In the middle of California’s Mojave desert, down a long, bumpy track that winds past barren hills and arid ravines, there is a town like no other. The first unusual sight is a golden onion dome poking up on the horizon, crowning a pale blue minaret. It rises above a cluster of boxy, tan-coloured buildings that form a network of narrow alleyways around a central street where a lively market is in full swing. Some of the buildings are topped with decorative crenellations, others have big plastic water butts on their roofs, some are adorned with plaster columns with a faintly Middle Eastern air. The buildings become simpler as they get farther from the centre of town, fading into blank grey boxes with window-shaped cutouts in the hazy distance.
It looks as if it could be a film set for Hollywood’s latest Arabian epic, or a new live-action Disney show, ready for Aladdin to swoop in on his carpet. But this is a theatre of a very different kind. It is not Aladdin but an Apache helicopter that suddenly appears overhead, its blades narrowly missing the minaret as a rapid volley of gunfire echoes through the streets. A tank rumbles around the corner, aiming towards a building on which armed figures patrol the roof. There’s a big bang, and clouds of smoke engulf the street. A human body starts convulsing on the ground, spurting with fake blood.
