At night Karzai dreams of vast seas of oil, seas that go on forever - to the core of the world and beyond. He watches as the boy of his dreams beckons, pulling him in. The oil covers his limbs and he can't escape. He is drowing. He screams out but no one is there. It is just him and the oil - the darkness that goes on forever, that pulls him down, covering him, drowing him. The darkness calls out: Mr President, Mr President! It taunts him, shrieking, Master! Boss! President of Afghanistan! He is shaking, shaking all over, drowning...

Karzai's servant is tugging on his leg. "Master! The general is here!"

Karzai rouses, his face creased and grey like the detrius that blows in the Karbul streets. "Boy, my pipe..."

"But, Master, I have hidden the pipe. It was your demand."

"I want it now."

"But, Master, you ordered me to refuse it to you."

"I take back the order. Come on."

"Of course, Master, but you ordered me to refuse if you took back the order. I cannot change the order."

"I change the order - get me my pipe."

Karzai's servant does not have the pipe, but he's used to this. Karzai changes his will like the wind.

"I can get the doktor, boss, but the pipe is hidden."

"What? The doktor? Are you out of your mind? Kabesh!"

He pauses.

"Is the general here?"

"Yes, boss. He waits downstairs."

"Bring me my robe and hat. It will be informal meeting. We will have tea."

"Of course, Master."

Karzai knows the next question is dangerous, but he asks it anyway. "Is there anything I need to know?"

"There is a man with him."

"Who?"

"He is business man. He said he is from Haliburton."

"What? Doesn't he know this is Afghanistan, not Iraq?"

"I do not know, boss."

"He's here for what's under the ground. Every man wants what is underneath."

"The newspapers say there is oil underneath, Master."

"I can't stand it. Why did God not give us milk? Or cotton? Why oil?"

"Perhaps he want us to be rich."

"Rich? We don't get rich. THEY get rich. All we get is the Americans and Haliburton."

Karzai's servant tries to lighten his master's mood. "Afghanistan is number one exporter of opium, Master. Number one!"

"Yes..."

Karzai's vow comes back to him - no more opium. For now. For now all he knows is the darkness pulling him underneath. Not milk or cotton; oil, and all it brings with it. Oil spells doom for Karzai. He is not an oil shiek or Mr Ten Percent. Karzai is the President.

Karzai is dispensible.

He also knows how to get his next fix. "What time are the Taliban coming over?"

"Ten o'clock, Master."

"Good. Give me my hat. Let's make this meeting quick."

"There is much oil, master."

Karzai knows. He has seen it in his dreams. "Give me my hat and get out. Yallah! You're useless! You're a waste of space!"

Karzai's servant leaves, but he is not sad. Today he may be Karzai's servant, but tomorrow he may be Mr Ten Percent. Anything could be possible in the new Afghanistan.

Just for a moment, Karzai feels the darkness pulling him down. Abesh! No time for dreams. Today he must meet with the general and Haliburton.

Tomorrow, the future would take care of itself.