by Unknown
We stayed in at night, listening to Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsodies and two more wonderful pieces by one of their own composers named Wesley. I hope that in a couple of months I’ll have a piano exclusively for me, and it’ll be just like the pianos of our time! Stefan promised that he would do everything in his power to get me one. Yesterday I heard him talking on the phone with the Consumfiorinin and the Partners, who hold the archives in major centres around Blomsterfor.
COMPLETION OF HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH SILVIA
22-X
Over the last few days my life has been a dream. Silvia and I have consummated our love! I constantly feel inebriated−that’s how happy I am. There is a whole ritual around the sitatska, their purple, silk, wide ribbon which they stretch over dozens of flowers, which they’ve made sure to grow in abundance in the place. Following the ancestral custom of centuries, Silvia herself tied the ceremonial ribbon to the entrance. Before we entered I took one last look; it was as if I had entered a little paradise. And then…. oh God, thank you for allowing these hands to touch that divine body without taking away the magic from our relationship! I couldn’t have imagined it better. It was the ultimate completion! Don’t worry, my beloved, with me you will never regret it!
22-X Again
(Late at night)
Her nod, however, once again reminded me of Anna. With Anna it hadn’t even crossed our minds to consummate our relationship. And I believe that if it had happened, Anna would have burst into tears and I would never have seen her again. She would have thought that our love was tainted.
TRIP TO THE NORTH: THE SUPERCITY OF NORFOR
5-X
I was unable to resist the temptation of a new, short trip to the North. Once we were there, I asked Stefan, who continued to be very patient with me, to go to the western part. I was attracted by the colours of the settlements. I think that at no time in the history of civilisations had the dream resembled reality as much as here. Lengthy platforms made of synthetic marble shed a white light along the lakeshores. Consistency in architectural design and evenly distributed blocks of mansions across the whole area had made my familiar sights unrecognisable. You couldn’t tell Vevey from Clarens or Montreux anymore; they have all become one, or rather, have ceased to exist. A modern Babylon has taken their place, inhabited by millions of people if we judge by the innumerable mansions that almost reached the mountaintops.
There was nothing left of the age-old fortress of Chillon either. In its place, hanging gardens, scaly roofs, ball fields, hostels, Civesgards and Civesheims now spread over an area that would seem unbelievable in our era. And opposite, across the pond, were the eternal snows; the artificial air conditioning they had invented was not needed this far north. At the nearby lake there was an endless feast going on. I don’t know if it was an everyday occurrence, but from above you could see its waters studded with hundreds of colourful sails for hundreds of kilometres—a delightful view to look at.
15- XI
It’s been three days now since I’ve returned to Stefan’s, and I’ve returned to my writing after this sensational week. We engage in new, interesting conversations even more often lately. You don’t know what to expect here, from one day to the next. The long-planned trip to Norfor has now been postponed until the beginning of next week, though I was never asked. I seriously couldn’t believe their haste or even indifference to a certain extent. I think they might have miscalculated the impact that sudden change of scenery could have on me. And of course, it was doomed to fail, considering what they had been expecting of me. They had brought me back within two days.
They are now forced to come to me to conduct their strange and pointless interrogation. This happened yesterday and the day before, when Jaeger brought two of the big names of the Valley to our villa, late at night, when everyone else was sleeping, just so that they could have the pleasure of hearing about the past in all kinds of detail. I did it just for Jaeger’s sake in appreciation of all his help. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t even have agreed to see them.
I had been dreaming about and looking forward to this trip to Norfor since I learnt about the existence of this “super-city” and heard people describing it as a “trip to fairy-tale land”. Everything I had read about the position of this fourth largest city in the world, combined with what Stefan and Jaeger had told me about its great influence on global lifestyle, made me long for this trip to the so-called “Flower of the North” with fervent desire.
Apparently, I had to miss the forests, the lakes and the light for a few days in order to deeply appreciate the serenity and bliss they offer and to realise that I wouldn’t change them for anything. It seemed obvious; it was not. The famous "Flower of the North" and even Skane and Artenfor, New Helsinburg and Riegen, Tholosi and the Garden of Lilies, Svendoni and the hectic city of Sgelen, and further south the Grand Torneo, the Lesley Gate and the Star of the Dawn, New Göteborg and the majestic Enole with its enormous old streets and palaces: all the current vast states of central and southern Europe, where Stefan took me from the sixth to the eighth of this month, are not for me. I do not fit in there.
I felt like my soul couldn’t breathe in those colossal, overpopulated cities that looked more like states with their massive roads in the middle of which, despite their width, you could barely find an empty square meter or see a bit of sky, with all the flying or street-moving vehicles gliding every which way. It was the apotheosis of the titanic: a continuous hustle and bustle that drains you heart and dries your mouth. This explains why, sometimes, I curled up in the linsen and didn’t want to get out even when we had reached our destination. I did not do this advertently and I think they realised this as well.
The first thing that disappointed me was the journey. In a large avenue of Markfor, on the outskirts of the giant, nearby garden city, I was distracted for a few minutes among the crowds of travellers constantly going to and fro waiting for the daner. I was filled with joy, anticipating the vehicle that would take me to the truth of their city centres. How I had looked forward to this trip! Imagine my disappointment when, only a couple of minutes after departing, Stefan told me we had arrived! I thought he was joking! Was that it? Yes, that was it.
In every place in this world, blessed by God and nature, the further you travel, the more things there are to see. Here the opposite happens: you might get stuck between four walls made of colourless metal, but if the trip is short, you can see the whole world parading before your eyes. However, if you are travelling a bit further, the only thing you’ll see is the place to which you are heading. In the meantime, you can spend your time walking around the facilities of the vehicle: the gardens that host rare flowers from around the world, the pools, the shot-put fields, the vast lounges and shops of the flying state, or you can just relax in your armchair, watching the latest news and current affairs on your Reigen-Swage or glancing at the young people dancing below the artificial light coming from the side, like a morning sunbeam that lengthens the shadows on the floor.
Norfor!
From the plateau of Vikingaand, which means the spirit of the Vikings, with its enormous quays where we docked, for the first time I saw before my bedazzled eyes a never-ending ocean of long boulevards and parks and alleys and squares and those, unfamiliar to me, gigantic buildings, which continued interminably up to the mountains and across the valley of Lyseblaa.
Holding Stefan by the arm, in the midst of a vertigo attack, I gazed in awe at this densely populated area that hosts twenty-eight million people, twenty-three of whom are permanent residents, and spanning the city a mesh of bridges, pitch black with all the people on it. And high up above, at an altitude of about three hundred kilometres, I could scarcely see the island-observatories, floating in the air, almost hidden behind the countless linsens that were incessantly coming and going. Stefan was trying to convince me that not only was this the everyday image of this city, that it’s always overcrowded and ridiculously busy, but also that, beneath our feet, deep inside the
earth, there also existed another gigantic, illuminated city, similar to this one, full of life and awash with a soothing, pale green light that greatly soothes the eyes and soul. Well, I could not believe that!
Huge streams of people, endless crowds with the same cheerful expression on their faces that every time makes me wonder if they have been given a gift or something. Frightened and bewildered by the crowd, I grabbed Stefan by the shirt to prevent him from taking me through the main road. Truth be told, I was completely at sea; my heart was beating like that of a frightened baby bird. Thankfully, Stefan once again proved extremely patient with me and let me look upon it from a distance.
In the crowd there were many young people with the badges of their universities sewn on their clothes. As time passed, I started to become more daring and joined them, getting the chance to observe them up close for the first time. What would it be like if I actually were Andreas Northam? These people might be in my circle… I was indescribably excited by this thought!
The very young, those in their early twenties, weren’t yet characterised by the comfort in manners and kind naivety of the rest, which will become a habit to them too after a few years. They seemed as if still dizzy from the recent fulfilment of their “duty” and the early acquisition of the “Cives rights”. It was as if their facial expressions were kept in place by a restrained pride that would soon give its place to the pure joy that comes at the age of twenty-three to twenty-five.
You could see them standing somewhat stiff and awkward in groups of two or three, not able to see beyond their noses, dressed in their university uniforms for the first time, with a serious look, unsuitable for their age, talking about their chosen fields of study or about the new professor—who, as Stefan learnt, was a very famous expert coming from the other side of the ocean to teach a summer course. And as expected, they were paying for their choice to isolate themselves with the indifference shown to them by the girls that passed them by.
The majority of the adults were in the company of others or with their companion. You saw all kinds of races: Tyrolean, Tuscan, Spanish women strolling gracefully down the street, wearing either the skulderbind or the skaerf of the North, and African women, whose complexion was fair, however, because, as I was informed, the entire black Continent was now inhabited almost exclusively by whites who originated from Latin America and settled in Africa centuries ago (as a result of the nuclear wars that took place circa 2309 AD and the recolonisation that followed in the years after that). You saw children from Cyprus and Malta staring in astonishment at the polar excursion advertisements on the big, self-luminous billboards. All of them had a purity and kindness, qualities that were difficult to find at these ages in our time. This is something that, in my view, is definitely connected to the existence of the “Source” that is now common knowledge among all people.
I was told that all of them have been taught history and are aware of all the different beliefs on the theme of love that prevailed in society in the past. They have heard about the sexual freedom that started from an early age and the materialistic upbringing of young children and they considered our time as “the dark ages”. They believe that everything that happened back then in matters of sexual morality is not suited to the morality of their times. They were surprised by how primitive this era had to be to degrade love and intimacy so much by reducing it only to its animalistic side and portraying it as a merely sexual instinct. They feel that the value of relationships had been disgraced and that they had reached a very low level. They don’t agree with the “scientific sexuality” of our times as they consider it superficial and deprived of the precious emotions of love and pain that a relationship with another person has to offer.
I think that these people wouldn’t last a second in our world; they wouldn’t have enough air to breathe. They’re much more emotional and sensitive than us and face life with more admiration and more hope. They wait for the years to come with joy and immense faith. And mainly because of that, the intense eroticism of our time, materialistic pleasures like group sexual encounters and the sexual delirium of our ancestors in general, would be unbearable for them. They believe in “living life as a dream”, and our lifestyle would most certainly spoil that dream.
The thing that leaves you speechless in Norfor is the massive districts-cities that, fringed with vast green spaces, succeed one another. Each of them is bigger than the Rome or Venice of our time. When I was there, I felt like I was a peer of Aristotle who suddenly found himself in an American metropolis. There was, however, a harmony and a balance between the quaint ambience and the incredibly enormous architectural constructions that surpass human imagination. College campuses surrounded by gardens, theatres, museums, libraries, and thousands of, unknown to me, institutes stretching for mile upon mile.
No matter how hard I strive, I will never manage to get the point of this vast metropolis or grasp its deeper meaning and that’s because my soul lacks guidance and a preparation of whole generations. Unlike them, the voice of their ancestors doesn’t echo in my ears and their spirit doesn’t live in me.
THE INTERROGATION: VISIT TO NORTHAM’S WORKPLACE
I think that my first contact with Norfor, that panoramic view of it from the hill of Vikingaand was the most comprehensive of all my impressions of this vast state. The very few days that I stayed there, Stefan looked baffled and distracted by the endless debates with Jaeger and four other foreigners. They actually seemed more like interrogations than conversations since poor Stefan had to answer everything and in as much detail as possible and give explanations over past “reports” on me and my case. So he didn’t even have the time to show me around the city. I have the feeling that this whole trip was planned exclusively for these foreigners, so that they could satisfy their curiosity.
They made me spend almost my entire time in the scientific lab where Northam used to work, up until a few years ago. At least I felt comfortable in there and got used to it quite easily, so I didn’t have to chase Stefan around all the time. They used to take me there after the personal labs of the researchers had closed and leave me for quite a while in Northam’s long-abandoned office among the piles of his old papers in the event that I remembered something.
I spent many hours locked inside those huge walls of the amphitheatre. Standing in front of me with some kind of a notebook were the foreigners, taking notes and trying to make me remember. And the more it became obvious that these places reminded me of nothing, the more sceptical became the blond forty-year-old who was wearing the official toga and the Tilteys’ belt, signifying his place as a mid-ranking official in their spiritual hierarchy. Both he and his companion, whose name was Stirlen as I heard, were unsuccessfully trying to hide their disappointment. This was in sharp contrast to Jaeger’s kind, patient smile and to the serene expression of faith of the others.
On the last day, a few hours before departure, they brought me a young, pale and slim, grey-eyed man, around twenty years old. His name was Alex Wettel Smith and he had just come from the Baltic countries on Stirlen’s invitation. Even though he looked tired, the second he arrived, he came and stood next to me, smiling and ignoring everyone else. I remember his name so well because I had heard that, without him, Northam wouldn’t have survived the accident. The damage would have been much worse if Alex hadn’t been near him. He had realised what was about to happen and in a fraction of a second he had thrown himself in front of Andreas in order to save the scientist he regarded so highly. He had just been discharged from the orthopaedic-surgical clinic on the shores of the Baltic a few weeks ago, where he had been hospitalised for months. It was a miracle that he survived. Yet another miracle…
Since the morning I had been hearing that the wise man with the toga and the other one, Stirlen, were basing their hopes on my “reunion” with Alex Wettel Smith. They were hoping that his image would work as a shock that would restore part of my memory since it was the last image that Northam had seen before the crash. Of course, he didn
’t remind me of anything… It was the first time I ever saw the man. They made him stay with us for over an hour and a half to talk to me about past incidents and that fateful trip.
Then, they asked me if I could remember among whom I was sitting directly before the accident. I reassured them that I didn’t remember anything before waking up in the Molsen Institute. The next thing they obsessed about was my lack of sleep. They said it was impossible that I had been awake since then and kept asking me if, even for a couple of seconds, I had slept. They were pushing me to do my best to remember a dream, any dream I might have had, even the silliest and most insignificant one. I calmly replied to them that I knew full well that I had not slept at all, not a wink.
I realised that my case had become known to a somewhat wider circle over the last few weeks although only a few people had been added to the initial “insiders”. If Stefan was being honest, not only had the Valley respected my request to protect me from becoming an object of curiosity in the eyes of the world, but also disliked the prospect of things related to my case coming out in public, especially since they still had no clue themselves about what exactly was going on with me. Moreover, this circle of “insiders” comprises very serious and positive figures, with sharp critical thinking and judgment, predisposed to being sceptical, who like to take their time and weigh everything carefully. These very down-to-earth people believed that it would not take long for Jaeger and the others to find out where their assessment of my situation had gone wrong.
There was even one person who had only been present at a couple of the discussions and who argued that my accent had nothing to do with an accent of a dead language, as Jaeger supports. In this man’s opinion, it was the result of a post traumatic shock combined with the severe cranial-cerebral trauma that Northam had suffered and had nothing to do with “ancient German-speaking Swiss.”