of the several hundred million of them, a handful will not return home as the same person that left.
“That’s just not right” Sumaya thought to herself as she awaited the start of the cerebral transference process. She wanted to take the time to speak with someone from the lower tiers later, in hopes of understanding how they could put their minds and bodies at such a risk.
Her thoughts were once again interrupted by Suleiman’s sudden announcement.
“Please return to your designated Miqat after the completion of the Manasiq to trade in the silicon for your original carbon host…. Activating CTR in 3…2…1…”
Sumaya felt a tingling sensation in the back of her neck, and slowly drifted off. When she woke up, she was in her silicon host. It felt like she was gone for hours, but the whole process took no more than a second.
She got up. Or she remembers thinking that, but she felt no sensation in her feet, or anywhere in her body. There was also something else she was missing.
“Al Salamu Alaikom!” Said Suleiman. “Welcome to your tier-C silicon host. You will be in it for the next five days, so get comfortable. Tier-C hosts are equipped with all-encompassing speaking, visual, and auditory features made to resemble the experience of being in a carbon host. The sense of touch and smell are available for tier-B only. Would you be interested in an upgrade?”
*Oh wait… that’s it. I can’t smell!*
“Sumaya, would you be interested in an upgrade?”
“Oh… No, I’m okay.”
“Alright. As you know, all silicon hosts within the Masjid Al Haram are designated gender-neutral. I am sure this is a lot to process, so take the day to familiarize yourself with the features of your host. You will need to recharge your host up to three times during your Haj, and I will be there to remind you! May you have a blessed Haj experience, with regards from the HMC.” And with that, Suleiman signed off.
“At least I have access to the central AI network in case I need help,” thought Sumaya. The lower tiers mostly fend for themselves.
As she walked, or ordered her silicon host to walk, Sumaya felt like she was in a virtual reality simulation. She felt self-aware, but at the same time she wasn’t herself. It was as if the eye of her mind was removed from her physical body and inserted into another operating system. But there was no “eye of the mind” or “soul” here. For all intents and purposes, she was a computer for the next five days.
Much of the Miqat’s services catered to tier A, but all the tiers mingled in the central district. It didn’t feel harmonious at all. You could easily tell in which tier someone was, judging by how smooth their host moved around. This was already too much, and Sumaya wanted to unload her thoughts onto someone else. As her accompanying friend Sara was still charging her host, she decided to contact Murad to update him on everything.
“So, what’s your host like? What did the HMC give you?” Murad asked inquisitively, but with a slight sarcasm in his tone.
“It’s fine, I won’t be able to feel or smell anything for the next five days, though. Someone spilled a drink on me earlier in the city, and my host started making a beeping noise. If it wasn’t for that, I wouldn’t have even noticed.”
“So, what senses do you have?”
“Well, I can see and hear, but even that’s not the same. I feel like I’m inside a game, you know?”
“Some spiritual experience this is,” responded Murad cynically.
“You know what is also strange? When I was in the city, it felt like there were more tier As and Bs than anyone else. Everything is made for them. I felt like the odd one out, even though they are the exception to the rule.”
“Well, I imagine that most of the silicon hosts are in their resting pods, which is why you aren’t seeing as many of them. Why would they explore a city on Earth when they could hook their motherboard to the entertainment system in their pods? As you have seen, for silicon bodies, there isn’t much difference between the real and virtual spheres.” Murad responded.
“Why do they get to live in the real world while the rest of us are confined to virtual reality? It’s not right.”
“I guess living in the real is a luxury now.”
The two of them were silent for a moment, contemplating that statement. Then Murad changed the topic.
“Anyway, enough of that. Let me tell you what happened with Mama and Baba the other day…”
After their phone call, Sumaya returned to the tier-C residence area. She found her resting pod and lay in it for a while. Tomorrow, her Haj starts. So far, this trip has not been what she hoped it would be. The spirituality of the Haj experience still eluded her.
As she lay in her resting pod, she recalled a hadith by the prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, who said that a person “returns from Haj as pure and free from sins as on the day on which their mother birthed them.” Sumaya hoped to be able to feel something from this experience. Despite her exterior façade of cynicism and doubt, she was hoping the Haj would be liberating. But so far, it looks like it is just something people do. Then they leave.
The End.
[1] Miqat (also written as Miqatu/Miqati depending on context; pl. Mawakit) is a zone on the boundaries of the holy city of Mecca where pilgrims performing Haj or Umrah must conduct ritual acts of cleansing and enter the state of Ihram (a sacred state that entails several restrictions, which pilgrims must adhere to until they complete their pilgrimage). There are five Miqat zones. Sumaya was assigned to Miqati Yalamlam.
[2] The human body consists of 24% oxygen, 12% carbon, 62% hydrogen, and an assortment of other elements in smaller proportions. The term ‘carbon-host’ was used by the HMC to refer to human bodies because of the essential role of carbon in the composition of all earthly life forms. In fact, the term “organic chemistry” refers to the study of matter that contains carbon atoms. Carbon’s ability to form stable bonds with other elements, enabling the creation of complex molecules like Deoxyribonucleic acid (DNA).