Shootik

by Aleksya Sokol

  The fiery sun inside us pushes us to go on and on in search of more enjoyment, and after each satisfaction, we become hungry for more. Without noticing it, we become slaves of our passions.

  Meanwhile, the outside temperature cools down; autumn and winter are on their way. Stormy winds start to blow. They seize our raft and send it down the river. Heavy rain starts falling inclemently upon our unprotected bodies. Summer is gone and we have lost the friendly protective little inlet in which time appeared to have stood still for us.

  Suddenly, we realise that we have no provisions with us, nor had we thought to build any kind of shelter on our raft. Too late now. The river, enriched by the rainwater, carries us onwards, sometimes through rapids and floods. We have no way of steering and are at the mercy of the elements. What we haven’t learned to control, controls us now.

  Finally, we are slowed down. The winds stop blowing, the rain turns into snow, the cold freezes the upper layer of the river to ice. We are stuck in it. The sun shines pale through the mist and fog…It is beautiful but unreachable, so it seems, giving us only little warmth. But it inspires us to reflection…

  If we are very careful, we may cross the ice to the riverbank. Yes, we can do this! Please river, stay frozen, we pray, so that we can get some food and clothes!

  Creeping over the ice, we reach the bank. There are people living there in huts. We recognise them, they are of the same kind as us, and the only difference is that they have never left the land, never adventured on any journey. They fished, yes, staying safely on the bank. They recognise us too as being of their sort, and the eldest couple lets us come into their hut. We are given clothes and food, and then we are severely reprimanded for what we have done.

  The river is treacherous, they say. Everything which flows is treacherous, they say. People have to have stable ground under their feet, they say, and to know exactly what is allowed and not allowed. So they say. And if one obeys this rule, one could live to be old. Very old, they say, and old they are indeed.

  Their children, quite old too, and their great-grandchildren, had been told the story of those few who disobeyed the rules and broke out of the community, to follow the river…Of course, they were regarded as the most unfortunate ones.

  We heard and knew that it was us, and we also knew that we would continue to follow the river…And so we did, for many a year until…"

  Coming to this point, Staretz had to stop reading. He knew very well what would come next, and he couldn’t stand seeing it expressed in his own words. It was too painful and he was glad Shootik was not there. He couldn’t stand his light-heartedness or a joke at this moment, though he appreciated them very much at other times.

  Yes…I wanted to go on and on to come to know where the river flowed, where it ended. I wanted to know everything, uncover the ultimate truth…

  He sighed.

  …And so I lost myself into this ambition. And then I lost her and everything else.

  Shootik rose gently to his little feet in his soft red velvet shoes and walking backwards disappeared from the room. He had been sitting quietly behind the Old Man’s armchair for quite some time. And now he couldn’t have told him where he had been so long…Shootik never told lies, as we know. He just ignored the questions, if he didn’t want to answer them.

  Chapter 8

  The Symposium

  The opening of the symposium in the big conference hall, the welcome drinks being served by the hotel’s personnel in grey-blue uniforms, each one wearing a cap with the logo of the medical profession: the Aesculapius. The Greek god Asclepios, god of healing. Some two hundred people moving around, who had obviously already registered. More were waiting their turn at the reception desk. Some were walking straight in and joining the crowd. Perhaps they had come earlier and stayed overnight at the hotel, Solveig thought. Not that this mattered. She arrived in good time and was already installed in her room, equipped with the latest technology. For the press-people, of course, and she was one of them, she smiled, freshly made.

  Clicking her digital camera a couple of times to capture the general scene, she moved slowly through the hall when she saw him. A heading towards her. Clearly, he had seen her first. No escape route, besides…what’s the use, she knew, or at least suspected, that he would be here. Face it! She told herself and looked at him.

  “Well, well, well, look who is here!” A was all charms and his usual self as she knew him, behaving as though nothing had happened in between. "Sol, my dear, how are you?"

  “Very well, thank you, and how are you?” Not waiting for an answer she made a step aside to focus her camera on him. “Do you mind posing for me? I’m here to report on the event." She clicked twice, slightly changing her position.”Thank you!"

  “Wait…!” A stretched his arm towards her. “Can we talk? Shall we…” he looked around, “find a quiet place…over there perhaps?” He pointed to a place at the back, where the hotel bar was situated. Solveig had been waiting for this.

  “Some other time perhaps,” she said, "I’m on duty, as you see." Taken aback, as he appeared to be, A touched her arm to hold her back.

  “Tell me when I can speak to you! I must tell you…about Jurij, we’ve been looking for you for quite some time. Where do you live?”

  His questioning was interrupted by a male figure in hotel uniform.

  “Excuse me, Dr Mathews, there is an urgent telephone call for you. You can answer it in the manager’s office. Please come with me.”

  “Dr Mathews…?” Solveig looked amusedly from one to the other. A red-blond lock of hair under the messenger’s cap made her almost cry out. You…again! She contained herself just in time, when he turned on his heels, leading A away from her.

  “This way, please, Dr Mathews.”

  The young fellow’s resolute gesture left no doubt as to which way. Taken by surprise, A followed him. There was nobody on the other end of the line when he picked up the phone at the reception manager’s office. The connection had been interrupted.

  “That’s odd,” said the lady at the desk, “the person was calling from South Africa, and insisted, oh yes," she added,”quite vehemently that he needed to talk to Dr Mathews."

  “You are Dr Mathews? Dr Mathews-Jones?”

  “Correct.”

  A was disconcerted. Who might have called him in that way…?

  “Are you sure that the call was for me?” A was annoyed.

  “Certainly, Dr Mathews, the person asked very clearly to be connected with you, the main speaker at this conference. If the person calls again…”

  “I am busy and not to be disturbed. Ask him to leave a message. And take note of the telephone number.”

  “I will. Thank you very much, Dr Mathews.”

  Leaving the reception manager’s office, A stopped at the reception counter in the hall. Could he have a look at the press people list, he asked the attendant. There was a journalist, he added, whom he knew, and he wondered if he was here.

  “Of course,” said the young man. Reaching under the desktop, he fetched a folder, from which he produced two sheets of paper.

  “Here we are,” he said, “the press people! Independent reporters are listed here…on page two. Can I help you finding the name of the journalist?”

  “Thank you. May I have the list for a moment?”

  A was visibly irritated with the young lad’s helpfulness. It was the same one as before. He went quickly through the list, obviously not finding the name he was looking for. Solveig, of course, was not registered under her real name.

  “Negative,” he said, giving the two sheets back. The young man put them in the folder, on top of the sheet number three, on which some more names were registered. Including that of the publisher for whom Solveig worked.

  Don’t worry, you’ll find her, A said to himself, walking to behind the stage, where preparations for the opening were being completed.

  The opening speech of the conference was a masterpiece of phraseology intended to sk
ilfully disturb, or at least dilute, the generally accepted ideas about human well-being. Framed by a huge display of the logo of the Green Dolphin Industries and Research Centres, the Chairman, Prof Dr Dr…a marble-statue-looking middle-aged man was pouring a terminology into the audience, which was supposed to make sense…Only to the initiated, Solveig thought. Numbers and abbreviations ran through it, cutting the speaker’s eloquence into separate slogans, which were bereft of any logical sequence.

  What was this? Unable to follow and seeing no point in making any kind of notes, Solveig focussed her attention on the audience. Her role as a reporter allowed for certain mobility with her camera. The first row occupants, VIPs certainly, appeared to be mesmerised by the flow of words coming from the chairman. Letting go of her need to understand what he was saying, Solveig’s mind switched into a silent void. In that unusual state, information was now streaming from underneath the fusillades of phrasing which were being shot into the audience.

  Just write down what you hear, don’t try to understand it…Solveig picked up her pen and started to write.

  This was the concealed message being transmitted, she realised with a shock, glancing at her paper when the chairman finished his transmission. And people were taking it in subliminally! It was outrageous, though highly intelligently conceived to make sense. The industry behind the Green Dolphin was offering a whole series of miracles to suffering humanity. Scientist from all branches of medical research, (the many abbreviations referring to their fields of action), were on the verge, it was suggested, of revealing their discoveries to the world. The aim was to release mankind of its scourges. Sicknesses, deficiencies and other undesirable physical states would soon no longer need to be healed. They would simply be eliminated.

  This information was being transmitted with a persuasion which would anchor a faith in this progress. Nobody would dare to question the necessity of what needed to be done to enable this evolutionary turn.

  There was only one little thing which was not mentioned, Solveig perceived: the number of suffering individuals in the world’s population would need to be constantly increased for this purpose. Artificially. How else, otherwise, could the industry maintain its functioning and make huge profits? Was it not living on the blood of those who suffered? And was this suffering not itself a by-product of a state of affairs which was being manipulated?

  A break had been announced. Refreshments were set out on several tables. Feeling thirsty, Solveig moved to one of them, deciding to have some mineral water. Helping hands on the other side of the table were busy opening bottles and filling the glasses. She pointed to a half litre bottle of mineral water to take with her, eager as she was to get some fresh air outside. The conference room had become quite warm in the last quarter of an hour before the break. Too warm, really.

  “Take this…it’s cooled!”

  A hand, holding a different bottle, reached towards her, with a glass to go with it. Looking up at whose hand it was, their eyes met. Bending slightly over the table to hand her the glass and the bottle, he whispered, pointing discretely to the row of other bottles displayed on the table: "Don’t drink that water…"

  In a split second Solveig understood. Nothing could surprise her now. Taking the bottle from his hand, she thanked him with a smile and looked nonchalantly at the labels on the other bottles. Island Water, it read. Island Water…the water they used to drink on the boat. Jurij had it delivered in crates and insisted, oh yes, now she remembered how insistent he was on having only that water!

  And now, looking back on the time on the boat…That was odd…Solveig’s mind raced in a circle…could it be…? No, this was too much of a suspicion…But then, don’t drink that water, he said…What if…? The thought made her shiver: the sudden rise in temperature in the conference-hall just before the break…making people thirsty…

  Making her way into the open, where people were gathered smoking their cigarettes, Solveig looked around, trying to find a place to be with her disturbing thoughts. Resting her glass on the balustrade of the terrace and leaning against it, she poured the water into it, certain of at least one thing: that it was safe to drink it. This water was sure to be free of additives. Her guardian angel had given it to her.

  A deep-sounding gong rang, announcing the end of the break. What was to follow was a sequence of talks by leading executives of the Green Dolphin Partner Enterprises, each one telling about their joint and individual latest developments. Contrary to the address before, these addresses were comprehendible, at least with regard to the message they were obviously meant to transmit: that of eradication of all evil concerning human health. This was the part the media were supposed to register and to pass on to the public.

  A, alias Prof Dr A. A. Mathews-Jones, alias…whatever his real name might be, the last of the speakers in the morning session, made his appearance.

  “Illumination…” he started by saying, straightening his back as he stood behind the lectern. “Oh, pardon, Elimination!" He almost shouted the word into the air above the heads of the audience, making a sweeping gesture accompanied by a broad smile.”Of course, this is what I mean: removal, abolition, riddance…“* He paused, gazing at the people in the first rows.”Is this not what we all need, and desire? To get rid of, not only heal? Not only to exchange or adjust…Green Dolphins have it in their hands,"* he proclaimed.

  Green Dolphins, in plural? But of course, Solveig felt cold on her back and arms. The temperature in the room had been lowered again. This is what it was all about, a radical extermination of everything unwanted. Anti-apocalypse? With A appearing with the great news?

  “Green Dolphins…” A’s voice now played on a lower note, insinuating a great mystery, “is a new creation. Mankind can be newly created. We have everything to make it possible.”

  He went on and on, drawing virtual pictures of a completely new humanity, which would have learned, as he put it, from the mistakes of the first creation. He meant God’s creation…His well-chosen words exerted a visible peculiar effect on the greater part of the audience. Like a magnet those words attracted people to gather around them. To be part of this new creation.

  This was a very effective stratagem. Solveig had to make efforts to stay awake and not be drawn into its power. She felt a need to get out of the room quickly, but how? Simulating an attack of coughing, she stood up from the corner seat she had occupied, and walked with an apologetic attitude quickly towards the door. Crossing the reception hall, still coughing to be sure it sounded believable, she headed for the staircase, avoiding the elevators. Her room was on the first floor. There she sat for a while, calming down and drinking a glass of water from the tap in the bathroom.

  This was more than she could take at that moment. A perfidy of the highest order, she realised. Under the cover of an apparent bona fide corporation and great benefits being promised to humanity, endorsed by a whole panel of well-known figures from an authentic bona fide medical and scientific world, A was in his best form to mislead this body of experts into believing in the new era and the solving of all problems through high technology and chemistry being developed by Green Dolphin Enterprises.

  Almost an Open Sesame, a magical phrase opening doors into an equally magical world, of their, the thieves’ creation.

  Sooner or later she had to face A. There was no way to avoid him. Besides, she also wanted to know about Jurij. Or what they had done with him. Touching-up her make-up, she also regained her self-control. Slowly, she went down the stairs back into the reception-hall and across it into the conference-room. By that time A was on his finishing words. Applause followed. It was lunchtime, with the next presentation scheduled for the afternoon. Plenty of time before that to digest…Solveig thought, not only the food.

  Suddenly, A materialised in front of her. Could he escort her ladyship into the restaurant, he asked charmingly. Why not…? She smiled, accepting the invitation. It was time to perform again.

  “I’m sorry to have missed a good part of yo
ur speech,” she said when they were seated.

  “Not to worry,” he answered, “it will be included in the proceedings.”

  “Not the same, though, as when it is spoken,” she observed.

  “Of course not,” he agreed, obviously pleased with her interest, “but here we are, in person, and if you have any questions…”

  “Oh no, not at the moment, I’d have to reconnect myself with what I heard and…” she hesitated, “read the rest of what you said.”

  “All right then, now about you…” A was not going to let her escape.

  This was a dangerous turn in the conversation. Solveig simply ignored it. The places at the next tables quite close to theirs were being occupied quickly. Fortunately, she thought, the place was not very inviting for a too-private talk. Diplomatically, A changed to casual chatting, asking, by the way, whether she knew that Jurij had been spending some time at a health clinic…No, she didn’t, how bad was it? Oh, nothing to worry about, A assured her. Jurij had been working too hard and needed to rest for a while. He would be soon back to normal when…A looked down at the table, as if searching there for the rest of the sentence.

  “When…” he continued cautiously, “it became clear that his mental disturbance was removed.”

  Jurij with a mental disturbance? Solveig looked straight into A’s eyes.

  “A mental disturbance?”

  “Yes.”

  “Curable?”

  “We expect it to be.”

  Who could say what kind of disturbance they had caused him to have? Solveig thought whilst her voice said:

  “I’m sorry for him,” sounding empathetic, which was true.

  “If you wish to visit him, he is in the Health Recovery Clinic…(A mentioned the name). It’s in the country, not far from here. I can give you the address.”

  “Thank you, I may consider visiting him…It was, of course, not very fair of me to leave him just like that…as you know.”