Others believe the disgraced Mubarak has been dead for months, while some say he is in perfect health and living the good life in jail. “I don't think Mubarak is as sick as they claim he is, because no one has three heart attacks and a brain clot and survives them all in one week—our doctors are not that good,” Mahmoud Salem, author of the popular blog “Rantings of a Sandmonkey” said in an interview.

Mubarak’s lawyers later confirmed that he isn’t dead, but is experiencing a "fast deterioration of his health” and he has since come off life support. They say he has been transported from prison, where he is serving a life sentence for protester deaths last year, to a military hospital in the Cairo suburb of Maadi. Not that anyone believes them. Such is the mood in Cairo on the eve of learning who the next president will be—with both camps claiming victory and a bulk of the opposition turning their efforts toward ousting the military leadership. Tens of thousands poured into Tahrir Square on Tuesday night in what was more a celebration than a demonstration. Some jubilantly waved Morsi banners and assured skeptics that victory is inevitable. Buses were parked all along the outskirts of Tahrir Square on Tuesday as hordes of people from the countryside traveled in to take part in the festivities.

“Thank God, Mohammed Morsi is our president and he will fix all that is wrong with our country,” said Omar Mohammed, 23, who bused in from the governorate of Fayoum to take part in the rally.

With both camps claiming victory and official results not expected until June 21, tens of thousands of people poured into Tahrir Square Tuesday night with spirits reminiscent of the 18-day demonstration that brought down the former regime. The protesters donned face veils or long, thick beards and carried campaign posters of Muslim Brotherhood candidate Mohamed Morsi—the presumed winner by many. Some, young hipsters by American standards, carried red socialist flags. Others brought their children and waved red, white, and black banners that read “I love Egypt.” To many activists in Egypt, it doesn’t matter who wins the presidential election. One theme was universal across the square: the revolution continues.

Even as the last of the votes were being counted and Mubarak death rumors made the rounds yet again, demonstrators chanted in unison, denouncing the country’s current ruler—the military—following a series of recent legislations that some say amounted to a soft coup. They chanted: “We’ll finish what we started! Down, down, military rule.” Faced with the dilemma of choosing between the stalwart former Air Force commander Ahmed Shafiq and Morsi of the Muslim Brotherhood, many are fearful that a military clampdown is inevitable, regardless of who the president is.

But they also predicted that if he’s unable to restore stability and stem widespread poverty, Morsi would likely resort to what Israelis see as a time-tested sop in the Arab world: blaming Israel.

“Once he understands that he has no quick solution to cope with the social and economic problems, he’ll start talking about the problem of Egypt’s relations with Israel,” says Eli Shaked, who served as Israel’s ambassador to Egypt from 2004 to 2005.

“It’s the easiest way to get populist support.”

And they just might—a prospect that scares as many Egyptians as it excites.

Eighteen months after the ouster of Egyptian president Hosni Mubarak, Egypt’s presidential run-off between the Muslim Brotherhood’s Mohammed Morsi and Ahmed Shafiq, Mubarak’s last prime minister and a former Air Force general, has morphed into a national identity crisis.  It’s a contest of power between political Islam and remnants of the Mubarak regime. Shafiq’s seemingly out-of-nowhere success indicates exactly what revolutionaries have feared all along: a resurgence of the former ruling regime's political machine that never really went away. Such hunches seemed to be confirmed on Thursday when Egypt’s judiciary ruled to dissolve the democratically elected, Islamist-led Parliament, while also confirming the right of Shafiq to run for president, escalating an already heated battle for power between the remnants of the toppled regime and rising Islamists. The ruling essentially means that whoever emerges as the winner of the runoff scheduled for this weekend will take the helm in Egypt without a parliament, a constitution, or a definite framework for assembling one. That winner will most likely also control the election of a future Parliament.

The military, de facto ruler of the country since Mubarak’s resignation, has suffered a severe decline in public opinion following a number of violent clashes with protesters that evoked a bitter outcry. Making matters worse, a government decree passed earlier this week allows military police and intelligence to detain civilians and refer them to military tribunals—a ruling reminiscent of Mubarak-era tactics used to crush dissent. The military may soon surrender the top seat, but recent developments signal that it will continue to play an active role in governance, regardless of who wins.

All the while, the economy is in shambles, and citizens who were already struggling to make ends meet before the revolution are now barely getting by, fueled only by hope that change for the better is on the brink. 

Facing off this weekend: Ahmed Shafiq, 70, a former Air Force commander and the last prime minister appointed by Mubarak, and Mohammed Morsi, 60, a U.S.-educated engineer and chairman of the Muslim Brotherhood’s political wing, the Freedom and Justice Party. For weeks, the two have appeared in campaign ads and traveled across Egypt, meeting citizens and addressing their concerns, with hope of establishing new loyalties amid this turbulent period. Egypt's high court also issued a last-minute ruling allowing Shafiq to continue his bid, despite his links to the previous regime.

“The only thing that really has changed is that after the revolution … they’ve discovered PR. Before that they really didn’t care.”

Egypt’s police have returned to the streets in nearly full force; in some districts their grip is less firm than it used to be, but they’ve largely revived their thug-and-informant-based control networks and retained the penchant for stationhouse brutality and coerced confessions.  Curiously, this return to power has coincided with an increase in street crime and rising public perception of widespread instability.

It’s a twin phenomenon that some find to be more than a coincidence. Some observers such as Alaa Aswany, a bestselling novelist and longtime opposition activist, believe the police and security infrastructure are either sitting back and letting the situation on the streets deteriorate or actively involved in making it worse.

At one level, this uncertainty is to be expected—the candidates have only had a month to campaign, and most voters’ understanding of them is hazy at best. There has been only one presidential debate—a grueling three-hour affair in which only two candidates participated and which was aired on a private satellite TV station whose penetration in Egyptian households is unknown. Voters have simply not had the opportunity to see the candidates and their views pitted against each other. 

At the same time, the smart money has long been on the Muslim Brotherhood. After all, the country handed Islamists 70 percent of the seats in its Parliament not six months ago. One can be forgiven for thinking that it would be unlikely then to turn around and elect a non-Islamist to the presidency. For this reason, many expect a runoff between Mursi (the Muslim Brother) and Aboul Fotouh (the former Muslim Brother).

But this is by no means assured. The Brotherhood has lost some of its luster in recent months. Its parliamentarians (admittedly, unfairly) have come under attack for not magically solving Egypt’s problems in their five months in office. The defection of Aboul Fotouh has generated a split within the movement, with many younger brothers torn between loyalty to party and their affection for the genial physician and activist, whose campaign for change has managed to attract an almost impossibly broad tent of liberals and religious conservatives. And finally, the Brotherhood’s decision to field Mursi for president (after having earlier declared that it would not seek a share of executive power) has caused many to doubt the movement’s storied reputation for honesty.

Maybe someone should’ve explained to both men that you are not supposed to debate your opponent in presidential debates, but rather use the time and media attention to talk to the undecided and give them the messages you were prepped to deliver by your handlers, instead of coming off looking like bickering old hags.

When they weren’t attacking each other in the most undignified ways possible, both candidates gave the most centrist answers they could come up with. And both came out looking wishy-washy to undecided voters. That was one presidential debate that no one won, and it left the average Egyptian voter thinking that neither candidate should be elected president.

There are arguably six Egyptian voting blocs: Muslim Brotherhood, non–Muslim Brotherhood Islamists (mostly Salafis), liberals, revolutionaries (many leaning left and the majority are supporters of Mohamed ElBaradei), old-regime backers, and independents. Moussa was counting on liberals, old regime backers, independents, and some revolutionary voters who will see him as the only alternative to the Islamists. Fotouh was counting on getting the ElBaradei supporters, the independents, some liberals, and some of the Muslim Brotherhood votes. Both candidates hoped to amass enough votes to get into the runoff elections, and both are now facing the possibility that their calculations might be wrong.