Chronicles From The Future: The amazing story of Paul Amadeus Dienach

by Unknown

  August 26th

  There come times when the idea of that huge, unknown world out there frightens me. I’m becoming accustomed to living the same, unchanging and unsurprising life, day by day in the institution and I find some joy in it. But Stefan tells me that I have to fight against my shyness and face the life that’s out there, waiting for me.

  August 27th

  Today Jaeger remembered young Northam again. Then, looking straight into my eyes, he murmured, “I know Andreas is not with us anymore; but I will always call you by his name.”

  Stefan told me the same thing the other day: “Let me call you Andreas…” And such was the tone of his voice that anybody would be jealous of Northam, of that rigid faith in the concept of friendship (so foreign to us) that was so strongly connected to his memory.

  August 30th

  A few days were enough to change everything around me! The environment, the people, the circumstances; all so different! Who could have imagined…

  NORTHAM’S CIRCLE AND THEIR SOCIAL CODE

  1-IX-MDIX (The dating system changes. It is our 3906 AD, but according to the future calendar it is 1509)

  And once again, everything is crumbling inside me. A great part of the expectations and the dreams of recent days have proven futile. The famous environment of my new life, Andreas Northam’s social circle appears to be nothing more than a playful and carefree bevy of young people. I am, however, starting to enjoy this whole story. Who knows, it might be just another defence mechanism of my mind…

  The plan for this morning was to take a walk along the nearby lake, where there were boats for hire. Youth, laughter, fuss, singing. Stefan struggled to marshal the group at every turn.

  “Hilda! Hilda! Wait! We can’t catch up! Andreas can’t run!”

  He looked somewhat annoyed by the fact that his sweetheart happened to be the one who was far ahead of everyone else and that she was the reason why the whole group had to speed up. Walking between him and Silvia, his other friend, it was difficult for me to keep pace.

  “Forgive me, Andreas,” Hilda later said. “My mind was elsewhere…”

  I felt that I had to say something nice to her as well. I looked at her. Truth be told, she was very pleasant to look at. With an awkward smile I said that it didn’t matter and that I was now feeling strong enough, which was not true. Stefan noticed my fatigue and suggested we took another break. Luckily, the rest of the road was downhill.

  I sat next to Stefan on a stone bench and we listened to Axel and Eric, who were talking about the beauty of spring mornings while picking poppies. Silvia was chatting with Aria. Juliet and Hilda were chasing a couple of blue butterflies.

  So this is the group of Andreas Northam’s friends then? I pondered in disappointment. I think that no one could expect to learn very much from this bunch of overgrown children.

  These two twenty-five-year-olds, along with the four young women and Stefan, had stormed into the institution three days ago as soon as the physicians allowed visitors. They surrounded me full of joy, whooping and laughing and asking me a thousand questions! They could hardly contain their excitement seeing me strong and healthy again—at seeing Andreas Northam, that is.

  I was impressed by their manners that would be considered rather childish for their age. It seemed very strange for Northam to have such a circle of friends since I knew that, before the accident, he had been a respected young scientist, who had worked in some sector of applied physics—I don’t remember which exactly—and with quite good results for that matter. In fact, the institute for which he was working had called the Molsen Institute several times asking about his health.

  Unintentionally, I looked towards the North, behind the high mountains, with a vague sense of nostalgia for my old homeland. I felt a tear trapped in the corner of my eye. I didn’t say anything to Stefan at that moment; he was pointing to some villas far in the distance, innumerable houses clustered together, almost like entire states. He told me that in many places they had kept the same archaic names like Waren, Cernobbio, Belano, Menaggio and others, names that now sound peculiar in a language that has changed so much.

  Hilda had the idea of singing a song with the rest of the girls. It was a spring song that they sang all together, verse by verse. It was a cheerful song to sing amongst friends. Out of the blue, a window opened, a girl appeared and started accompanying the song on her violin. Right next to her, a painter, who, up until then, had been struggling with his palette and his brushes, pulled out a flute and, in turn, accompanied the melody.

  How did that happen? How could these people drop what they were doing and attune themselves to our pace and gaiety? I was immensely impressed by that spontaneous and facile joy, their positive attitude and their desire to identify with us! The sense of camaraderie spread as if the melody of the song became an invisible bond uniting us! Before heading to the lake, we applauded our new friends and they applauded us, as if we were old mates.

  Then the chaps started pinning flowers on the girls’ lapels. Stefan pinned one on Hilda, Axel on Juliet and Eric on Aria. Silvia was looking at me with a hint of a smile, waiting for my move. With trembling hands I pinned the flower on her lapel like the others did, and we sauntered downhill holding hands, like little children. The four boats were ready. Most of the other groups of friends had already taken position and greeted us, the “late arrivals”, raising their right hand and waving to us from afar. The white sails were already set.

  I stop and observe their codes of behaviour. As Stefan explained to me, in this new world people are not strangers to each other. You talk to people you have never met open-heartedly, as if they are old friends; and they, in return, respond in the exact same way. They all have the same kind and relaxed attitude, the same naivety in their manners, the same benevolence, the same tact, the same warm camaraderie, as if they had all together attended a big, universal college in their childhood.

  I wanted to ask Stefan so many things. But how? It would have to be just the two of us if I were to do that. He had promised he would show me a typical image of modern life. He knew that what I wanted to see and experience was not the countryside and the holidays but the exact opposite: the large urban centres, the world of work and the everyday people. And I knew that these things existed somewhere.

  I would also like to know whether this shared behaviour, which was highlighted by strong and obvious characteristics of childhood purity, was the result of the purely economic factors that Stefan had talked to me about, which, with the passage of time, managed to raise this equality, this homogeneity, to such a high level. But without first seeing it with my own eyes in all its manifestations, I am not about to believe this universal fairy tale with its flawless and refined manners and its genuine brotherhood of man lacking in any ulterior motives.

  3-IX

  The odd change I’m going through all these days should be investigated, if anything, from the psychological point of view. My heart is calm and I’m becoming accustomed to all that I see around me. That has not been easy. I remember the first days when even the way people dressed seemed strange to me. I now find my life increasingly interesting. Every little thing intrigues me and I ask Stefan about so many things that it would take me ages to write it all down. But why do I not have the power to express all that I feel with precision? Wouldn’t it be more suitable for a craftsman of writing to be granted with this unique fate instead of someone like me, a poor and sickly teacher? So many new and different things and experiences! How wonderfully better a writer would transcribe them…

  Every day I think of my mother, the only source of affection in my life, and I wonder how it would be if she could be next to me and see it all with me. Anna still pops into my mind from time to time, but I feel that my old wound has somehow started to heal in my heart and doesn’t hurt as much anymore. My mind then takes me elsewhere: Oh God, how light is the weight of my twenty-eight years! How light! From this perspective, it’s as if I’ve turned back time! Looking at myse
lf in the mirror, something that terrified me and almost drove me insane in the beginning, now gives me untold pleasure!

  Everyone treats me as if I were Andreas Northam. And I am sure that none of them—excluding Stefan—knows the truth. From what I’ve understood, the old Northam was a bit superior to the rest in his circle of friends. The same goes for Aria if I judge by the way they treat her. Aria is twenty-five years old but, when she speaks, the rest fall silent. And another thing I noticed: last night when she entered the drawing room of the villa where we were, the ladies of our group stood up, like we men used to do—something that in our time and our social circles the ladies would never have done.

  5-IX

  In the meantime, I’ve learnt a great deal from Stefan regarding my new companions. Axel’s relationship with Juliet is only two months old. She is very young, nineteen or twenty years old, brunette, pretty and somewhat frivolous. She’s always a bit scruffy and enthusiastic about life and when she’s by herself, she often hums. Axel is her first love and their acquaintance began one day when they were in a garden and Juliet’s muslin dress was soiled and Axel hastened to hem it with pins in a makeshift way before it became dirtier. Axel plays the violin quite well, though if you ask Juliet, she’ll tell you that he’ll soon become a virtuoso! Nevertheless, they both have hearts of gold and the group can’t live without them.

  As for Silvia, I learnt that Andreas Northam loved her very much for a period of two-three years, but she never felt anything for him beyond a simple friendship and appreciation for the man and his work. Her heart might belong to someone else, who knows? Stefan doesn’t know anything on the subject since nobody cares for gossip here. However, when I saw her for the first time I got the feeling that I had seen her before. Then, when I was alone, I realised: I remembered because of my blurred memories from the hospital. She was among the nurses and even in the midst of my feverish daze I had noticed her. There was something very gracious and noble about her figure and she stood out from the others.

  Stefan told me again yesterday, “This love was very painful for Andreas. There were nights that his eyes constantly welled with tears.”

  I replied that he should, however, appreciate the honesty and principles that characterised Silvia, who never even thought of reciprocating without having feelings for him. “Somebody else in her place,” I said, taking into account Northam’s reputation, “wouldn’t really mind feigning love and affection in order to be with him.”

  Stefan, startled at first by my words, replied, “Why would you say that? That would be vulgar! No woman would do that!”

  I should not have opened my mouth. I quickly changed the subject and asked him what the others had to say about the “new” Northam. He told me that Silvia had mentioned me several times over the past few days. In fact, this morning she had asked him if he had noticed my changed gaze and if he remembered Andreas having such an expression before the accident. She also told him that Andreas was acting very strange, that he seemed unusually quiet, hesitant and timid, that his accent had changed and that he even found difficulty articulating words.

  I asked Stefan what to do since it was impossible for someone to make sense out of countless new things, obtain a new mentality, new manners and speak the language fluently, from one day to the next. He encouraged me with a smile and said that things would get better. An old friend of theirs happened to suffer a dreadful car accident and, after his recovery, he temporarily struggled to regain his mental capacities; that’s the impression they have. Would that ever be a reason for them to love you less? No. You can see for yourself that they’re always by your side showing you such affection.”

  I’m sitting on the terrace and all these thoughts and discussions flash before my eyes like moving pictures. I can hear the girls talking and laughing below. They tease me and ask how on earth I can read and write in such a ruckus. The sun has almost set and soon it’ll be time for “The Prayer of the Dusk” they hear every afternoon. I hear them call out for Stefan before I sink into my thoughts again.

  Here’s the peculiar thing about Stefan. It appears that we share a bond, a bond that he didn’t even share with his closest friend, Andreas Northam: the same love for history. His main occupation was the study of history in general and the art of the past millenniums in particular. And so our friendship evolves effortlessly even if there’s nothing in me to remind him of Andreas—neither their shared memories nor their dreams…

  As for Stefan’s bond with Hilda, it’s something that has stood the test of time. They’ve been happily together for over four years now and it looks like it’ll stay this way for the rest of their lives. Here is a truly happy couple! In fact, they have decided to have a baby and they have already handed in their legal statement to the Office Partners, the executives of the demographic services, to whom those wanting to have the one child they are permitted must submit their application. It’ll be their turn in roughly a year.

  Hilda also helps Stefan with work sometimes, reading aloud or copying, although Stefan himself says that he’s not made for big things. All he wants is to learn and that’s all. He knows he’s not meant to make any great contributions to the world of research, the exact opposite of Aria who, at twenty-five, has already published papers that took five or six years to complete and made a name for herself.

  As for the other three–Hilda, Silvia and Aria–they are bound together by a special friendship, different from their friendship with Juliet, which is a very recent one. The latter, of course, knows it, but she doesn’t mind in the slightest since she sees how much they care for her.

  They met on Christmas Eve eight years ago, in the Valley of the Roses in one of the palaces of the Lorffes—another ruling class similar to the Ilectors—where they, according to Hilda, along with many other teenage girls, carefully hand-picked among thousands for their natural beauty, dressed in white and holding torches, were welcoming the Ilectors to the reception after the great evening mass. They describe it as their best childhood memory, like a dream that was later hard for them to believe came true.

  Eric is finally coming! He’s holding some sort of racket and some other smaller paraphernalia needed for a game or sport I haven’t yet bothered to ask about. He’s wearing sandals and he is naked from the waist up. He looks fresh and excited. The acquaintance between Eric and Aria was a fateful one. They’ve been together for fourteen months and no one knows how long this relationship will last. This special girl, with her early inclination to study what she believed in since childhood, has managed, in her twenties, to be present at excavations in America together with great experts and who, based on a bold intuition—almost like an inspiration—argued for her own conclusions on the life of the Incas, findings that were later to be proven true! This inherently wise young woman, whose views were vindicated in so many aspects, who made her own statements before an audience of thousands in the megacity of Norfor two years ago, who lately had a whole crew of young people to help her with her research, had given up everything for this dark-haired young man, who might have an exquisite heart, but could not bear to hear a word about her job. A while back, Stefan heard him say, “Talk to me about sports, talk to me about travels, about swimming or whatever else you want, but don’t say a word to me about God and all these ancient treasures!”

  They’re ready to go. It’s time for the prayer. I won’t be writing till tomorrow.

  THE TWO-YEAR GLOBAL SERVICE, EVERYDAY LIFE AND DEMOGRAPHIC REGULATIONS

  6-IX

  I asked Stefan to leave me alone for the day so I could rest. I need to think about many things. “Stefan... Stefan,” I say to myself every so often, “I think you’re wrong about Silvia’s feelings towards Andreas Northam.”

  I constantly criticise myself and the feebleness of my character. “What are you doing to yourself, you poor lunatic?” I think, “You’ll be very sorry one day…”

  I feel the insidious and deceitful attraction of chaos. "Sylvia… Sylvia...” I keep repeating in my he
ad. What a strange name… I like saying it out loud. The fact that she’s from another, more superior race from a different era gives her an extra, metaphysical charm.

  The voice of reason whispers in my ear: “Be careful, you poor wretch… The serenity of the heart is as important as the health of the body; you will only appreciate its value once you’ve lost it.” And the truth is that I must not forget how essential the absolute serenity of the heart is in my case, and it is my duty to protect it. The infinite horizons of knowledge that lie ahead demand my undivided attention and constant meditation.

  At the same time, however, I take pride in realising that on no occasion should I lack confidence. Not only have I got the looks but also the heart and inner wisdom, so, based on what I’ve seen from all these people, they are no better than me. I could easily be one of them without being subject to comparison. I feel like I’m entering their world for real now!

  7-IX

  Stefan was avoiding taking me to cities and showing me the life there. One day, when he was standing silently on the terrace, I pointed to the exquisite nature before us and said, “It’s a happy life you have here… You’ve got everything. You lack nothing.” Immediately after that, I made a vague reference to the duration of this holiday. At first he looked at me, puzzled. Then he smiled and, with feigned fatigue and supposed indifference, he let his head drop on the back of the armchair. “Oh yes…” he said, gazing far into the distance. “I was lucky. From seventeen to nineteen, I happened to find great job opportunities and do good business back then. ‘So young?’ you might ask. Yes, so young, strange though it may seem to you. Within two years, not only did I manage to pay back my parents for all the money I had cost them up until then, but also save enough money to secure a comfortable life for the rest of the days I am destined to live.”