“Good morning,” they greeted back.
“Come, come, sit with us,” Olga called. “We’re just about to finish our breakfast. I’ll bring some more. Care for a cup of tea? What about the kids, they are still asleep?”
“They are,” Hope affirmed.
“I’ll go get them later,” Olga said. Then she introduced Hope and Victor to each other and they shook hands. Nemyrof smiled and could not restrain himself, charmer that he was, complimenting Hope on her beauty.
“I see you’re feeling much better today, Mr. Nemyrof,” Presley said.
“Why, yes. Isn’t it something? Ever since your arrival I have been gaining strength. I guess it gave me a reason to convalesce. And, the fact that amongst you all is this old goat! He came to me, literally, from the dead, for I thought he was long gone. When I saw him alive, I thought: wait a minute, if he’s alive, how can I die? It wouldn’t be right. I just couldn’t bear the possibility that this old Bengal Brahman would outlast me, if even for a day. Actually, I feel tremendously alive, like I haven’t felt in ages.”
“Well, well… you were not that sick,” Professor said, with a boyish smile on his lips. “It was all in your mind, you see. You needed a boost of healthy rivalry. You were worn out with all this lavishness. I would die if I had to live this comfortably just for a month. You should consider coming with us, once we get ready to leave this nest. We are living at such an exciting pace we have no time to die.”
Victor laughed loudly, patting Professor’s hand. He was a short stocky man, with wide shoulders, short neck and a big head, his face hidden behind a bushy, black beard and moustaches, and only his big, blue, intelligent eyes made his face pleasant to look at.
His wife sat next to him, content and calm, with a slight smile on her lips, and a happy expression across her face; obviously taken by her husband’s sudden recovery. Only now, Presley noticed how slight and delicate she was. She looked at Professor intently and with sudden seriousness, and her face reflected both pain and anticipation.
Slowly, they continued their conversation. Presley asked how they knew each other and the three of them took turns, reminiscing about old times spent in different departments attached to the Government’s Ministry of Science. They remembered the seminars and symposiums they attended, committees they participated in, old friends and colleagues they knew, and how their friendship grew stronger once they realized they shared the same opinion about the way the Government conducted its operations—essentially betraying humanity. They remembered how their initially small group of passive rebels grew to a significant conspiracy against Ammabussa and his followers, eventually forming a network around the entire globe. They talked about the actions they planned to undertake and how all of that abruptly came to an end with the eruptions, causing them to lose contact immediately after.
“Do you know if any of our old friends and colleagues are still alive?” Professor asked.
“I don’t know… I know that John McIntyre may be somewhere in Kroywen, but the rest of them… I’m not sure. Until I saw you yesterday, I was convinced all of you were dead, but now I’m not so certain… Now, I have a renewed hope that it may be possible more of us survived. I am beginning to believe that perhaps even all of us may be alive, that this is not an exception, but a rule. We were, after all, a special bunch of people, with a special set of skills and capabilities. And most importantly, we had the advantage of using our knowledge and privilege of being close to the Government and the very source of information we could use to our advantage and for the benefit of humanity. It may be possible, I can see that now, that many of us made it, with a little bit of wisdom and luck to become part of some group of tough but decent survivors, like yours or mine. They could be out there, all around the continent, and all around the world. It’s almost like some law of metaphysics that proves the equilibrium between good and evil. Who knows…”
“Do you think the entire planet is enveloped in this layer of ash in the stratosphere?” asked Presley.
“Only the northern hemisphere is entirely hidden from the Sun, I gather. I believe that, by now, most of the South is much clearer. But even there, there aren’t many survivors. That is your real question, isn’t it? The majority of Earth’s population perished either by wars, or famine, or plaques, or pollution, or by the misery of it all. Only a few survived, I am certain.”
“What about Ammabussa?”
“Oh, he’s well and alive. Running his little kingdom down in Egypt, pretending he is Ramses the Fourth, descendant of Ra, in the midst of the pyramids. They were restored to their former glory, did you know, they even fixed Sphinx’s nose. I know it for certain. Who knows, perhaps they finally deciphered their true purpose. But he is there, amongst his faithful followers, servants and soldiers."
“Do you think that he has any concern over people like us,” Hope asked.
“I don’t think so. Not at the moment, at least. Even if he wanted to know what is going on, he has no means of finding out. All communications are down. There’s no intercontinental communication grid. On this side of the Atlantic, he may have some goons that survived, but most of them are dead by now, and he has no way of communicating with those who potentially made it. Once the ash in the stratosphere grows thin, he may reboot some of the satellites in the orbit and activate the fleet of drones, to survey the rest of the world. And when he finds that all that is left has been set back to the Stone Age, he will not bother to take any action, except to watch those he finds as an amusement, like he’s observing a colony of ants.”
“Yes, but we’re not back in Stone Age. At least your commune seems to be doing quite well. You preserved almost everything,” said Professor.
“Well, I thought about it, and I did not reach any ultimate conclusion, nor did I come up with any course of action we could undertake, should they threaten us. We have no means of fighting them. But I believe that, for a long while at least, they have no means of hurting us either. Even for them, this Planet suddenly grew too big, almost as big as in the era of Columbus. It would take many years before they find us, even if they decided to look really hard. After all, they have no motive. We are in no position of harming them. They are too far from here and it will take many decades, even centuries, until we begin to look like a civilization capable of crossing the ocean. On the other hand, who knows what else is around us, how many and what kind of people survived all of this; if they will organize and decide to live peacefully, to cooperate with each other; or if they will continue with the notion that it’s easier to take what is not theirs, to exploit the efforts of others, to hurt their fellow men, to rob, rape and kill. So, for the time being, Ammabussa may be able to just observe and be amused. And even if all of those who survived decided to create a different society, more humane, peaceful, enlightened… it will take many years until we gather the strength and technological advancement to conquer the ocean. If you ask me, even though I am a man of technology, I would prefer to stay low tech for as long as possible…”
“I am glad to hear that. Look where technology brought us,” Professor mused.
“Yeah. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, as they say. Our civilization took a wrong turn thousands of years ago… And, what do you think, Mr. Presley?” asked Nemyrof.
“I don’t know, sir,” Presley said, honestly. “I have a soldier’s brain. And I know very little about what Ammabussa could or couldn’t do. Assuming they preserved the capability to use satellites and operate drones, they could do whatever they want, and there is nothing we could do to deter them.”
“Well,” Professor said, “I am not sold on the assertion that Ammabussa poses a threat to anyone. I am almost certain none of it will or could happen. First, you would probably agree with my estimation that all but point two to point five percent of world’s population survived the last five years, say, maybe a hundred to two hundred million. Basically, mankind is almost extinct, scattered around the globe, technologically, economically and c
ulturally devastated. I have no doubt that there are vast areas on the planet with no humans at all. Many places are probably uninhabitable and, due to radiation, and other reasons, will remain like that for a long time. So, Ammabussa is one lonely survivor, just like all the rest of us. He is surrounded by perhaps ten thousand or so people, an assemblage consisting of his closest relatives, corrupted scientists, artists, and political allies, and members of the world’s elite class who abused the position of power and wealth, gathered in his New Memphis or whatever he calls that city. Then he has a suitable number of soldiers and police officers and maybe another ten thousand workers, to serve his caste of immortals. My point is he’s in no position to roam around attacking people. And I am sure he has no plans on letting his commons grow in numbers for the fear of rebellion. He will create a caste of tamed, obedient and semi–intelligent worker–bees, carefully conditioned to meet the queen’s requirements. And he will keep their numbers at bay something like in the Brave New World. His caste of soldiers and policemen will certainly also be divided into different levels of subordination and privilege, so they can be controlled by carrot and stick. Their sole purpose will be, on one hand, internal policing and, on the other, protection from the outside, for we have to assume there are some survivors in Europe, Asia minor, Near and Middle East and Africa, and for at least a century those were wild, turbulent parts, full of trouble. Now it must be even worse. He won’t have big ships because he has no one to sail them. And even if there were such vessels, he would destroy them. He may have some airplanes, but they also need fuel and trained pilots and, he will keep them grounded for an emergency, in case something goes wrong and he has to flee. Finally, the satellites. Most of them are out of service by now, or malfunctioned, due to displacement of the magnetic fields and shift of the Earth’s axel. And as for the drones, without satellites they are useless. Even if they were able to find a functional surveillance satellite, who and where would they run it from? They can’t send them from Africa across the ocean; their radius is much shorter than that. And I hardly believe he has anyone left on this side of the Atlantic. What would he need anyone here for? In the end, he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about us, or what’s left of the World. I don’t think he can or will cause us any trouble; at least not for a long while. We should concentrate on dangers and threats that are closer to home. Ammabussa is as far from us as if we were on a different planet.”
“Yes,” Nemyrof agreed.
“…Once, when the layer of ash reseeds from the sky…” Professor continued, “when the Sun shines again and trees start to grow. When all the roads, buildings and structures made by man disappear from the face of the Earth and everything become like it was thousands of years ago. It will be wonderful…”
“Amen to that. It means we have a whole lot to do. I can’t wait to start,” Victor chuckled.
Olga was silent for a long time and it looked like she was not even listening. She was looking at Professor Tagore. Something was on her mind, and she was waiting. Her gaze met Professor’s. There was a sudden grimace of pain on his face.
“Tell me, Sandy… All these days I was afraid to ask… but I have to know…”
“You want to know about Hema?” Professor asked.
“Yes! Tell me, please, what happened to her?”
Professor’s usual smile disappeared from his face and eyes. He sunk in his chair, but then straightened up.
“She died, Olga… I already told you that… She was killed by looters, not long after the big quake.” Professor fell silent for a while; obviously coping with the emotions those words caused him. “We were already back in Kroynorth,” he continued. “The eruptions and the quakes came just after our plane landed, causing the panic and the mayhem. Due to bad timing of our arrival we couldn’t go far from the airport. No one knew about us coming and I couldn’t find any of our friends or relatives. We had to run away from the rioters. We hid in some apartment complex near the airport. We didn’t dare to go any farther, being cut–off from anyone who could help, or protect us. Totally alone. You remember how happy she was, how beautiful she looked in her pregnancy, so late in life… but under the circumstances, it was impossible to bring the baby to term. We were hungry and frightened and helpless; hiding from Pongos and villains, sleepless, exhausted… and one night, her water broke. It was in her fifth month, no way to do anything in such conditions. She couldn’t bear the loss of our baby. She was devastated, and there was nothing I could do to comfort her. She barely survived… She was very frail and almost lost the will to live. Not even for me. I tried, oh, how I tried… It was getting colder, and darker. We had to move, but I was not cut for that. And she was too weak… I opted to stay where we were; to wait. I would go out and find some food. Looting, like everyone else, in those days of total anarchy. One day, five men stumbled upon our hiding place. They wanted to rob us, and when they realized we had nothing of value, they decided to rape her. I was not able to prevent them from doing it. I’m no fighter. I begged them to let us be, I pleaded. They just laughed at my accent and raped her if front of my eyes. It was terrible. After the third man took his turn, Hema stopped begging, went totally silent and numb. Then she fingered his knife and plunged it in his back, wounding him badly. He screamed and jumped off her. The rest of them laughed. He took his pistol and shot her in the head, killing her. They laughed… All of it amused them… They let me live. They left me alive for my pain. I couldn’t fathom such cruelty. They were laughing, truly pleased. And then they left. I never saw them again and, once I came out from my numbness, I looked for them, hoping to find them, and kill them all. I can still remember their faces. It was a new emotion for me, something I thought I could never feel—the yearning to kill. And I’m sure I would have done it. It would have given me a satisfaction like nothing else, only if I got the chance. I would do it, or I would die trying. It is a scary thing, isn’t it; a man like myself thinking of murder…” He went silent, and no one said a word for a few, long minutes.
“Oh, Sandy, I am so sorry,” said Olga with tears in her eyes. Hope was crying too.
“Well that was almost two years ago. Over time I learned how to live with it.”
They were all silent for a while again. Presley was taken aback with this revelation. He never heard the story and, for the first time, he saw a different Professor Tagore, a man that was vulnerable and in pain, ready to share his sadness with others and be grateful when offered comfort. It was then Presley finally understood, fully, the passion and warmth Professor radiated every time they stumble upon a child, or a young, pregnant girl, and the joy he felt when those forsaken kids showed their uniqueness and strength. He wondered how many more secrets this man had.
“I think we should go and see how everyone is doing,” Professor said, shaking off his sadness.
“Yes. Let me offer you a tour,” Nemyrof said, a bit louder than necessary, trying to hide his emotions. “You should see what we have here. I think you will be amazed.”
“Are you sure, dear,” asked Olga with a concern in her voice. “Maybe you shouldn’t…”
“Nonsense, I am fine!” he acclaimed.
***
Nemyrof led them to the back of the mansion, into a large square yard that housed a big garage. He led them inside and showed them an eight–seat van. “It’s electric,” he said proudly, when he noticed their amazement. “We have a few of these, and a few others that run on methane. We use them inside the village only. Their radius is rather small and our sources are relatively limited. Still, makes things faster and easier, don’t you think?” He went on to explain that they also had horses and wagons for everyday use, and for scouting. “It took us a long time to do all of this,” he said, spreading his arms and making a full circle, before he sat behind the wheel. He took them to the hotel first, and they spent a short time among their people. Then they hit the road again. Nemyrof talked the entire time.
“The place was ravaged by Pongos,” he went on, “when we first came
. It was infested with them. Our men had a rough week before they were neutralized. We lost quite a few good men during that altercation. Once all the Pongos were dead, we found the owner of this resort, my old acquaintance, the one I dealt with way back when, maybe ten years ago, when he hired me to develop this place—Mr. Huckabee—in his mansion. His whole family was there. All dead, together with their servants and guards. Pongos killed them. I cannot fathom why he decided to stay. I thought he should be with Ammabussa. They were friends. Then again, Ammabussa had too many friends, and not all of them could go to Egypt. We buried our fallen friends, and the Huckabees, and we burned the Pongos. After that, we assessed the damage and went back and forth to the surrounding towns, to salvage whatever we needed for the repairs and modifications I anticipated. It was not an easy undertaking, considering the dangers we were exposed to. It was also around that time that days started to get darker and steadily colder, so we had to hurry. While I and a few other men worked on the repairs, others went around collecting anything useful: food, clothes and footwear; weaponry and ammunition found at a nearby military depot; tools, electrical and plumbing materials; animals—horses, pigs, cows, chicken–—and feed—hay, corn, ray, barley—found around surrounding farms. We also rescued quite a few people, mainly folks in their late twenties and beyond. At that time we still had a number of running trucks and enough fuel. You see: the idea was to create a self–sustained and self–sufficient refuge that could feed, accommodate and support as many people for as long as the winter lasted. It was like the first cell of a new organism. Once winter was gone, and the Sun returned, and vegetation started to grow, in a word, when life started over again, we would be ready to spread around, take in those who survived and are good, and start anew.
“What are you planning to do with those who aren’t?” Asked Professor, but Nemyrof ignored him, offering just a smile. Nemyrof gave them a tour through one of the greenhouses. It was warm and humid inside. Vegetable plants were growing in long wooden pots, suspended from the ceiling on steel ropes, illuminated with a series of yellow glowing light bulbs. There were a few people walking along the cascades, tending to the plants and harvesting fruits of tomatoes, cucumbers and beans. Nemyrof picked one big red succulent strawberry from the bottom bed and ate it, offering them to try. Then he took them to one of the barns, noisy with squeals of hogs and piglets, explaining to them the operation, showing them the nursery department, with a few pregnant pigs, small piglets in the adjacent cubicle, and compartments with pigs in different stages of growth. He showed them stalls with cows and horses, chicken coops, stressing that nothing was wasted, not even animal manure, but used as fertilizer for the gardens, or to make methane for their vehicles. As they visited the different compounds they met people that worked there. They all greeted them cheerfully. Because of Nemyrof, Presley thought. Nemyrof wanted to show them everything.
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