Emir filled out the form with his usual pen.
He wrote slowly.Deliberately.
He even used capital letters where they asked—which, frankly, he considered an act of diplomacy.
It was a registration request for a Neutral Civic Dialogue Zone:a place where no one would be taught,no one would be recruited,and no one would clap.
A place to simply... remember, speak, and listen.
He attached every required document.Proof of address.Identity confirmation.Founding statement.His blood type, zodiac sign, and one blurry photocopy of a childhood drawing—because the form had a section titled "Cultural Intent."
It was absurd.It was correct.It was mailed.
—
Three weeks passed.
Nothing.
Then, one morning, he received a letter.
No return address.No signature.Just a single page, typed in Courier font:
"Dear Applicant,We have reviewed your form for the registration of a Civic Dialogue Zone.Unfortunately, no such request exists in our system.Please refrain from sending non-existent documents in the future.Warm regards."
He read it twice.
Then held it up to the light.
Then laughed.A real one.
A small, tired, soul-sore laugh.
"Ah," he muttered."So now even the idea of me is too risky to acknowledge."
"We're in advanced denial territory."
—
"They've entered stage five," Atatürk chimed in."Bureaucratic gaslighting.Next, they'll send you a medal for your 'nonexistent courage.'"
—
Later that day, Emir walked to the ministry office in person.
He handed the clerk his copy of the application.
The clerk blinked at it.Then tapped at his keyboard like it owed him money.
— "I'm sorry, sir.There's no record of this number in the system."
— "So should I fill out a new form?"
— "Unfortunately, no.If it's not there, it was never submitted."
— "But I have it in my hand."
— "Which means it… was almost submitted."
— "Is that… a legal status?"
— "It is now."
—
He went home.
Made tea.
Opened his notebook.
And wrote:
"They didn't reject the form.They rejected the concept of me filing one."
"Apparently, I can only exist in memory or mystery.But not in ink and approval stamps."
He paused.Added one more line.
"Good.Let them try to archive a ghost with a pen."