Transients

by Brayan Branko Bubalo

  “But, how and when exactly did you get here?” Professor asked.

  “Third day after the first eruption, I realized that if we stayed in Kroywen, we would likely have died. I thought if our lives were going to end, we could at least be closer to home. I don’t know, maybe subconsciously even then, I was thinking about this place. Ammabussa disappeared from the face of the Earth, along with everyone else, leaving all the anarchy behind. Nobody asked me to continue with what I was doing at the Institute, and besides, all of a sudden, everybody else disappeared. It was then I made the decision to leave. I took my Olga to a small airport and hijacked a five seat Cessna. No one was there to stop us, anyway. We flew to Louisburg. We were lucky to almost immediately stumble upon Major Jeff Prickly, an old childhood friend of mine. He was a member of the National Guard and, with the absence of any other significant law enforcement presence, he organized a militia, consisting mostly of his fellow reservists, trying to keep order, but mostly fighting Pongos. Then I remembered this place and, in a fluke, I suggested to him we could all come here. He never heard of the place, but after I described it to him and the second eruption happened, when everything turned into total disarray and chaos, when the blackout was total, he agreed. There were about two hundred of us altogether; about a hundred and twenty or so capable combat men, under his command, and their families… We lost him, almost immediately upon arrival, in battle with Pongos…”

  “In that building over there,” he pointed to a long plastic dome–shaped structure, “we grow pumpkins and watermelons. Watermelons for us—we even make brandy from them—and pumpkins for the pigs and other animals—to provide them with vitamins.”

  Then Nemyrof drove the van up a narrow road to the top of the hill. The road and sidewalks were clean and dry, due to underground heating. Once they reached a fair altitude, they were able to see almost the entire valley, a few miles wide, surrounded by high hills, concealed in a dense, but mostly dead pine and oak tree forest, covered in gray snow. They could see mansions and many dome shaped structures, made of translucent plastic panels, allocated on spacious lots, between houses and common buildings. Visibility was good under the pale daylight, cast with weak shadows. Nemyrof drove slowly, to give them time to enjoy the panorama. He stopped just below the summit, in front of a small concrete building that was the above ground entrance to an enormous underground water basin. Inside, they could see columns of enormous water pumps. It was dead silent and Nemyrof explained the pumps were in use only at night–time. There was a man sitting inside, behind a poorly lit worktable, playing solitaire.

  “Everything ok, Randy?” Nemyrof greeted him, and the man just showed his thumbs up. “Here we pump–up the water, during the night hours,” he continued, impersonating a tour–guide, “from a similar basin at the bottom of this hill, where the turbines are. So we can never run out of power. We have a smaller, back–up system, in case of damage or havoc or if we need to do maintenance and repairs.” Nemyrof was beaming with pride.

  Impressive as it all looked, Presley could not push away the feeling that something was amiss in this paradise. He couldn’t get a grasp of what it was, but the feeling was strong. He kept it to himself, pretending he was intrigued and impressed, but was anxious to share a moment alone with Professor, and hear what he had to say. Then it hit him. The thing that bothered him was the sterile atmosphere of this place, the artificiality of it, and its aloofness. He could not help but compare what he saw in his group of warm–hearted, compassionate friends that shared everything, to Nemyrof’s commune divided into units of workers, lured in by the promise of safety and comfort, who did not share anything, but only contributed their work hours in this false surrogate of life. He liked his way more. But he wondered what Professor thought. And he feared that he may like it, even though he could not read anything from his face. This was his old friend’s doing, after all, someone he obviously regarded highly and was fond of. No, he thought, he does not like it either. How could he?

  Their tour was over and Nemyrof drove them back to the house. Professor excused himself, told Nemyrof he needed to talk to some of the people from his group, to find out how everyone was doing and asked Presley to join him.

  Presley remembered his conversation with Hope, the first morning upon their arrival. She was surprised with his statement, after she asked him what he thought they should do next.

  “I don’ know… hang in here for a while… recuperate… see how long they will let us stay. Then, we take off, and continue our journey.”

  “You think they will ask us to leave?”

  “Hard to say… they might, or they won’t. We’ll see. But I think we should leave, at some point, no matter what they say.”

  “Why?”

  He was truly taken aback by her position, and was surprised by the fact that she was considering the possibility of staying here, for good. Then, when he thought about it, he realized his reasoning was even stranger. Thinking about leaving this place, even if they were offered to stay, was actually bizarre, even absurd. Or was it? He realized he was not able to rationalize his thoughts. But that was a few days ago, and he was not in doubt any more. Now, he was sure they should leave. He needed to talk to Professor, to see what his opinion was on the matter. Presley was a man of instincts, rather than reason. He relied on his intuition, which so far served him quite well, and in this case, told him they should continue their voyage and see it to its projected end. Over time, the grand idea of creating a better, more just and humane society grew on him, and, what was more important, with time; he became confident that here such an idea was impossible. He lost all his reservations and doubts, and became a true champion of it. It became his only cause. The idea of starting anew, of creating a brand new society; the idea of bringing their children to some lonely, isolated, hidden place and creating a different, better, truer humanity, or at least, not what it was before or even something similar to this, Nemyrof’s place… That was what ideas do to you, he thought, once you got one there was no turning back; you start to live and breathe by it. Homo emphaticus!

  “So, what do you think?” Professor beat him to it, once they were alone. They walked toward the hotel, where most of their people were lodging.

  “Well, I was just about to ask you the same. What do you think?”

  “Impressive! Very impressive,” Professor said enthusiastically. “Victor did really a marvellous job. Knowing him, I am not surprised; not surprised at all.”

  Presley did not realize Professor’s derision, and he almost protested. But then he saw his wry smile. “It may not look like it to you, but I also talked to some of our people and saw for myself the odd ways of this place. What can I tell you? This is impressive, truly. You have to admit it. But he has no finesse. He has a brain of an engineer. They got here not much after all the turmoil started, so it’s almost business as usual for them. They simply continued to live in their old ways, carried over from the New Order. That’s why everything here, even though perfect, looks so superficial to you.”

  “It suffocates me, to be exact,” Presley said. “What do you think we should do?”

  “Leave. I think we should leave. And the sooner, the better! Accessibility to all these perks and goodies, and the illusion of safety this place gives, may lure some of our folks. The longer we stay, we take the risk of more of our people losing their motivation to move on.”

  “My point exactly,” Presley agreed, with great relief.

  “Yet, maybe we should think it over a little. See if we are over–idealizing our own affair. Maybe we should wage what we might gain or lose if we join with these folks. Maybe this is the place where we could build our new humanity. Maybe there is no need to go any farther. After all, Victor built a good foundation here. Maybe our concerns about constant confrontations with the others are exaggerated, after all. On our way here, for days and days, we met no one. Maybe really there is no one else left. Maybe it will be safe here.”

  “Too many maybes, Profess
or. And even if all of that really is truth, I don’t like it here. And to be honest, I don’t like our Nemyrof character. I think he is a masked despot. I think we would have a disagreement with him very fast. And I’d rather avoid that.”

  “Yes, yes… You may be right… you may be right… But what if, my dear friend - what if…”

  “We have a goal, and a purpose… and we will create the opportunity even if one is not there. That is who we are. And, since when do I have to sell the idea to you with your own pitch?”

  They talked, weighed their alternatives, trying to figure out how many more months, how much more effort, how many more unforeseen dangers they still faced ahead. Would they survive it all, and would it be wise to expose their people to more suffering, until they reached their destination. The biggest question left lingering was would their struggle be crowned with a proper reward? Would everything be really as Professor prophesied? At the end, they agreed they should leave soon, but the decision about it must be made collectively.

  Chapter XIII

  A few days later Presley and Professor Tagore assembled a meeting in the large gymnasium dome. Their entire commune, to the smallest child, was in attendance. As agreed with Nemyrof, none of his men were present. They wanted to talk to their people in private. They needed to come clean with them and see if the rest would agree to depart. They both dreaded the conversation, for they were uncertain of what the reaction of their congregation would be.

  Presley was not convinced that their party would concur with their decision. He asked Professor what he though, seeking his assurance while people gathered on the basketball court.

  “I don’t know,” Professor muttered with a good measure of frustration. “We ought to talk to them, tell them what we think, and help them decide.”

  ‘Help them’, Presley noticed Tagore’s careful choice of words—not ‘let them’.

  Presley came to the meeting with great uneasiness. He was not sure what reaction their proposal would provoke. He searched for words to begin with. Every eye was on him and he sensed they already knew what was coming, what he was going so say. But he could not read their thoughts.

  “Friends, in a couple more days we will continue our journey. We had enough time to recuperate and gain strength and, after a long talk, Professor and I believe it’s for the best if we leave. This is not the end of the road for us. We must carry on. We hope that all of you will agree with us.”

  The room was silent for a moment. Then a hushed murmur started to awaken all around, followed by a loud discussion.

  “Do our hosts want us to leave?” someone asked.

  “No. They would like us to stay,” Professor said.

  “Why should we think about leaving then?”

  “Maybe we should stay. What is wrong with that?”

  “This is a good place to be.”

  “Yeah, it could hardly get better than this.”

  “Here we have everything we need. How is it better to go anywhere”?

  “Let us stay!”

  “This place is not safe!” Professor shouted, with unusual strength in his voice, and with grave expression on his face. “Don’t be fooled with what you see at this moment! Did you already forget how we got here? First, they wanted us to leave, threatening to shoot if we disobeyed their order to turn around and scramble! It was just a happy coincidence that I knew who might be behind all this. What if I was wrong? Then we would be forced to back up or fight. What does it mean? It may look safe at the moment, but this place will always be exposed to coercion, and sooner or later, once the Sun shines again, and it gets warmer, others will learn about this enclave. And not all of those who come next will be friendly. Many will try to take it over, to rob it or to ask for an asylum. We were friendly and we found friends. But the next passers–by may be of different persuasion. It means there will always be trouble, and whoever sits here will have to fight and struggle. Do you want to live your lives in constant fear? We think the place we have in mind and are taking you to will be much safer. No one will bother us there. No one will be able to come and trouble us. And only then will we be free.”

  “How much further is this place you speak of Professor, and why don’t you tell us where it is?”

  “We are not that far but we have to press on. We haven’t much time. And you have to trust us, like you trusted us until now. That is all. We will not force any of you, but whoever thinks differently must decide right now. It will be your decision. So, those who are with us, step forward!”

  Once more, there was grave silence under the dome. For one long moment nobody moved or said anything. Mike was the first to step forward, followed by a few of Presley’s old friends, along with several women and their adopted children. Hope took her place next to Presley along with Leo and Mary. A few others did the same. The rest of the party did not move. For the first time there was division amongst them. And, for the first time it seemed, Presley and Professor Tagore were in minority. Then, old man Welsh stepped forward, stopping in the middle of the two groups, faced Tagore and then turned around. His expression was solemn. He took a long gaze over the silent congregation.

  “I am an old man. I am tired. I wish to rest my old bones. And I enjoy being here. It’s nice here… Warm rooms, soft beds; clean running water, hot baths, electricity… And fresh food! Who would want more? … It seems unwise to urge the pregnant women and those with babies under their breasts to leave a place of such safety and comfort, unwise and simply ungrateful to our kind hosts… And to go out, to face the unknown… to suffer again in the cold and dark, to sleep out in the open, under the rain and snow, to fear who we may meet…”

  The old man paused, taking them all in his gaze. His words echoed throughout the chamber. Even though he could not disagree with anything the old man said, Presley felt betrayed.

  “Yet, I agree with Professor—this place is not safe! There will be trouble here, I fear. And I do not wish to wait until his or my fears are proven to be true. This is not what I envisioned two months ago, when we left our caves. And, these people are a bit too unapproachable and odd for my being in their debt. Therefore, I will join Professor and our captain Presley, and all those who wish to continue. I want to see the shining sea and I sure hope that all of my people will come with me. I urge everyone else to choose the same.”

  His grandson jumped forward, hand in hand with Mrs. Catchinsky’s daughter. All the youngsters from Mr. Walsh’s band followed. Seeing her daughter parting from her, for the love of a boy, Mrs. Catchinsky, with astonishment and desperation in her eyes, took the hands of her sons and crossed the room.

  “C’mon people!” spoke Presley for the first time since the beginning of the meeting. “Have we ever wronged or misled you?”

  Slowly, and hesitantly, more and more people stepped toward him and, shortly after, the rest of the gathering joined them with cheerful cry. Everyone laughed and hugged. The meeting was over. The decision was made. Their unity remained intact.

  “What are you going to say to Mr. Nemyrof?” asked Presley, on their way back to Nemyrof’s house.

  “Well, after this it will be easy.”

  “I suspect he will protest.”

  “Probably.”

  ***

  “Ok. If that is what y’all wish,” Nemyrof said calmly, after they revealed their decision to him that night after supper. His indifference surprised them. The two of them looked at him confused, almost hurt that he showed no objection.

  “What do you mean, you want to leave,” Nemyrof roared, pounding the table with his large hand, shocking them even more. “Are you all crazy? And, where do you think you’d be going?”

  “Our destination is further south,” Professor said vaguely, after a moment of calculated hesitation.

  “Our destination is further south,” Nemyrof mocked Tagore’s soft voice and accent. “No, no! I will not allow it! You are going to stay here, with us. And stay for good. There is no reason for you to leave or to feel unwelcome. The
re is enough room, enough food and enough work for all of you and for many more. I will not hear about it.”

  “No, my friend,” Professor said gently. “I think you’ll find but a few, if any, among our crowd who would give up our quest, even for the comfort and safety of this colony. We are extremely grateful to you for everything, but we need to reach our final destination and build our lives there.”

  “But, I don’t understand,” Nemyrof exclaimed. “I thought we should join our efforts and our strengths; that you will stay here with us. Why would you do such a foolish thing and leave? Who knows what dangers you may face out there. I urge you all to stay.”

  “I urge you to think about the danger you may face here once the weather improves; when it gets warmer and dryer, and easier to move around, and when your resort starts to attract other survivors that you may not be so fond of. Those who decide you and your people don’t deserve to enjoy all of this, while they suffer from hunger and hardships; those who won’t want to unite with you, but take over. You may defeat them at the beginning, but they will come again and again, until they multiply and until you get tired of fighting or lose too many of your men.”