2085

by Alejandro Volnié

  The string trio would be in charge of playing selected tunes from her favorite classical music, and while this would be happening, she would manage to keep a relaxed atmosphere by behaving casual while dealing with their guests. She was glad to have the opportunity to show her skill as an organizer. She was sure to get an event worth to be commented.

  Minutes later her husband got to the dining room, looking fresh after having showered and changed clothes. He sat in a corner of the room, from where he could watch her busy, giving the final touches to the stage that would frame this important occasion. He was now in his element. His anxiety of hours before from the visit of his boss now had faded. The combination of fatigue from the bustle of the day and the joy of living again an episode of the life he had given up had him in a great mood.

  At this point he could not help to wistfully recognize that his previous existence had been full of good things and priceless moments. Suddenly he could not help his yearning to return to his place in this world he had so abruptly abandoned; the world in which he had always performed quite naturally.

  The sound of the doorbell brought him back to reality, making him stand up with a jump to go to the main entrance. He opened the door with an elegant move and invited the visitors in while the musicians had begun to play a Mozart sonata.

  The carefully tailored environment achieved by the precise selection of lights to illuminate the inside of the elegant residence; the aromas coming from the kitchen and the fancy background music; everything had been combined to perfection, creating the optimal setting for a gathering that would go on naturally, turning the event into a complete success for the host, who would be debuting spectacularly in the most exclusive social circle of the community.

  Bringing the conversation to simple subjects and outside work did not represent a problem for the monitor, habituated since many years ago to subtly lead others into the ideas that the organization obliged him to reinforce.

  The continuous exercise of his function within the corporation had made him become a master in the art of manipulating his peers, and this night the leader and his wife will not be the exception; they would be at the mercy of his charm as a conversationalist.

  He was enjoying that it were so easy for him to control the trend of the gathering, even though he had come to realize that in fact he was working to place his replica even better in the range of the leader’s affections. It was annoying to know that he was working to put the guy that had taken over his place in a better position within the elite group.

  On the other hand, he knew he was doing it for Lucy, who will also get benefits from this successful evening; and besides this, he knew that his replica would have been able to achieve the same result. After all, this replica was as well himself, with the same experiences and skills than him, so he would have had no problem to act identically in case of having been who attended the dinner.

  This evening the leader seemed like a nice guy. It would have been easy to get deceived if judging him only by the affable and condescending manner in which he behaved in society, especially when there were women around, to whom he appeared as a lovely man. However, he should not forget that at the same time he was a cruel and ruthless character when it came to the interests of the corporation. He should avoid at all costs succumbing to the fine and considerate treatment he was now being dispensed.

  In the end, hidden beneath the glamorous atmosphere in the room was lying the essence of the silent war prevailing in relations between the two great poles of truth, who were engaged in the struggle to prevail in the treacherous reality of the world. Now he had become a soldier in the service of his own moral who had been forced to change sides hopelessly and forever.

  Time passed unnoticed, as often happens when all the assembled are enjoying a bit of comfort and relaxation. The clock struck eleven at night, time socially agreed to terminate midweek gatherings.

  The guests left the table, where they had been since their arrival, to say goodbye according to the custom. Minutes later the couple was once again alone in the house.

  “Everything turned out beautifully,” said Lucy to her husband as soon as the door had closed behind the last of the musicians.

  “Yes, I’m happy for you. You have once again been the great hostess you’ve always been.”

  “And you have taken beautifully the thread of conversation throughout the evening.”

  “That’s my job. But enough, I need to talk to you.”

  “What is it now?”

  “Let’s go for a last glass of wine and come with me to the living room,” he said taking her hand.

  They sat on the couch. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly while trying to set his thoughts orderly. The dreaded time of revealing her the truth had come. He was searching for words that could increase his chances of convincing her to flee with him.

  He finally started under her watchful gaze:

  “Have you noticed anything different about me since I returned from the office?”

  “You surprised me when you got here. You had not acted like that in many years, and I must say that I liked it.”

  “Have you given some thought to what may have caused a change in my behavior as you have seen?”

  “Could it be that a visit from your boss thrilled you?”

  “Not at all. I hope that what you are about to hear make you wake up, and that this time I get to convince you to follow me.”

  “Awakening? Follow you? What do you mean?”

  “Promise me you will let me finish telling you what has happened without interrupting, and that only then you will give me an answer.”

  “Alright.”

  “This one you are now seeing before you is not the same one that spent last night with you.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “You promised not to interrupt.”

  “Alright.”

  “Six weeks ago I defected from the corporation. The reasons which prompted me to do so were many and now are not relevant. The fact is that once I had disappeared they produced a replica of me, and this is with whom you have been living the last few weeks. I don’t know what they may have said to justify my absence for a few days, but they must have invented something and you must have believed them, whatever the explanation may have been.”

  “Didn’t you have an accident that made you stay in a clinic for a few days?”

  “Not I. Now I see how they handled it. Actually I fled to the territory of the reaction and security forces chased me until they thought I had died, so now that I am back they have not suspected that I could be the same one. The replica with whom you have spent the recent weeks is currently in hands of a resistance group, waiting to be replanted in this house as soon as I leave from here, which I am meant to do at 12:30; within an hour or so. By now I hope to have succeeded in convincing you to come with me.”

  “I will call the doctor. It seems that you are suffering some consequence of the accident you had a few weeks ago. I have found you a bit strange since then, but you had not had a performance like this. Will you let me call?”

  “No way. What I am saying is completely true. If only you would take a few minutes to analyze it you would believe me. Please do it!”

  Lucy’s eyes had become suspicious. Now she was sitting as far from him as the couch would allow. The story she had just heard sounded too crazy to even try to analyze it. Something was wrong. He needed help immediately, so she insisted:

  “Come on! Let me call the doctor. Something is wrong with you. He will surely help us.”

  Please, don’t do it before having listened what I have to say,” he interrupted her. “Try to understand what I say. I have never lied to you. Why would I start doing it now?”

  She did not answer. She better stood up from the couch and ran desperately toward the stairs in an attempt to take refuge in the bedroom. What she was listening could not be true, as she knew that the reaction was not even an organized society. How could he have gotten th
ere? Besides, she knew that there was no such thing as the resistance. All this was but a product of his sick imagination.

  On the way up she tripped and lost one of her shoes, so she tried to climb to the top floor pulling at the railing as she stumbled to step on the stairs. He chased her and caught her when she he was about to enter the bedroom. Arms around her, he held her as he said:

  “Come on! Calm down! Don’t force me to hold you; I don’t want to hurt you. Calm down! I will not hurt you.”

  Lucy kept struggling. Now the expression on her face was panic. He understood that any further attempt to talk with her would be useless, so he carried her to the bed, and hastily pulling the amber tiara he set it on her temples to apply the isomentalizer despite her desperate resistance. She finally fell asleep, ending the violent episode.

  He sat on the edge of the bed beside the motionless body of the only love of his life. He watched her for a few minutes, caressing her chick with the back of his hand. He was feeling terrible for having caused such a pain to the woman who meant so much to him, yet he knew that there would be no memory of the incident left in her mind when she awoke the next morning, as usual, next to the replica.

  He stayed with her for a few minutes, signing off forever from her gentle presence. Then he noticed the time. Sorrowful, he stood up. He went with dull step and hands in his pockets to the garage, where he was to meet the rest of the group minutes later, just in time to exchange places with his lucky replica.

  For a minute he considered staying home and returning to his previous life even though he knew beyond all doubt that he could not be happy living in that world. Still, at this time he was feeling compelled to resign to his conscience in exchange for keeping his woman, which in reality was nothing but a pipe dream. He had to return to the world to which he now belonged by conviction and by necessity.

  The sound of tires rolling over the tiling pulled him out of his thoughts. He hurried to open the garage. His companions were arriving timely, bringing on the backseat the semiconscious guy they had been carrying for nearly 16 hours.

  As the vehicle got inside the woman took the lead again:

  “Hurry up!” she ordered Mole. “This guy is about to awake .”

  The two men wasted no time to take him to the bedroom, carrying him by his underarms while dragging his feet and scraping his shoes.

  They settled him next to the woman, who now was sleeping with a peaceful look on her face. Then they took his clothes off to give him the same treatment she had received minutes before. The scene they would leave behind would look just like that of any other night inside the bedroom.

  Mole approached Lucy for the last time and kissing her gently on the lips he muttered:

  “Be happy.”

  The squad rushed out of the house. Minutes later they were traveling at full speed toward Decoy’s apartment, where the agent would have to stay until the next day and then leave to the railway station; the starting point of his trip back to the community that would shelter him for the rest of his life.

  27

  The sun was already high in the sky. The sweltering heat in Decoy’s house had his clothes damp from sweat. When he opened his eyes, around noon, he was lying on the couch that had served him as a bed for the second consecutive night.

  Completely drowsy, it took him a moment to realize the place where he was. He had come after one in the morning, having slept the whole way in the car; then he climbed the stairs to the apartment still sleepy. All he could remember was flopping on the couch where he was awaking right now.

  The events of such a long Monday had left him exhausted, so that as soon as he had felt in the safety of the shelter he had lost touch with reality and fallen into a state of deep sleep that had not let him notice when his hostess went out in the morning.

  He decided he had not slept enough, so he closed his eyes once more to abandon himself into a state of semi-consciousness that would last for another hour. In his marasmus the memories of the events of the previous day would alternate with short periods of consciousness.

  Finally, hunger woke him up. From his abdomen was coming a series of grunts and sounds that reminded him not having received food since the fancy dinner the night before, so he had to stand up from the couch to look for something to mitigate his appetite.

  On the dining room table, a few steps away, was a plate that had been waiting him for hours, prepared earlier by the lady of the house. It was completely cold, and beside it was a brief note saying: “I could not manage to wake you up. I leave you breakfast. Don’t exit the apartment for any reason. I will be back at five.”

  He put his cold breakfast in the small kitchen oven and then went shuffling to the bathroom while the plate warmed up. His eyelids were still heavy. Minutes later, with narrowed eyes he walked his way back and stopped at the table to have his serving.

  Little by little he was regaining lucidity. His memory was bringing back, one by one, the events of the previous day. Every recollection was coming along with the sensations and the feelings that had arisen at the time, until he got tired again and decided to lie on the couch to try to sleep a little more. He did not want to think, as he knew that at this moment he would not have the strength to overcome the blame from his actions. The best solution seemed to be to escape from reality.

  But he could not get to sleep and now he was having too much spare time, which was making him uncomfortable. The inactivity into which he had fallen was a strange experience after having been busy full time in recent days, and besides, his forced confinement was starting to make him nervous.

  His maddening wait finally came to an end when the door opened, pushed by the hand of his hostess.

  “I see you are up,” she said in greeting. “This morning I could not awake you.”

  “I guess I was very tired.”

  “How did things go?”

  “Perfectly. But we had to change plans at the last minute, so I had to come back to spend the night at your house.”

  “I thought so. No problem. They will come for you in half an hour. You must get ready. While you prepare, I’ll fix you something to eat. Who knows when you will get to eat again.”

  Minutes later they were sharing the table, chatting merrily as they have done the previous morning, until the sound of the doorbell interrupted the conversation. It was Mail, who had come back to direct the agent into his escape route.

  The fat man looked in high spirits, as usual. He cheerfully greeted upon arrival:

  “How are you today? I heard that the mission was a success. We only need to get you safely out of our territory.”

  “What is the plan?” Mole asked.

  “The same one, but we have failed to communicate with Guide. I hope he did not decide to leave you behind after failing to show up at the meeting point last night,” he replied laughing, “we wouldn’t know what to do with you here.”

  The agent took his belongings and said goodbye to the woman, once again thanking her hospitality. She just smiled as she watched him going out along with his contact, who simply said:

  “We will bring back your husband in a few hours. Have fun while you still can.”

  Mail’s laughter echoed in the hallway while heading to the car.

  Once on their way, Mail explained him with a map how to get to the meeting point, as in this occasion he would not travel with him on the train. He could not risk being detected making such a trip in a workday’s afternoon, especially now that he knew for certain that his movements were being continuously tracked.”

  The station was almost empty when Mail left him at the door. The rush hour had passed. There was only one run left this day, which was about to depart. Mole hurried to reach the convoy. As soon as he was onboard he sat at the end of the car intending to go unnoticed. Now he was dressing like any other worker of the mine at his destiny in an attempt to blend in with the people coming in and out of the platforms.

  When he came off the train, night had almost fallen. He wal
ked hurriedly across the empty streets of the town. Unlike in the busy weekends, when hikers swarmed all around, now it was very lonely. His footsteps echoed amid the quiet of the place.

  He found the path that led to his rendezvous, just as Mail had explained him. He took it without slowing down to take advantage of the little daylight there still was. The ground was wet, so that the soles of his boots slipped at every step making it hard to move forward. The overcast sky, threatening to unleash a storm, had swallowed the last rays of the sun, making darkness to come ahead of the night. This time he was not carrying a flashlight to illuminate his path, so he decided to speed up his already fast steps until they had become a trot. He knew that if the little light still remaining faded away he would have trouble finding Guide.

  Despite his efforts, night won the race. Now he could not perceive even the slightest trace of light. He was guessing that he was over half a mile away from his destiny. The trail had become uneven and the risk of suffering an accident while moving in the dark was high, so he had to stop the march and stay still, just standing there, not even daring to look for a place to sit.

  “If only a thunderbolt storm broke out,” he thought, “the flashing could help me to go on.”

  But this did not happen and soon he was on the verge of an anxiety fit. He was stranded in the middle of nowhere and unable to move.

  Time began to pass very slowly. He was afraid that if he didn’t make it Guide would depart without him as he would not know about his fate for the second day in a row, and this time he was not carrying the gear to repeat his journey of six weeks before. He was missing the almost full moon that had lightened his trip that time. The new moon of this night had complicated his situation enough to make him lose all hope of progress before dawn.

  The forest around was completely silent. There was no sound besides those of the foliage while moving every now and then under the wind. For a moment he seriously considered loudly calling Guide, but he immediately discarded such an idea. It could attract unwanted attention and he had no explanation for his presence in this place and time. He had to wait.