conversation.
‘Nothing, apart from the earlier accident which closed the
Unkapani Bridge, but that seems to have re-opened now and the traffic’s moving
freely. Just in time for the morning rush. Over,’ Dawn replied.
‘Okay, just tell the nice listeners that and then hand back
over to the studio. Fifteen seconds, we’ll run the jingle and then you’re on.
Over.’
She could hear the radio station as it was being broadcast
through her headset. ‘That was Survivor with Eye of the Tiger. Talking of
which, let’s go to our eye in the sky, Traffic Dawn, with the latest update on
the roads. Traffic Dawn, your eye in the sky. Hi Dawn, how are the roads
looking this morning?’
***
Hamil was just covering the mosaics with dust sheets ready
for the grand unveiling, a piece of theatre that always seemed to please the TV
cameras, when he heard a low rumble. His first thought was that they must have
diverted the traffic down the normally quiet side streets because of the
earlier accident; but, as the noise intensified, his second guess was that it
was a helicopter. He was right. He could distinctly pick out the rhythmic beat
of the blades as it passed overhead.
He was standing on a platform of wooden planks, forty feet
in the air, supported at either end by scaffolding, which his protégés, all
final year Archaeology students from the nearby Koç University, had used to
painstakingly remove the metal masks and white plaster from the intricate glass
and gilt mosaics. If the Ottoman Turks had been able to see how masterfully the
mosaics had been restored they would have realised, to their chagrin, far from
destroying these works of art, as they had intended, they had actually helped
preserve them for future generations.
The sound of the helicopter returned, only this time it was
much louder. It made the perch he was standing on shake and the ladder, which
was propped against the scaffolding, clatter to the ground. He was annoyed with
himself because he had told his students, on numerous occasions, that they
should always ensure it was fixed securely with ties before climbing up. He
would have to wait for his cleaners to arrive in half an hour before he could
get down, which was fine because he still hadn’t finished his preparations.
He couldn’t imagine the size of the helicopter that was
capable of causing such vibrations, and then suddenly a distant memory came
flooding back to him, which made his heart beat faster and his mouth become
instantly dry. He had only ever experienced this sensation once before in his
life, when he was a young boy on holiday in Fethiye with his parents, but that
was enough to leave an indelible impression on his mind.
They had been staying at his great aunt’s house by the
coast, when she burst into his room in the middle of the night, shouting for
him and his sisters to get outside and stand away from any buildings. He must
have slept through the initial tremors but, by the time he’d reached the top of
the stairs, the whole house was shaking. He froze, not knowing what was going
on, but his mother appeared behind him, picked him up and carried him outside
to join the rest of the family on the beach. Several other households had
already congregated on the sands and were being joined by people running from
every direction, some crying, some screaming; but the majority just huddled in
groups, staring silently in the moonlight, as they watched the houses in front
of them crumble to a pile of rubble.
***
‘What’s that over there?’ Dawn was pointing to what looked
like a plume of smoke rising from a street just in front of them.
Devrim pushed the joystick forward and the helicopter
descended to get a better view.
‘It looks like a house has collapsed onto those cars,’ she
said, as the downdraft from the helicopter swirled the cloud around them. She
could see the half-demolished building, in the middle of a row of houses, and
just make out figures running into
‘Nothing, apart from the earlier accident which closed the
Unkapani Bridge, but that seems to have re-opened now and the traffic’s moving
freely. Just in time for the morning rush. Over,’ Dawn replied.
‘Okay, just tell the nice listeners that and then hand back
over to the studio. Fifteen seconds, we’ll run the jingle and then you’re on.
Over.’
She could hear the radio station as it was being broadcast
through her headset. ‘That was Survivor with Eye of the Tiger. Talking of
which, let’s go to our eye in the sky, Traffic Dawn, with the latest update on
the roads. Traffic Dawn, your eye in the sky. Hi Dawn, how are the roads
looking this morning?’
***
Hamil was just covering the mosaics with dust sheets ready
for the grand unveiling, a piece of theatre that always seemed to please the TV
cameras, when he heard a low rumble. His first thought was that they must have
diverted the traffic down the normally quiet side streets because of the
earlier accident; but, as the noise intensified, his second guess was that it
was a helicopter. He was right. He could distinctly pick out the rhythmic beat
of the blades as it passed overhead.
He was standing on a platform of wooden planks, forty feet
in the air, supported at either end by scaffolding, which his protégés, all
final year Archaeology students from the nearby Koç University, had used to
painstakingly remove the metal masks and white plaster from the intricate glass
and gilt mosaics. If the Ottoman Turks had been able to see how masterfully the
mosaics had been restored they would have realised, to their chagrin, far from
destroying these works of art, as they had intended, they had actually helped
preserve them for future generations.
The sound of the helicopter returned, only this time it was
much louder. It made the perch he was standing on shake and the ladder, which
was propped against the scaffolding, clatter to the ground. He was annoyed with
himself because he had told his students, on numerous occasions, that they
should always ensure it was fixed securely with ties before climbing up. He
would have to wait for his cleaners to arrive in half an hour before he could
get down, which was fine because he still hadn’t finished his preparations.
He couldn’t imagine the size of the helicopter that was
capable of causing such vibrations, and then suddenly a distant memory came
flooding back to him, which made his heart beat faster and his mouth become
instantly dry. He had only ever experienced this sensation once before in his
life, when he was a young boy on holiday in Fethiye with his parents, but that
was enough to leave an indelible impression on his mind.
They had been staying at his great aunt’s house by the
coast, when she burst into his room in the middle of the night, shouting for
him and his sisters to get outside and stand away from any buildings. He must
have slept through the initial tremors but, by the time he’d reached the top of
the stairs, the whole house was shaking. He froze, not knowing what was going
on, but his mother appeared behind him, picked him up and carried him outside
to join the rest of the family on the beach. Several other households had
already congregated on the sands and were being joined by people running from
every direction, some crying, some screaming; but the majority just huddled in
groups, staring silently in the moonlight, as they watched the houses in front
of them crumble to a pile of rubble.
***
‘What’s that over there?’ Dawn was pointing to what looked
like a plume of smoke rising from a street just in front of them.
Devrim pushed the joystick forward and the helicopter
descended to get a better view.
‘It looks like a house has collapsed onto those cars,’ she
said, as the downdraft from the helicopter swirled the cloud around them. She
could see the half-demolished building, in the middle of a row of houses, and
just make out figures running into
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