329 Years Awake

by Ellie Maloney

  The camp was a dreary place. These women created a vastly different social order compared to the one Leo saw at home. To begin with, they did not wear any clothing. Young and old, they walked around shaking their parts and thinking nothing of it. They bathed together in lagoons with green water, sometimes hundreds at the same time, and mated together, also at times in groups. These women did not think highly about men nor had a need for them, except for the time when the Unkari decided that it was time to procreate. Thankfully after a month or so, Jeroen had appeared and the Unkari had placed the boys in a separate cell. When Leo had told how he spent his time before Jeroen’s arrival, he often cringed describing women in the reservation. To Leo, they were the real aliens.

  Jeroen however, was enthralled by these stories and asked Leo to tell them over and over again, often exclaiming that he surely wished to take Leo’s place. “You don’t know what you are talking about, my friend. Those women were… like animals. They know no shame. They do things to each other that scarred my mind. I cannot unsee those things, and you wish you were there!”

  “Sure! I’d know what to expect from marriage. You surely thought of marriage, haven’t you, Leo?”

  “Hardly. And now that there is no mystery left for me about these women, I doubt I want to.”

  “But you lust for them, don’t you?”

  “Maybe… a little…” lied Leo, when in fact intimacy with a woman petrified him. Now, someone like Jeroen, thought Leo… and immediately chastised himself for even thinking about it. Back home people were put to death for such things. The Unkari made it clear that when they had learned everything they needed to know, they would be returned home. Unlike the humans born on Lenauri, boys and girls like Jeroen and himself were to return home and contribute to a better ‘recipe of humanity’.

  YEAR 1479.

  S-HERTOGENBOSCH CITY, NETHERLANDS

  Twenty-nine-year-old Jeroen was getting married. Aleyt was a noble lady, albeit older, and she treated Jeroen with understanding and respect. Nonetheless, he did not know how to tell her his secret. As a child, Jeroen disappeared and had no memory of two whole years of his life. One morning he was walking to his grandma through the wheat field. It was about to rain. And then - blank. Two years later, he found himself in the same wheat field, but without his canvas bag, where he had his grandpa’s gift - an expensive leather-bound vellum notebook. At first, Jeroen thought that he had fallen asleep and someone had robbed him. Dreading to tell the truth to mom, he headed back home, to S-Hertogenbosch. The minute he entered the city, he noticed that people looked at him as if he was a ghost. They just stopped and stared at the boy.

  When Jeroen entered his house, mom was near the oven taking out freshly baked bread. Jeroen called her. Mom jumped and lost her footing, dropped the bread to the floor and it rolled towards Jeroen’s feet. Frightened, mother stared at the boy with tears in her eyes for a very long time, and Jeroen had no idea what to do. Finally, mom said: “You’ve grown, son…”

  Later, he found out that the whole village had considered Jeroen dead for two years. When he did not return home, a search team scouted the route he was supposed to take and found someone’s fresh bones in the wood, eaten by a wolf. It was decided that the corpse belonged to Jeroen. Upon his return, Jeroen had changed. The missing memory tormented him. Sometimes he could catch a glimpse of memories that looked like visions from hell: tormented people, sinful orgies, strange scenes as if born in a feverish mind. These memories frightened him. For a while he thought he was going mad.

  There was something else besides fear. Shame. Shame was ripping his chest apart because of the fragments of the memories about one boy. He did not know who the boy was, or if he was even real, but he had felt that the boy was dear to him. And there was something else. A kiss. A passionate kiss. This boy grabbed Jeroen by the hand, pulled him close and kissed. Jeroen felt betrayed, confused, scared, embarrassed, and lost. Utterly lost. Was there something that he did to invite that kiss? Was that kiss welcome? He could not remember anything.

  Years passed, and Jeroen taught himself to forget. He put up a wall in his mind. The only thing that helped him to stay sane was painting. Granted, he couldn’t paint everything he saw in his mind, but the mere act of painting was soothing. Because of this secret, Jeroen waited for so long to get married. Most of all, he wanted to make sure that he could remain sane and would not condemn a poor woman to life with a mad man. Years passed, and he learned to cope. Yes, it was denial, yes, it was a half-measure, but it worked. Today, finally, he had a chance for a normal life of a married man. Aleyt was older and wiser. She had a calm and reassuring presence about her that kept Jeroen anchored to reality. There was nothing strange or otherworldly about her. She wasn’t a beauty or any remarkable talent. She was as plain as bread. But bread meant sustenance. For Jeroen, this was more than he ever hoped for.

  YEAR 1517.

  MILANO. LEONARDO DA VINCI’S STUDIO

  Leonardo sat at his private dining hall expecting his favorite apprentice Francesco Melzi for a dinner. At the table, he had bread baked without eggs, stewed roots and leaves without meat, and a jar of wine. He poured two glasses when Melzi walked in. The student walked close to the master and gently hugged him, planting a friendly kiss on his cheek. “Greetings, master! Thank you for the invitation. If you forgive me, I will only have wine with you tonight. My stomach is uneasy.” Leonardo pointed his friend to the chair at the table.

  “Francesco, you are dear to me like a son that I never had. Why do you think I say this?”

  “Mmm, because you cherish our friendship, master?”

  “Wrong! You don’t have to lie to me about your weak stomach in order to avoid my diet.”

  The teacher was shrewd. Francesco laughed heartily. “Ah, Leonardo, nothing escapes you. You are like a father to me. And you are my dearest friend. But this obsession of yours with not eating meat has made you not the most welcome dinner host. I never asked you, but now is a good time for you to tell me what is it about!”

  “Ah, I don’t know. I have memories, maybe dreams, of some strange animals slicing humans… It is rather strange, I know. But these images are so vivid. It made me think that animal flesh and human flesh are much the same. I cannot cause death on a living thing, even if it is a chicken.”

  “What about eggs?”

  “They are the seed of life, you know. Same thing. Like eating unborn babies.”

  Francesco’s stomach flipped and he swallowed a gulp of wine to chase away the taste of gall in his mouth after hearing Leonardo’s grotesque explanation. “There are many things that I revere you for. This rebellion against meat of yours, master, is not one of them.”

  It was Leonardo’s time to laugh. “What can I say! I hold respect for your ideas and your individuality above my eating habits. Let’s drink then! Thank God for grapes!”

  “Praise the Lord! To you, my teacher!” exclaimed Francesco and drank a few long gulps at once. “So what is it, my teacher, that you needed to tell me so urgently?”

  “Francesco, I am old, and Lord only knows how long will I live. I need you to be the executor of my will.”

  “That’s a great honor, Leonardo. However, why me?”

  “Who do you suppose it should be? Salai?”

  Francesco did not bite. Salai was a sensitive subject. Although teacher loved him, this man was nicknamed “the unclean one” for a reason. Even though Leonardo did not hold Salai with the bonds of faithfulness, Francesco always thought that this talentless impostor of an apprentice could be more discrete. Salai spent Leonardo’s money, brought in his “boys,” and trashed the guest quarters in loud orgies. And then he would blink his eyes and offer to pose naked for Leonardo’s next masterpiece. It was all it took to soften the poor old dupe’s heart. “Come on, Francesco!” insisted Leonardo. “I already told you, be honest with me. Do you think I can trust Salai with my will?”


  “I’d advise you to be cautious with him in such matters.”

  “Cautious. Is that what you call it? We both know that the day my soul departs, he will sell everything on the nearest street corner and spend half of the money on wine and another half on the prostitutes. When this headache passes, he will live the rest of his life homeless, or may even be thrown in jail for sodomy. We both know, Salai is not equipped to live in this world on his own.”

  “Perhaps you are wise about it, teacher.” “How is he by the way? I am not on speaking terms with him since his last orgy.”

  “I stopped by his room on the way here. He asked me for money. I did not give him anything. I thought he could benefit from a day of sobriety. Especially since he was painting.”

  “Oh, was he? What was he painting?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, it was… ”

  “Stop lying, Francesco! ”

  “Alright, alright! Mona Lisa! There. I said it. He was painting Mona Lisa.”

  “My Mona Lisa?”

  “In a sense,” hesitated Francesco. “I believe it will come out differently.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, he was naked. He had a mirror in front of him. And was painting himself in front of the mirror… wearing a heap of horse’s hair on his head.”

  Leonardo stared at Francesco for a second, trying to imagine this sight and then burst out laughing. “Perhaps I should give him a visit after we are done. This sounds entertaining. Speaking of the business, like I said, I have nobody else I can trust with my will. So you might as well accept this. I made some notes.“ With these words, Leonardo reached out to the shelf and picked a few sheets of parchment carefully filled with neat writing. “Study these notes and let me know if you have questions. However, there are some items I need to show you now.”

  Francesco reached out and picked up the handwritten will, immediately sinking his eyes into the text. “Go to page two. Paragraph 46,” instructed Leonardo.

  “The Mystery of My Soul? What is it, teacher?”

  “Let me show you. Follow me.” The two walked to the back of the room. There, on a work station, a few items were arranged for Francesco’s inspection. Leonardo picked up a leather-bound vellum book. “Open it.” Francesco obeyed. It was filled with handwriting in a code, and some illustrations of herbs and other strange things that Francesco decided to study later.

  “Interesting. Do I need a cypher, teacher?”

  “I don’t have it.”

  “You mean you did not write this?”

  “If I did, I have no memory of it. Many years ago, when I was a boy, I was lost. I probably injured myself, because I have no memory what I was doing for two years, until someone found me sleeping on the street. I woke up, and just like that, I had no memory of the entire two years of my life. I had a canvas bag with me. There, I had this book and some writing supplies. That’s all I know.”

  “Did you try to break the code?”

  “What do you think? It was a work of my entire life. I failed. Now it is your task. However, since I have no idea what mysteries this book holds, you must be careful, my friend. Whatever you find out must become your own secret, because I have no idea what you may find out about the two missing years of my life.”

  YEAR 1582.

  ITALY

  Edward Kelly arrived in Italy in pursuit of an upcoming auction. The rumor had it, some items from Leonardo da Vinci himself were for sale. Of course, he couldn’t be sure, but the fact that the auction was held by the descendants of Francesco Melzi, an executor of da Vinci’s estate, was a good sign. Melzi was a great artist in his own right, but he was no genius. Kelly was not interested in another painting on a religious subject. He was after big fish. During the pre-auction reception, Kelly was able to talk to Melzi’s grand-daughter, the charming Maria. She was charming and the two continued the conversation in the barn. During that passionate conversation, Kelly was told that there was a particular book they auctioned that could be either a goldmine or worthless. The family sold it as writing of da Vinci’s student, nicknamed Salai. The book was written in a code and supposedly had recipes for male vigor, as was backed by the illustrations of herbs and naked women, whom Salai supposedly was close to.

  Secretly Maria told Kelly that the book was probably worthless. For years, her family spent money on decoding it. The best experts agreed that the book must contain gibberish of a drunkard. When Kelly was through with Maria, he proceeded to find her father to bargain suggesting that if he wouldn’t sell the book at lower price, he would make their suspicions public, and thus the book would be worthless. The Mezli family could not figure out why Kelly needed the book if he knew it was worthless, but decided to cut their losses and sold it. Several months later, the con artist Edward Kelly wrote a letter to John Dee, a man who had an access to the court of the Bohemian Emperor Rudolph II. Rudolph was known for throwing loads of money on purchasing various alchemic and occult artefacts. Rudolph was particularly keen on buying medical books, as he suffered from many ailments, the majority of which, Kelly suspected, were the result of Rudolph’s own overactive imagination.

  The letter stated:

  Dear Sir John Dee,

  I am writing to you in hope to find you in good health and that we can share my recent discovery. A manuscript came into my possession. It belonged to the great Roger Bacon himself. Sir Bacon wrote unspeakable medical secrets in the diary, and in order to protect the secrets, he encrypted the writing with a code. Angels spoke to me one day and taught me the cypher that Bacon used. Angels believe that this knowledge belongs to people. I believe that the knowledge belongs to people as well. But we cannot allow it to fall into the wrong hands. The more I reasoned about who would be worthy of the incredible privilege to possess such a powerful knowledge, I realized that it must be his majesty the Bohemian Emperor Rudolph II. For a reasonable fee, I can serve the Emperor as an interpreter, and we both can partake in the glory of being a part of such a great discovery.

  Dearly yours,

  Sir Edward Kelly of England

  The rest was history. Kelly sold the manuscript to Rudolph for a hefty sum. After his death, the Emperor left sizable debts. Among the creditors was the Emperor’s pharmacist Jakobus Sinapius from Tepenec. Many of Rudolph’s creditors received their payment with items from his extensive eclectic collection, and Jakobus inherited the manuscript, which they all believed to be written by Roger Bacon, a fact that they could not contest due to the lack of modern research means. Bacon could not have written the manuscript, because spectroscopy and carbon dating analysis lands it in the middle of fifteenth century, and Bacon lived two centuries prior to when the manuscript was written. Jacobus, like many others before and after him, was hoping to decode the manuscript and learn its medical secrets. Thus he signed the book: “Jacobus Hořčický de Tepenec,” a signature he placed on every book in his library. Unsurprisingly, Jakobus did not succeed in decoding the manuscript. He further sold it cash, until it ended up in possession of Italian monks from Villa Mondragone, where it was eventually discovered by Wilfrid Voynich.

  YEAR 2274.

  FOURTH ORBITAL

  Tears rolled down Anika’s cheeks as she was packing for a one-way trip. The humiliation of her doctorate thesis being rejected broke her young spirit. Nothing was dear to her on the Fourth Orbital any more. Once she became a laughing stock in the scientific community, the only place she could go now was the Earth. Immediately after the rejection, she applied for a job as a cryptologist for the Earth Nations military and was assigned to Rabat, the headquarters of the Royal Moroccan Fleet. The door monitor buzzed. “Anika, it’s me,” she heard the familiar Broner’s voice. “You can’t leave just like that.”

  “And why is that?” replied Anika through tears but did not open the door.

  “Many reasons!”

  “Name one.”

  There was a sil
ence behind the door. “Your career!” said desperate Broner, although that was the last reason on his mind.

  “That is the wrong reason, Broner.”

  “Let me in, and I will give you another one…”

  “This is precisely why I will not let you in. I don’t need a reason to stay. Good bye, Broner. I hope you find what you are looking for.”

  “What if I already found it?”

  “In that case, you just lost it,” said Anika and set the door monitor on “do not disturb.”

  YEAR 2275.

  RABAT. ROYAL MOROCCAN FLEET HEADQUARTERS

  Anika rushed down the long corridor crowded with military staff. Everyone was in a hurry these days. Since the Unkari had made First Contact, the world had changed. Humans definitively realized that they were not alone in the universe, something they had suspected for a long time, but had never had a chance to prove. It was unclear if these aliens were friends or enemies. Everything about the First Contact was ambiguous. First, the location they chose: the Liberian coast. Why not arrive from space? And how did they manage to sneak into the ocean, bypassing the orbital surveillance grid? The unspoken fear was that they actually had been in the ocean for a long time, probably before the orbital surveillance grid was operational.