by Unknown
It is said today that the work of John Terring was far superior for the history of humanity than the legend that the descendants of his generation had created around the “first great publicly active man”.
When he was young, he was a big dreamer. During his childhood he had spent two summers in his very old, ancestral villa with the beautiful gardens that today has become the central square of Marienborg. By the time he died, the only thing that had survived from the villa was its walls and yet they found a way to restore it—staying as true to the original as possible—and transfer it here, all the way from Terringtown, along with his notes of “mad, grandiose plans”, mementoes of those two summers, which revealed the restless heart of a child that would later achieve great things. There still exist historical pictures of his parents, his two sisters, who were almost the same age as him, and his adopted little brother, Charles Terring.
This morning, I sat and stared at the towering statue in his memory, located in the square bearing his name. Mondstein, the sculptor, has portrayed him with his right hand raised, pointing far in the distance. Further down, you see the smaller-sized statues of the four other precursors: Spaak, Verginus, Milstone and Trodalsen.
For all present-day people, Terring is the most charismatic public figure in history. For his contemporaries, the Cives with the universal national consciousness and the uniform civic education, Terring, one of the protagonists of human history, does not only live inside the history pages; he’s still here, living among each new generation. This modern-day Woodrow Wilson enabled new paths to be created by leading the way to the establishment of the new chronology. Thanks to him, his charm and persuasion and the impact he ultimately had on so many different cultures, the necessary trust in a universal social and political life that was worthy of and equal for all the inhabitants of Earth was built. He lives among them and they, all the inhabitants of today's universe, love him as deeply as he had once loved humanity and shared the pain and sorrow of billions of people. They love Terring, the political figure, “the first ever to essentially and effectively escape the shackles of the local ruler”, Terring the inspirational orator who mesmerised the crowds around the world, with the deep wrinkles of mental concentration engraved on his forehead and the characteristic grey stole of the “Great Year” (their year 1, our 2396 AD) draped around his neck, a very frequent accessory of his. But even more, they love the Terring of the portrait by Knut Valdemar, making a speech at the 2394 European Convention, the year after which the Universal Commonwealth was established.
Blomsterfor, 27-VI
(Shortly before midnight)
It makes you wonder: which is that ingenious race that managed to defeat the monster of overpopulation and the relentless lack of space? Which are those miraculous generations that did not fear that they would suffocate among those billions of people and instead managed to build layers of ground, like floors, one above the other? Who are those people who managed to produce abundant food for all from their laboratories through artificial photosynthesis?
I asked Stefan why people choose to crowd together in overpopulated cities when there’s so much nature in the countryside that could host them, offering them a much more comfortable and quiet life. He answered that they prefer to densely populate their cities in a rational way—a way that seems to me, the inexperienced and unfamiliar, more like insanity—than to spread out to the farmlands and other unadulterated parts of nature. That is why they build the city upwards instead, stretching incredibly wide air bridges they call rums, high above their skyscrapers. You can even see their technicians shake them like whips when they fix them! If you look up, you’ll see them hanging above your head like a net or an enormous spider web!
Truth be told, the modern face of their megacities is, in my eyes, an incredible spectacle! That doesn’t mean, however, that they don’t intimidate me still. This morning, a flock of countless giant flying saucers, thicker in the centre and thinner at the periphery, coming one after the other without stopping, shook me to my core. I was sitting on a bench, calm and unsuspecting when suddenly I felt the sun disappear so I lifted my head. When I did, I saw the giant flying discs flying above my head, spreading a horrifying shadow over the waters of the river and the cottages!
“Why be afraid?” Stefan later asked me. “There was no reason to be frightened just because you happened to be alone.” He later explained to me that those discs were headed to their artificial moons, thousands of kilometres upwards, in the densely populated colonies of their scientists. That’s how the scientists and technicians alternated shifts. At lunchtime and again in the afternoon, Stefan gave me some special binoculars and I saw for myself quite a few of these artificial “human moons”, situated very high up in the sky above Blomsterfor. Some were larger, others were closer to us, and you could see them gleaming in the sun rays.
FEELING LIKE A STRANGER
Blomsterfor, 28-VI
A brief tour around the central arteries of Blomsterfor left me with a completely different impression from the one I had yesterday, watching it from afar. I think I should change quite a lot of what I wrote in my hasty notes last night; my conclusions were frivolous. In fact, had my initiation to the fast-paced Markfor not preceded, I don’t think I would have even been able to stand on my feet without the aid of Stefan here in Blomsterfor, among the millions of people that crowd together and bustle about the city, under the shadow of these unbelievably huge buildings.
Stefan stood by me as much as he could throughout our morning walk. But we also had to make sure that Hilda and Silvia, who had come along, didn’t notice my perturbation. And the truth is that in one of the central districts of the megalopolis, in the middle of Toeplitz 1812 square, I was almost irreparably exposed, so much that they afterwards started asking me if I had suddenly fallen ill. Holding Stefan’s arm, I barely managed to cross the square. And not because of the urban mintels —something similar to our tram— which at that time weren’t even moving, but because of the sudden, overwhelming vertigo I felt, caused by the incredibly vast, flat, open area with an oversized bronze sculpture in the centre.
Later on, I regained my composure. To my understanding, the cause of my transient collapse was more psycho-neurological than physiological. I sat in the shade for a while, calmed down, had a sip of an orange juice I was offered and when we started walking again, I begged Stefan not to make me cross that immense square again. Nevertheless, I saw much beauty and majesty this morning; I saw it with my eyes, but not my heart… My soul was empty once again, helpless, incapable of reaching any new depths of perception, appreciation or understanding. I am aware of that emptiness inside me. And if I don’t write anything of substance, anything deeper than the fleeting external impressions of my everyday experiences, it’s not due to a lack of interest in asking and learning about all those great things, nor to my idleness or commitment to my relationship with Sylvia; it’s because of this awareness of mine. You see, the essence, the soul of all these things is not just offered to anyone, to a stranger, an outsider, a temporary visitor like me. I’m lacking in preparation and knowledge of tradition. At least the tourists from my era knew something about the places they visited. I, on the other hand, know nothing. My vision functions perfectly, the desire exists, but fate had planned it so that everything would be superficial to me. I cannot digest all these things, I cannot make them my own; I try, but I fail every time…
I know that what I see is the visible condensation of a long, profound reality, foreign and inaccessible to the uninitiated, the synthetic image of a beautiful life in which I am not entitled to take part. A centuries-old tradition, mature in meaning, in institutions, in the organisation of life and culture, gets in the way and separates us. These centuries knew how to guard their secrets…
With each step I take, the bitter awareness of my gap in education and tradition grows stronger. A few hours ago, I sat by the riverside, by that incredible, over 200-feet-long quay, and looked at the monumental, wrought ir
on doors of those enormous buildings that seemed crafted with great care and attention to detail, like lace. Above me, linsens and vigiozas quietly followed their usual trajectory while I was trying to figure out to which world I ultimately belong…
FLOWER DECORATION AND THEIR TRANSPORT NETWORK
Blomsterfor, 29-VI
This megalopolis is now the biggest in population among the states around the Rhine and, apart from its exceptional technical and spiritual culture, it is also famous for its love for flowers. I saw cascades of flowers everywhere: on the facades of palaces, on the streets, in central squares. Gladiolas, carnations, purple lilacs, geraniums in a number of wonderful—new to me—hues as well as climbing roses and periwinkles that covered the walls. In the arcades, which serve to protect them from the rain, you feel like you’re in a museum; the ceilings of those dreamy arcades are decorated with their favourite pastel colours and gilt frames. It seems that in other states of Central Europe with a population of twenty to thirty million, they are also accustomed to similar artistic decorations in the arcades. This seven-lane avenue is called Von Gottes Gnaden and I don’t know if it's the only boulevard of Blomsterfor. Maybe Stefan sent me here deliberately to amaze me. If that’s the case, he has succeeded!
In the evening, I spoke to Stefan about these incredibly expensive roads they have in their gigantic states and asked him how on earth they can afford such reckless overspending. He laughed and told me that they hadn’t cost anything and that thousands of young artists-Cives had offered to build them, or connect their name with the decoration of the arcades of their homeland. That reminded me of the case of Lain, who carries on with his educational and pedagogical work solely out of emotional and intellectual inclination and moral satisfaction.
Stefan told me about the current redistribution of human effort and talent, a programme that has been implemented by the new economy and technical advancement and seeks to address the boredom that would plague a great number of the prematurely demobilised workers, if they have not found new objectives after their twenties, a new purpose or a noble mission in their lives.
He then explained the procedure of decorating the city to me: first, the office partners estimate the number of designers and decorators that will be needed for a two- to five-year period. Then they send the names of those who have offered to help to the leading contemporary specialists Lorffes of the Valley. After that, the Lorffes, with the assistance of worthy delegates—all great artists—compile the list of candidates and then the permanent residents of the area where the artistic intervention is going to take place vote effortlessly online, and the electronic vote-counters in the municipal facilities announce the shortlist.
Another thing that struck me in Blomsterfor is the fact that this huge state, with its linsen-filled sky, did not hesitate to also build a terrestrial transport network with central ground stations in its major districts-cities, which enabled access to greater Europe and the rest of the world, as well as those huge terraces, bases of their civil air transport network. Now only the major ports for the daners are located several kilometres outside the capital.
So let me paint you the picture: pedestrians and wheeled vehicles dominate the streets while high up above, thousands of flying vehicles circulate and land on the terraces of towering buildings. From there, using high-tech lifts, people descend to street level and continue their journey. All surfaces are, of course, incomparably larger than what we’re used to, as is the incredible number of visitors that perpetually—albeit quietly—go up and down.
Through the central stations of Norstat, on the outskirts of Blomsterfor, pass the large intercity motorways, the Eurasian autostradas leading to Arlenhom, New Trondheim, the Big Bergen, Terringtown, Varsava, Harkovo, Tobolsk and all the way to Siberia and the Pacific coast.
Here I saw for the first time one of their huge ragiozas parked, because until now I gaped at them on the move, speeding at an incredible rate for their size. With its multiple floors, it looked like a fallen skyscraper from afar.
It’s enough to see just one of these intercity wheeled vehicles with the incredible dimensions, these enormous moving cities with restaurants, spas, lounges, and specially designed car parks—furgos they call them—where they store the small linsens and all sorts of individual flying vehicles for the roughly 500-1000 passengers, to understand why their large universal arteries that link Portugal to the metropolitan states and capitals of the Far East were built so incredibly wide.
Blomsterfor, 30-VI
Two professional film directors of my time made their own films about the Great War, one focusing on London called Waterloo and the other one on the Balkans with his film The Last Bridge. If only they knew that due to a number of coincidences their works would survive after so many centuries while millions of other films—possibly much better ones and not as commercial—have been long lost, they would have been so proud!
Now that I mention Waterloo, I remember the derogatory way they spoke of Napoleon who, after his army was almost completely destroyed, said that “one night suffices for the French women to rebuild the great army,” reducing human beings to mere flesh. Stefan told me: “Every person is a whole world. Do not touch it. Do not interfere with it. First of all, you can’t, and second of all, you have no right to! The esoteric person is independent of the physical aspect of the individual, completely irrelevant to their material or biological existence. They are made up of a vast moral universe of dreams, ideals, moving life stories of tenderness and affection, love, humanism and sacred human suffering. And no Napoleon can ever destroy that.”
ART AND 3D THEATRES
In their museums and galleries, next to the exhibits of their most famous works—mostly the masterpieces of their 9th century—they also display some artworks of our 19th century, mainly from the fields of music, poetry and the Art of Discourse, as well as several works of the plastic arts of the Renaissance. I wonder if anything from the 20th century, the “times of decadence and darkness” as they call it, has survived. Probably nothing that is related to art, but perhaps something from our technology.
Last night they took me to the centre of Blomsterfor, to the famous outdoor theatre of Arlington with the artificial air-conditioners that sufficiently covered every inch of that huge, amphitheatrically-designed open space. They call it an “arena”, but the meaning of this word has changed throughout the years and has now come to mean “open-air”, without referring to the shape of the theatres, which is, however, usually circular or ellipsoid, or their architecture, and without implying any connection whatsoever to the ancient Roman amphitheatres. And the truth is that it looks nothing like them. That monumental complex of buildings truly amazes you from the moment you see it, at first for its size and its elegance and then for the unlimited possibilities of its stage. Every single minute in that theatre makes you feel like you’ve entered a magical parallel universe; it gives the impression of a legend or a fairy tale brought to life, in the service of mankind!
The scenes alternate with the same ease as on the Reigen-Swage. And in both cases, directors can use all their genius and talent. Although in the Reigen-Swage you know that everything you see—including the characters, who are nothing but actors—is artificial, it all feels completely real; as if you’re living among them, as if you’re part of the story. And even if you turn your head in any direction, the action continues to unfold uninterrupted, apparently thanks to some kind of miraculous combination of “laser beams”, offering the spectator these magical panoramas. Here, too, the plot unfolds before your eyes stereoscopically, enhancing the illusion of depth, only now, you’re not a part of the spectacle. If you take a look around, you can see the stone-built tiers of the amphitheatre as well as the thousands of other spectators that fill them.
Here the actors are real and so are their voices. The dialogues and noises are live. However, the technical resources have reached such a level of perfection that the clouds you see, the sky, the rivers, the houses, the stones an
d all sorts of landscapes, seem as real as the ones around you, below you and above you! Of course, if you went closer and tried to touch them, they’d disappear. Here all viewers, regardless of their position or their actual distance from the stage, see and hear the actors through the transparent rectangular crystal in front of the seat, which is flanked by a magical tape that reproduces sound! A spectator in the upper tier seats sees and hears them with the same ease as a spectator in the front row seats.
In short, with the exception of the dynamic vividness of the actors’ performances and the vibrancy of their voices—voices here just need to be clear and with correct articulation, the volume isn’t important, like in our era—everything else feels like the stuff of dreams and fairy tales, just like in the Swage. That’s probably why these colossal, hollow theatres of current times have been designed with such unlimited possibilities: to create that dream-like atmosphere.
The incredible impact that the Arena of Arlington has on the foreign spectator is mainly owed to the superb coordination between the actors and the technical means used also by the Reigen-Swage. And that technical capability makes it possible for plays that were initially made for the Reigen-Swage, to be performed here as well, using the same sequences of alternating scenes and without losing any of their magic!
