2085

by Alejandro Volnié

  His personal version of the Promised Land was lying right ahead.

  He walked the path to the base of the mountain and stopped at a small pool of clear water, fed by the waterfall into which the stream he had followed all day long changed. He decided it was time to wash up. He smelled from previous days sweat buildup, and the dark shade on his face accounted for the days passed since his last shave.

  Water was cold, this made his breathing paralyze when he plunged. He went back immediately to the bank to lather profusely. Then he stood on a rock and plunged again to rinse the soap, this time head first. He reached again the shore and sat on the same rock. The chattering of his teeth was uncontrollable. It would take him a while to recover his body heat, but it was worth it. This act symbolized a cleansing.

  He intended to enter his new world free in body and mind from all traces of the previous one.

  6

  The clock on the meeting room’s wall read four in the afternoon. All those who were there, in their seats already, stood up at once. The leader took his place and everybody sat down again, waiting attentive to hear his voice:

  “Today, around noon, the staff of the Internal Security Central has found and captured the deserter while he was about to board a train bound for a neighboring town.”

  The applause was immediate. Everybody stood up to exchange comments on the power and efficiency of the corporation. The news was giving them that feeling of assurance in the system that only achieving a great success can provide.

  However, this wasn’t but one more of the many tricks that the leader commonly used to maintain his image of power and infallibility. He knew that the hunting was still on. They had managed to track down the fugitive’s escape route to the start of that path just outside the mining town, where his walk had begun four days earlier. It should be just a matter of time for the lethal corporate’s arm, which stretched all across the planet, to finally reach him. Few have managed to escape from it along history and no one in the last two years.

  “Now we’ll listen each of your reports in the customary order.”

  The meeting would last for another half an hour. It would take only a little touching up to the reports to establish the official truth, thereby protecting the image of the organization.

  In the command room at the headquarters of the Internal Security Central five people were busy. They were dealing with an extremely delicate matter which should not transcend beyond the small group of specialists inside.

  As the fugitive had managed to travel beyond the borders of the overdeveloped world, they had to come with a different plan for his capture.

  Now they would have to resort to their vast network of informants and undercover agents infiltrated into the reaction. It was easy to infer the direction taken by the dissident, and their calculations predicted that the journey would take him five days, so they would wait for him at the very endpoint of his journey through the woods and catch him.

  Until that day, all those who had taken such route had come to the same small farming community. It would be right there where they would set the first trap.

  At this time, the orders to the agents in charge of the operation were being issued. It would only take a few hours to prepare the fugitive’s reception.

  The effort of moving forward as fast as he could together with that morning’s decision to walk in spite of daylight and renouncing to his rest, paid off in the end. A small farm, the human settlement nearest to the border of the community to which he was arriving, had come within his sight already. It had only taken him four days to get there, one day less than those estimated by his pursuers. Now he was about to make contact with others of his kind for the first time since he took the trail.

  The sun was slightly above the horizon. The cloudy sky that had protected him all day from the mountain sun finally had begun to open, making a vividly colored sunset. A flock of sheep that looked rather pink under the warm light of the west walked towards the corral adjacent to a small house. A few feet behind the cloud of dust raised by the animals, a farmer followed by his dogs was riding an old horse.

  Such a bucolic scene unleashed an avalanche of remembrances on the fugitive. In the world he was coming from no livestock of any kind had been raised since the mid-fifties, however, the long trips to the country during his youth had been filled with scenes like the one in front him. He had to stop and stare at this image that had brought back memories so precious.

  With renewed optimism he reached the main entrance of the house and knocked on the aged wood of the door frame.

  The farmer’s wife slightly drew the curtain of the door’s window and looked out. Not recognizing the visitor, she called her husband with a loud voice.

  A moment later the old wooden door opened to allow the visitor in. His nose filled with a thousand scents that evoked once again those old times, when life still seemed simple and spending time with the family was always comforting. The deep voice of his host greeted him:

  “A dissident! It has been almost two years since we received the last one. Come in and sit by the fire.”

  “I appreciate your hospitality,” replied the visitor, “but, how did you know I’m a fugitive?”

  “There have been so many over the past twenty years that I’ve lost count. It’s easy to read their gazes when they knock at our door. Their eyes always betray their hopes, although many are meant to fail in reaching the end. In recent times we hadn’t received any of you, at least for the last two years.”

  “Thanks again for having me. My name is...”

  The big man put his finger to his mouth and interrupted him with an even deeper pitch:

  “Neither I nor you want anybody here to know your name, that could only bring us trouble. You are welcome, but please don’t tell us anything we don’t want to know. We have provided a start push to many like you who came seeking a new life; some of them did not succeed. All that we ignore about you and your past will ultimately help you reach your destination. Consider this as a mere stopover on your journey. You are among friends. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes, in the meantime sit down and rest. I guess you’ve had a long day.”

  Minutes later dinner was being served on the dining room raw wood table. The aroma of roast lamb with a side order of potatoes cooked with onions was mixing with the scent of apple pie still cooking in the oven. The loaf of homemade bread over the table didn’t resemble the perfect pieces available at the bakeries back where he came from, but it smelled better than anything else.

  The sound of footsteps descending the stairs made him turn around. It was the youngest daughter of his hosts, showing up to share dinner. When she noticed the unexpected guest she didn’t flinch. She just took her place at the table and waited motionless until her father finished the blessing of food.

  The scene reminded him once again the years of his childhood. Long ago, he had been part of a family very similar to this one.

  The calm of the event was only interrupted from time to time by the sounds and the few words exchanged to keep it going. The exquisite flavors and simplicity of the service challenged his old habit of being served only by the best performers of the culinary arts. He hadn’t tasted a menu like this one for the last 30 years.

  Once dinner was over the farmer’s voice broke the silence:

  “It’s only a matter of time for someone to show up asking about you with some lame excuse. I’m surprised that some unexpected visitor hasn’t appeared yet, however, it will certainly happen. Over the years that we’ve lived in this place the same story has repeated each time. We will pretend not to know anything, but you, in return, will remain for a few days locked in a room hidden beneath this table. During this time you must not make a single sound. You will receive from us all your supplies. Your absolute discipline is essential. We’ll all be taking the risk along with you, and our fate as well as your own and of those who come after you will depend on your discipline. If you decide you are not willing to play by our rules you
must leave now. However, I must let you know that until today, the few that have survived the same adventure that you are running, have all left from the room where you will hide.”

  The headlights of a car suddenly illuminated the room. The farmer’s wife rushed to the table, and pushing it exposed the trap door in the floor that led to the secret shelter. She hastily opened it while pointing the way with a gesture. Without stopping to think about it, the fugitive plunged into the underground. When the newcomers knocked at the door, everything looked normal inside the house.

  The farmer opened the door. Then he looked to the visitors for a moment. They were wearing the regulation uniform of the security forces, but he failed to recognize them, so he guessed they were part of the squad that chased his guest.

  He saluted them addressing the senior one:

  “Good evening, officers. What brings you here?”

  “We are pursuing a dangerous criminal who fled in this direction and we know he will arrive in this community in the next few hours. You should not give him asylum for any reason, as he has a long record of violent crimes. For your safety we will keep your house under electronic surveillance during the upcoming days. Please contact us at this address if you notice anything that doesn’t seem normal, no matter how small it may be,” the senior officer said, then he handed him a small card with the information needed to reach them.

  “We will be watching,” consented the man behind the door, and then he thanked them for their presence pledging to work along with them.

  From that moment on nobody would bring up the subject again inside the house. How many days of monitoring would it be this time? The previous occasion it had been five, and at least it should be the same in this case for the electronic monitoring to be suspended. The refugee had been lucky to beat his hunters for just a couple of hours; however, the challenge of enduring in the hideaway would be really hard to beat. More than one had failed to remain out of the reach of the sophisticated intelligence method now undergoing, which was limited only by its inability to trespass thick ground.

  In the back of the shelter the occupant was preparing to sleep. The deep darkness inside forced him to grope for his belongings. When he finally managed to slip into his sleeping bag, he lay down letting out a long sigh and then his thoughts began to flow:

  “Wow that is dark in this place! I cannot see anything. Not even the faintest beam of light gets in here. And the musty smell is unbearable. I must resist. I’ve been lucky so far. I wonder, how long will I stay in this place? There was no time for explanations, but hopefully not much. Are there bugs here? I’ve never liked insects. Better not to think about that. How might things at home be? What might Lucy have thought? Had they treated her fairly? I fear I have caused her great suffering. I really miss her; however, I rather die fleeing than spend eternity enslaved by the corporation. What comes next? Will I be able to get to a densely populated place where I can mingle with the crowd? I don’t know, but I’m compelled to go on and I will.”

  His eyes closed as he revived the images of his former home and then he fell asleep. For the first time in days he was feeling safe.

  7

  The subtle steps of the bug walking across his cheek made him sit up in one spring while his fingers swept his face where it itched.

  He sat still, turning his eyes left and right but without perceiving the slightest trace of light. Uneasiness seized him. Such an abrupt awakening was making his heart beat fast while trying to guess how much time had elapsed since he entered the hideout. His first impulse was to set on the tiny processor usually on his wrist but he remembered that he wasn’t wearing it any longer. He had left it on the train. The scanning under which the house was could detect any emissions from the inside, so he shouldn’t activate any of the portable devices that had helped him during the early stages of his journey; not even the flashlight, still in his backpack.

  At this point he realized the true size of the challenge he was facing. Suddenly, his life had entered a phase lacking cadence. There would be neither day nor night for him; neither sounds nor the scents that often come with them, or a measure of time that could provide some rhythm to his existence.

  He decided to keep his mind busy. Seize the time to make a thorough retrospective of his personal history, beginning from the oldest memories he could retrieve. At each step he should revive the events and the feelings related to them. His thoughts went back to his early childhood, and from that point he fell into a sort of trance that would last many hours.

  Time became meaningless during this endless alternation of lapses of sleep and meditation, only interrupted by the eventual downfall of bags of food through the opening left when one of the boards of the upper floor was slid. Their arrival was announced every time by an intense glow that forced him to shut his eyes tightly and to cover his face with his forearm.

  Finally, one night he heard the noise of the table legs dragging on the wooden floor while the voice of the landlady warned him:

  “I’m going to open the door right now. Cover your eyes. Although the room is dark, this little light may hurt them.”

  Her voice took him by surprise. The thrill of finally being released made him jump up in a hurry to find his jacket and cover his face with it.

  When the entrance was opened the room above filled with the stench of the shelter. The woman had to hurry to open the windows.

  Groping, the newly released prisoner tried to climb the earthen ramp that lead outside; however, his limbs were stiff due to the long period of inactivity and this was making his journey almost impossible.

  Then he felt the farmer’s strong hand grabbing his arm to help him overcome the obstacle, and soon he was standing in front of his protectors. The glow irritating his retinas felt like daggers stabbing his skull; however, he knew that he gradually would recover his ability to see, it was just a matter of letting a few hours pass.

  A chair was pulled to let him sit and then his host’s words sounded cheerfully:

  “Oh boy! You urgently need to bathe! You smell worse than the stable by the end of winter. How did confinement become you? I guess not too bad. I’ve seen others come out from there in a worse condition.”

  “How long was I there?”

  “Let’s see… You arrived last Monday by nightfall, and now it is Tuesday night already, so it’s been exactly eight days.”

  “I see. What’s next?”

  “First of all you must clean up. We will launder your clothes and do our best to make you feel again like a human being. The scanning of the house stopped since before yesterday, which lets us assume that you are not sought anymore in this area. This morning I talked about it with some neighbors who were also being watched and they said the same to me. Anyway, you will better stay with us for a couple of days and continue your journey next Thursday after sunset. Meanwhile, you will not set foot outside. We must be cautious. Although most people in this region sympathize with dissidents like you, you better keep a low profile.

  In the building of the Internal Security Central, the officers in charge of the persecution were meeting again. They had lost track of the fugitive. Little did they get from traveling his runaway route back and forth or from the siege to the farming community where they had expected him to arrive. Now they needed a new search strategy. However, three days before they had been instructed to inform the leader that the mission had been successfully accomplished. The image of the board’s private police shouldn’t be undermined just for a simple mishap. Report falsifying was one more of the customary procedures to safeguard the myth of corporate infallibility. The leader himself had taken such an action a few days ago.

  At Lucy’s home things were back to normal. Her husband had left the clinic Monday of the week before, as planned, and returned at her side being the same man. He was taking two weeks off to recover and this night they were chitchatting after dinner as usual. He looked thinner and moved heavily. They had been explained that it would take some time after th
e unfortunate accident for his body to regain its usual shape. Excepting the expression of calmness that now filled his face, the man didn’t seem any different. They had a lot to thank to modern medical science.

  8

  Departure time was close. Seating at the table, four merry diners were going through the last bites of a delicious pot roast.

  As the dishes were empty, the guest could not refrain himself anymore, and addressing the head of the family that had given him so much in exchange for nothing, he broke the silence. He needed to get an answer to the question that had haunted his mind lately:

  “A few days ago I stood for the first time in front of you,” he began. “Setting eyes on me was enough for you to understand my situation, and you sheltered me without hesitation. You didn’t mind the danger or the troubles that I carry along and which now I’ve made yours as well. Instead, I have received from you without being asked anything in return. You have harbored me and fed me. You have hidden me at the risk of your own safety. You have washed and cleaned after me. You have put up with my presence in the privacy of your family. I have received endless hours of advice from you. You have not accepted any compensation from me or even asked me to help in domestic chores. Your kindness falls beyond my understanding. People like you do not exist in the place I come from. I find it hard to understand the trust you have given me to share your space with no restrictions, allowing me to stay for long hours alone among everything you own, and even more when you do not show the slightest suspicion of fearing any evil from me. Who are you? What are you made of? Is everybody in this side of the world like you?”

  A burst of laughter from the farmer interrupted his speech. Both women in the room joined the man to laugh along with him. It was such an explosion of hilarity that even the guest got swept into it and ended up laughing at par to the point that tears welled in his eyes. When calmness finally came back, the farmer answered wiping his tears with his shirt’s sleeve: