2085
Page 17
“Excellent!”
They sat down and their faces finally came in sight.
The one who had just spoken was a corpulent man about 5’ 5” tall wearing a gray bushy beard. His skin was furrowed by wrinkles, his prominent bulbous nose made his brown eyes look squinted, and the thick lips arising from the shrub of hair that covered his face looked particularly rosy.
The second one was slender, slightly taller and looked well-kept. His skin, tanned from the sun, made his honey-colored eyes seem even clearer, and the lines of his mouth and nose were thin, matching perfectly with his sharp jaw. Unlike his companion, he was carrying a hiking backpack from which a sleeping bag hung.
“Well!” said the man with the beard, “I am Mail and he is Decoy. Who here is Mole?”
“Guide and Mole,” answered the first one pointing respectively.
“I am one of the leaders of the resistance. So we like to call ourselves,” continued the man doing the speaking. “First I will explain to you the mechanics of your raid: Mole will go in carrying Decoy’s remote access unit while he stays with Guide in a cave that we have specially prepared a few miles away from here. This way the trackers will not detect the substitution. The valley across the top of this mountain has plenty of visitors at this time, who among other things ride horses; therefore, any traces of your animals will go unnoticed. Mole will go down with me at sunset, just when hiker’s activity reaches its peak. We will travel by train to the city and he will spend the night at Decoy’s house. Thus, for all trackers everything will seem to be in order. In the morning the team helping you with the substitution will pick you up. They will give you instructions further on. For obvious security reasons, nobody knows the details of the entire mission. Upon Mole’s return you will meet at a different point; Decoy will take Guide up there on Monday night. There you will give him back his remote access unit, as you will still be carrying it. Is everything clear?”
“How will Decoy justify his absence?” Mole asked.
“I am a supervisor at the vegetable production plant in which we both work, so I have scheduled him a vacation period for the upcoming week; this way we all are covered.”
“Am I expected at Decoy’s house?” he asked.
“Decoy lives in the only company of his wife, who is also an active member of the resistance. When we tell her that you will be spending the night at home there will be no problem, but I have not told her yet. You must exchange clothes with him before leaving, so that if someone sees you entering his house it will be more likely that you get mistaken for him. In any case, we will go in together, which will make things easier and will look normal as I visit him often. This very morning I drove to pick him up.”
“I see you have prepared a good plan,” said Mole. “We will make it work.”
“We better do. Our lives depend on it.”
The evening came, putting an end to the confinement that had kept restless the four men in the cave. Dressing as Decoy, Mole came out accompanied by Mail, who took advantage of the walk to instruct him on some details:
“You should not talk to me during the train ride nor while we are on board of my car or when we have people around us, as the corporation spies on all personnel not-required to undergo mental backups. We can never be sure that we are not being heard.”
“I understand,” answered Mole.
“We have traveled by train because my car is not in good condition to make a long journey, as is to be expected of a low-level worker. I have chosen to do my job in a mediocre way, giving up any chance of progress, so I do not have to become obliged to submit to the dreaded mental backups or to decline a promotion, which would be a suicide as things stand today. I decided to sacrifice my income in exchange for keeping my intellectual freedom. For the same reason I serve in the resistance. There are many of us who think this way. People interacting with you until your return will all be of this kind. I tell you all this so that you understand that you can and must trust those who will be supporting you. Our goal is to dismantle the corporations, and the only way we have is to convince the majority of people that they live in error. This might have been easier a few years ago, when many people still held religious beliefs and practiced some cult, but now, with the pretext of immortality, it has become increasingly complicated. Materialism has come to enslave the majority. Within the resistance we are still idealistic. We also need that the part of the world from where you are coming survive at any cost, as it is the living example that corporations are not invincible. We need you to succeed in your mission just as well as those who sent you.”
“I understand, and to your relief I have to say that even at the highest levels of corporate power the true dimensions of the resistance are ignored, to the extent that everyone downplays your existence, which means that you have been successful in passing unnoticed.”
“Glad to hear it, but it’s not enough. We must keep fighting at any cost.”
The proximity of the plain where there still was a large number of visitors made them stop the conversation and continue their way in silence. Mole was feeling comforted by what he had just heard. He had realized he was not the only one who had become jaded from the controlled way of life to which the inhabitants of this part of the world were bounded. Now he was even more certain to have acted right when he defected and more motivated to succeed in his mission.
They crossed the valley stepping on its soft grass and took the road that started from the opposite end. They walked for a few minutes, until at the end of the trail they saw the mining village that had witnessed his escape a few weeks before. Mole recalled how he was feeling the day he set off. He realized he could not have guessed that he would be back so soon, and even less that he would be coming as a spy. However, he was feeling calm and at peace with himself, which was more than he ever had when living the easy and predictable life that his job had assured him for many years.
They walked the streets of the small town to find the train station, which turned out to be crowded, just as expected. The journey to the city was free of mishaps and one hour later they were in Mail’s car.
He had not lied; his vehicle was indeed in a terrible condition. It seemed that it would not even set off. Suddenly he realized that he could not remember having seen cars in such conditions when he still was living there; however, it was a fact that they existed, and as they had kept going towards the area where Decoy’s house was, they would be seen with increasing frequency. Now he had come to understand that the endeavors of the corporations to deceive their employees of a certain level and beyond included keeping them away from reality by providing them an easy life in a world artificially embellished; making them ignore the part of the community that was considered low-level. The looks of this section of the town were not very different from those of the cities of the reaction.
Mail stopped the car in front of a large clump of buildings. Decoy’s house was actually a small apartment in this crowded assembly and they had to climb four floors up a narrow stairway to get to it.
Such an exercise made Mail to be snorting and sweaty when they reached the door of the apartment. He rang the bell and waited a few seconds. The door opened to the tiny figure of a middle-aged woman, with long black hair and very white skin, who greeted Mail familiarly. When she set eyes on Mole her dark round eyes widened even more; however, controlling her reaction she invited them in.
Mail started the conversation:
“Mole is an agent on mission. The resistance is helping him.”
“I see,” said the woman.
“Your husband has lent him his electronic identity to move within the city without arousing suspicion, so he must pass this one night at your home. This way his displacements pattern will not be altered in case someone decides to check on it.”
“How long will he stay here?”
He will only be spending this night here. Tomorrow at this same time your husband will be back.”
“Sounds OK. Count on me.”
“If there’s no more,” the woman said jokingly, “I’ll appreciate that you first of all take a shower. You smell an awful mixture of sweat and horse and I will not let you sleep in this house like this.”
Mail said goodbye and Mole headed toward the cramped bathroom. Compared to this one, that in the hotel where he had stayed a few weeks ago seemed to be large. The routine would be similar to the one on that occasion, as this either was not a luxury and intelligent shower like the one he used to enjoy in his old house.
As he came back in the room, with his hair still damp but smelling clean, she invited him to sit at the table.
“I guess you have not eaten, so I prepared something special. We do not receive visitors here, except for Mail and his wife, who come from time to time.”
“It has been long since I had a nice homemade dinner.”
“Well, this is your chance. Hope you like it.”
She shared the table with him while the conversation spun around trivialities. Mole soon discovered that she was a brilliant person, with deep knowledge in many subjects. He learned that she had a college degree but just like her husband she had chosen to live outside the control of corporations. The price they had had to pay had been to sacrifice their economic position, which did not hurt them while in exchange they had been allowed to keep their freedom of thought. Mole felt compelled to compare himself with them. He recalled having done exactly the opposite, renouncing to his principles for the sake of economic and social privileges, but only to finally return to the same point where they were now. He was admired by the moral integrity of his hostess. Now he had understood why he could trust her.
24
The delicate hand of the woman, shaking him gently by the shoulder, brought him out of the deep sleep in which he was.
“It’s six o’clock,” she whispered, “you must get ready.”
He had slept all night in one stretch despite being lying on a narrow couch that in other time would have seemed uncomfortable to him.
“Come on!” she urged him. “I’ll make breakfast while you dress.”
In response, Mole let out a long groan while heavily getting up. Then he reached out for the bag with the clothes and personal care items he needed to regain his former looks. He grabbed it with his right hand and shuffled to the bathroom.
About thirty minutes had passed when the door was opened again. She turned at the sound of the latch. Then she looked at him for a moment.
“Wow!” she exclaimed in surprise, “you’ve really changed.”
The sophisticated executive smiled flattered. His grooming had been as thorough as it had used to be until six weeks before, starting with a precise shave and ending with his favorite lotion. The suit they had tailored for him fitted just as well as those of the best class, providing the distinguished look that had always characterized him.
“I am concerned you may attract attention dressing this way in this neighborhood. I’m afraid you’ll have to go back to yesterday’s clothes and change once in the car, or else you will bring us trouble.”
“I had thought about it already,” he replied nodding his head, “but the temptation to see me once more dressing this fine overcame me. I will do as you advise me.”
Minutes later they were sharing a hearty breakfast while resuming their spirited chat of the night before. There was a natural affinity between them, which had led Mole to think about the many times when he had shunned the trust of others, avoiding conversations with almost everyone outside his social environment or his workplace, and when he had had to do it, he had always restrained to irrelevant topics just to comply with good manners.
But now, the more people he was getting to meet, the greater his satisfaction from talking and getting to know others was. At this time he had come to realize that when Naim claimed to have returned him to his childhood, this renewed youth included those personality features that are based upon innocence, such as trusting others and making friends naturally.
He had moved from a world intending to keep his body young to one that had given back freshness to his spirit. He was satisfied with this change.
When they looked at the clock they noticed there were only ten minutes missing for his appointment. Time had flown. Mole hastily stood up to search his belongings. She walked him to the door to see him off with a kiss on the cheek as she said:
“Have a good way. Follow your heart.”
“I appreciate your hospitality. You will be in my thoughts. You are a good person,” he replied.
The door closed behind him. He walked slowly down the corridor, amazed at the ease with which he could now relate to others. He would never see again any of the people he had recently met, and yet he knew that he would remember them for the rest of his life. Each one of them, in their own way, had enriched the new perception of the world he was forging now, and yet in the moment his life was full of uncertainties, he was gradually getting to feel more at peace.
He went down the stairway. Once on ground level he took the walk that ended outside this gray and neglected housing complex. As he was going he could see neighbors leaving their homes to go to work apace. When he reached the street he noticed the line that went around the corner; they were people waiting for the bus. Then he remembered that he had not needed to use public transportation during his most recent 40 years.
The more thought he was putting into it; the more he was coming to realize that he had been dormant before reality for too long; further each day from the life that most of the community was forced to live. Now he was wondering if that would not have been part of the strategy used by the leader to control him. After all, his job of the later years had been to convince others that the ways of the corporation were the ultimate truth, and what better way to get him to do it fully convinced than keeping him deceived.
The unexpected voice of a woman calling brought him out of his self-absorption:
“Mole?”
“Yes,” he replied startled. “Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts.”
“Come on! We have no time to lose.”
She opened the rear door of the car and beckoned him to go inside. She did the same right away.
Two men were on the front seats of the vehicle. As the sound of the door closing was heard, the car set off.
“You must change clothes at once,” the woman ordered.
He obeyed without answering. The narrowness of such an uncomfortable space made it hard to move, so it took him nearly ten minutes to change and put in his backpack what he had been dressing.
When he finally leaned back against the seat with a sigh, he noticed that the car was going fast on the freeway leading to his former house.
“Where are we doing the change?” he asked.
“In the garage,” flatly said the one riding in the front seat beside the driver.
The man who had answered was tall and tan, with black and straight short hair, and about 35 years old. His fine features and dark round eyes contrasted with those of the driver, who was rather low and of oriental features, and was wearing a tangled hairdo.
The woman on the back seat, however, was higher than the two men, white-skinned, slightly freckled, with brown hair pulled on the neck and light-brown eyes. Her serious expression and her air of confidence let guess that she was in charge.
Soon they left the freeway. In the distance he could see the road bordered by tall trees that for many years had announced him the proximity of his home; but this time, instead of the usual feeling of relief, the sight triggered a series of reactions in his stomach that were threatening to make him sick.
He had to struggle to overcome his nervousness. He breathed deeply and exhaled slowly several times to restore his calm. Since he knew that he should go back and confront his replica he had feared the moment, for which now there were
missing just a few minutes.
“You will open the garage door so we can hide this vehicle inside,” the woman instructed him. “Then we will wait until your replica gets there and we will submit him. As soon as we get his remote access unit we will put it in a special box in the trunk that will isolate its signal. You must activate yours precisely at this time; as for now, give me that of Decoy to keep it beside your replica while he is with us. Is this clear?”
“This is how we planned it,” said Mole. “I am ready,” he added while handing her the requested gadget.
“We will see you back in the parking lot of the shopping mall we just passed. At exactly 5:30. We will make the change there.”
“Right,” said Mole, feeling that nervousness was coming over him again.
The car was rolling already on the gray tiles of the access road to the house. The garage door was already in sight. The vehicle stopped noiselessly. Mole froze for a moment, until the voice of the woman brought him back to reality.
“Now!” she said, gently pushing his arm.
He reacted with a jump. Then he left the vehicle to stand in front of the large door, which slowly had begun to open as his presence had been detected, letting those who were coming see the two cars that usually parked inside as well as two more free spaces.
When the car in which they had come had parked inside he actioned the door to close again and conceal the ambush.
Everybody took their positions. Then they waited in silence. Time seemed to be standing still, making every minute last an eternity. In the deep quietness into which everything had fallen the rhythmic breathing of the four commands could barely be heard as they stood motionless, expecting the moment to get in action.
The sound of the door starting its way up set in motion the man who had traveled beside the driver. The prey was gradually revealing before him, starting from the shoes and then the legs. While the door continued its ascent, the full body of the replica promised to get in sight. The man knew that he had to act quickly so that the one who was coming did not get to see the extra car parked inside. With a quick leap he came to the figure that had not yet fully appeared. Pulling his hand from his pocket and exerting heavy pressure he pushed a rectangular apparatus on the right leg of his victim. A short, intense buzz was heard. The man standing in front of the garage collapsed unconscious.