by LEMPEREUR
“Concentrate, Charlie! She’ll still be here when you get back. What Francisco says is crucial for everything to work properly. This time, I won’t be there to do what you have to do for yourself, so make an effort, please! The experiment hasn’t even started yet and you’re already daydreaming.”
Meanwhile, Francisco had continued his monologue. Jacques, who had now lost the thread of the presentation, found himself momentarily in the position of an outside observer of the scene, instead of being completely absorbed by the actual content of Francisco’s speech. He was thinking that not even once had Francisco’s eyes met his, since the moment they entered the room. It was as if he was talking to himself, and yet there he was in front of them, his eyes wandering aimlessly. I must concentrate, he thought. At the same time he could not help thinking that Francisco was certainly very unique. Although certain aspects of his behavior made him seem totally absentminded, it was also obvious that he was trapped in a cruel reality: he was incapable of understanding emotions, and all that is implicit to human relationships. No doubt the humor that Jacques was so fond of using, to ease his pain and get him through rough patches, would be no help to this guy. Thankfully, Mario was different.
Francisco was now explaining to Charlie how they would have to go about configuring the neural probe in order to make the transcription as accurate as possible. To do this, Charlie would need several hours of training right after inserting the neural probe; and all this was programmed for no later than six o’clock the following morning.
13 CONNECTION
Charlie could feel a slight prickling sensation above his temples. For a split second a vague odor of burning flesh filled the padded compartment where his head lay. He felt a slight, painless tugging on the top of his skull then nothing. Now soft music with a gentle, repetitive tune was playing inside the helmet. The visor had become opaque several moments earlier and he found himself cut off from all external stimulation. He could not feel his body anymore and this absence of sensation gave him an intense feeling of well-being; an impression of freedom he had never experienced before.
Suddenly, he noticed his brother’s voice speaking to him telepathically, but it was fainter than usual.
“They have just inserted the neural probe, apparently successfully. For now everything seems to be going according to plan. In a few minutes you’ll be connected to Victor. According to Francisco, you won’t notice the connection straight away. Your train of thought will simply take an unfamiliar turn and you’ll be inundated by a flood of images, which you’ll need to ride out. We don’t know yet what form you will perceive me in when I speak to you, but my voice will probably be accompanied by a visual representation constructed by your own imagination. Whatever the representation or its mutations, you’ll need to go by the sound of my voice, which shouldn’t change too much. That will be your guide in an otherwise visual world.”
The voice fell silent for a moment then began again, a little more clearly, “Okay! Now it’s time to use the graphic interface. Answer me in writing, so I can be sure you understand everything I just told you.”
Immediately, a small text appeared on the console screen. It was proof that Charlie was still quite with it and that he was managing to use the neural probe perfectly well. Jacques, lying beside him, could read his brother’s answer with the aid of a small screen attached to his seat. The text and all the physiological data were viewed and recorded on the console, and also simultaneously in a research lab room, where part of the medical team was at work.
…Everything’s okay, Jacques. I’ve never felt so free. I’m ready to take the plunge now. Try and keep an eye or me, but if ever things should go wrong, make the right decision and save yourself.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Just be sure you don’t forget where you come from. Your real life is here, even if it hasn’t always been an easy one for us.”
… You can count on me. I won’t forget you!
“Good luck, Charlie!”
Jacques pressed the remote control that Francisco was holding out to him, which initiated the last phase of the neuronal connection. His anxiety was now tangible. His face had darkened and his eyes narrowed. He closed them, to concentrate solely on his internal feelings, attentive to the slightest signal that could be coming from his brother. If Charlie was in danger, he would know it immediately, whatever happened.
For now, the data on the console showed that Charlie had entered a phase of deep immersion. It would probably be quite some time before he could resurface and communicate with Jacques again through the neural probe. All they could do was wait.
14 A NEW WORLD
A small, brown moth was frantically fluttering about, flying repeatedly toward the central, naked light bulb that hung from the ceiling. Its continuous rushes back and forth invariably led to the same result – a violent collision with the burning glass, followed by a fall of several centimeters, while the insect gathered its wits and prepared a fresh attack. Charlie had watched the scene over and over again and yet, every time, he could not help feeling a certain pity for the poor creature. He was lying on his bed in a very comfortable position; strangely comfortable in fact. The lower back pain and usual heaviness that weighed him down every morning were no longer there. He felt lighter, as if his body had decided to stop fighting against him, for the first time since the twins’ birth.
The little creature was certainly no monarch, but merely a plain, brown moth. Its life was limited to a few hours of mindless gesticulations in the confined area of an apartment, while its fellow creatures covered thousands of kilometers out in the wild. Impelled by a collective mission that transcended them and all their other monarchs before them, they would return to the land of their forbears to reproduce. Giving life to new creatures, which would in turn follow the twists and turns of the great maiden voyage – that intoxicating journey, fraught with the dangers which give meaning to life, whatever that life may be – such was the destiny of those frail but superb creatures.
And yet here was this poor, dull-colored moth, whose journey was limited to convolutions which seemed at first glance, to be as pointless as they were deathly. Charlie reached out and turned off the light in a benevolent gesture, hoping by this heroic act to save the poor creature and give it the opportunity to find a new destiny for itself. Unfortunately, as he should have expected, the miserable insect, now disoriented and aimless, landed near the hot light bulb and was still.
Daylight was starting to show through the closed shutters, penetrating the bedroom with a vivid glow; the promise of a bright, sunny day. Charlie decided to get up and make the most of the beautiful weather. He turned to look at Jacques; but he was not there. There was no one else in the bed, which now seemed abnormally wide. His face was filled with fear. He could not move. He was stunned, not knowing what to do. He was in the same situation as the moth when the light suddenly went out. Something inconceivable had happened. Was he dead? Was he dreaming? He was immediately gripped by anxiety, but strangely, it did not affect him as usual. It was – how could he put it? – more academic. His body was still relaxed, although he usually got stomach cramps and was prone to alternating sensations of intense heat and cold, which completely overwhelmed him and made him fear the onslaught of some dreaded disease. This time it was different; he was mainly afraid of forever losing touch with reality.
However, little by little the sensation subsided inexplicably. He was still in the same place, nonetheless; alone in his bed. Not knowing how to get out of this surreal situation, he tried – without much hope – calling out to his brother; as if he could be anywhere but here by his side, their two bodies fused together… No answer came. Taking a closer look at the sheets, he could see that they still held the imprint of Jacques’ body, and even if the sight was completely absurd, it reassured him. Although he no longer existed at his side, Jacques had at least existed, and probably still existed somewhere.
Suddenly, one of the red window shutters blew open with a gust of wind. The sky was a deep
shade of blue and sunshine flooded the room. It was time Charlie got up and got moving, despite the strangeness of the situation. He got up in one easy movement and noticed that he was already dressed in a perfectly ironed, brown suit. He even looked quite elegant and moved with confident, easy strides. He went to the window and flung it open to breathe in the morning air, which he expected to be cool and invigorating. Instead, hot, suffocating air rushed into the room. The impression was as unexpected as it was unpleasant. The sky was blue, but empty. Not a single cloud, building, or tree broke the monotony, as if his bedroom were perched in the sky, far above the ground. He quickly closed the window, filled with panic again. He looked at the maroon door that ordinarily opened onto the bathroom. It was identical to the one in his apartment, except for one detail: this one looked new. It seemed to be made of a rust-proof metal that had been colored through anodizing. He walked hesitantly toward it and grasped the door handle. The door opened slowly with a creak, which he immediately recognized as the sound it had always made.
Before him was a steep staircase leading to a small corridor, the end of which was hidden from view. He took his keys, which were sitting as usual on top of the little shoe cupboard, and left the apartment, carefully locking the door behind him. At the end of the corridor he found himself in front of a glass door, through which he could see in the distance an enormous steel dome that seemed to be ablaze in the sun. It sat in the middle of a perfectly maintained lawn, like a grassy sea; a sea which he would have to cross if he wanted to reach the dome.
As he walked, the suffocating heat slowed his movements, so much so that the dome never seemed any closer, despite the miles he had already covered. The way seemed endless, but he continued making slow, tedious progress as best he could. There were only a few meters left between him and the enormous, steel door when he noticed a small gold plaque, with ‘Hubble 37’ written on it. On second inspection, he saw another, much smaller door, adjoining the first. This one was all rusty, and in the middle was a keypad, so old that it was difficult to make out the numbers and letters on it.
Curiously, Charlie did not hesitate for a moment. He reached out and automatically typed the following code: ‘V.I.C.T.O.R.’, followed by the number: ‘3728’. Suddenly a female voice said, “Welcome, my dear Charlie! I’ve been expecting you for a long time.” Charlie recognized Clementine’s voice immediately and a radiant smile instantly lit up his face. His excitement was tangible. This was it! This time she was here, waiting for him alone, behind this door. He took a small mirror from his pocket, which he used to make sure he looked his best on this special day. He was more handsome than he had ever been and this time, there was no one around to make comments about his behavior, or steal his confidence. He cautiously took hold of the door handle and with great apprehension, slowly pushed open the old door. It made a grating noise like a freight train braking at full speed on its heavy steel tracks. The strident sound was so intense that Charlie grimaced and cringed slightly.
Behind the door was a small, red bed, surrounded by crimson curtains. Clementine was lying there, completely naked, smiling at him. This sight, although extremely pleasant, bothered Charlie so much that he began to blush. A strong feeling of guilt came over him. I can’t take advantage of this situation, he thought. But Clementine kept looking steadily at him, motioning him to join her. Large drops of sweat ran down his forehead as he stood, unable to move, incapable of taking even one step toward her. The young woman’s face slowly fell, giving way to an increasingly quizzical expression.
“What are you doing, Charlie? Do you think I’m going to wait forever?”
Paralyzed, rooted to the spot, he did not know how to answer.
Then Clementine got really cross. She got up brusquely and slipped on some white faux leather pants which showed off her beautiful curves. Her chest still bare, she came toward him and kissed him on the cheek before disappearing through a small, wooden door, which remained open behind her. Through it he could see what looked like the kitchen of a prize-winning chef. He walked to the door and opening it wide, was strangely relieved to see that the room was empty. A lone copper sauce pan was simmering on one of the gas stove’s six hobs. The aroma of soup coming from it tantalized Charlie’s nostrils and he suddenly felt unbearably hungry. He grabbed the pan and poured its entire contents into a large, white china bowl. The familiar smell of leek soup reminded him of wonderful times spent as a child, at his grandparents’ house in the country. He drank down the whole bowlful with delight. A feeling of intense pleasure came over him. He closed his eyes, fully concentrating on the flavor and aroma of the soup, which filled him with contentment.
15 DEAD END
The bowlful of soup that Charlie had just devoured on his own was beginning to weigh strangely on his stomach. He suddenly felt a lot heavier, so much so that he soon began to drowse on his chair. He was not really asleep, but his eyeballs started to roll upwards and his eyelids kept closing, despite his efforts to keep them open. In a moment of weakness, as his head was starting to slip repeatedly from the support of his hand, he heard a familiar voice. It seemed to be coming from himself.
“Charlie! Can you hear me? It’s me, Jacques.”
Charlie jumped and began looking all around him, searching everywhere in the room for his brother, to no avail. He decided he must be going crazy, and yet he had a feeling of déjà-vu. He was convinced he had already lived through this scene, although he was not sure it had happened in this place.
The voice spoke again, “Charlie! You can’t see me, but if you can hear me, you can answer using the neural probe that Francisco implanted before the connection. I’ve already tried to make contact with you four times, without success.”
At these words, a flood of memories came rushing back into Charlie’s mind. He remembered that he was immersed in Victor’s mind and that his brother really was at his side throughout the whole journey, even though he could not see or feel him. He concentrated on trying to answer him, using the neural probe.
… I hear you, Jacques. For a while I thought I had passed away. I was afraid I had gone completely mad - things seem so implausible in this virtual world.
“I’m so glad to read you, Charlie. We were getting worried here. It’s been six hours since we lost all contact with you.”
… Don’t worry. Everything’s fine. At least, I think so.
“Can you tell me if anything in particular happened that could explain how you finally noticed my voice?”
… Not really. Wait, yes! Maybe I just fell asleep. At least, that’s what it felt like. Oh, and then I also ate some delicious soup, but that can’t have anything to do with it.
“Was it leek soup?”
… How did you know?
“Maybe because I have just eaten whole bowlful, made by Mario and Clementine.”
Charlie was about to answer when something caught his eye. A little mouse was scuttling across the kitchen, in fright. It ran toward a little hole in the bottom of the wall, disappeared inside then came out again a few seconds later. As it was watching him quite calmly, he tried to approach it, with soft, slow steps. It kept still right up until he reached out to stroke it. Then it went back into its hole and Charlie, who was now lying on the cold tiled floor, could only see two little bright blue eyes in the darkness. Those two little blue beads lost in the dark had a hypnotic effect on Charlie, so that soon he could no longer see the back of the hole, which had turned into a long tunnel, where he could stand without difficulty. Surprised, he straightened up and stretched out his right hand, searching for the wall. Even though he could not see it, he could feel something like damp rock under his fingertips. Droplets of lukewarm water trickled slowly up his arm. The atmosphere was now a lot cooler, despite the heavy humidity which made the air difficult to breathe.
Charlie kept going, walking slowly toward the two blue beads, which had become distant and minuscule. As he went on, his eyes adjusted to the dimness. Now he could make out the rocky ground, which see
med to be covered in red lichen. Looking up, he noticed that the little eyes had practically disappeared. He could only make out a barely visible, pale glow. He thought for a moment that he saw the shape of an arrow carved in the rocky floor, but the thin layer of lichen prevented him from seeing it clearly. He knelt down and began to scratch at the edges with his fingernail. Strange symbols, whose meaning was not immediately obvious, slowly began to appear. In the end, as he could not understand them, he stood up. Looking at the group of symbols one last time, he set off on his way again. But then he noticed more symbols right next to the first, which he had not yet uncovered. He quickly cleared away the lichen, and stood up again. Now, viewing all the symbols as parts of a whole, he realized it was actually some sort of map. It seemed to show the different areas of the base, but a lot of things were missing. Only the huge metallic structures, such as the domes, were visible.
However, something intrigued him. There was a whole area of the base, shown on the map, which did not resemble any place he knew of. Perhaps he had not seen all of it yet after all. This last thought intrigued him all the more. Could Giuseppe have deliberately hidden something from them? He tried to put away that thought, telling himself that it was all mere supposition, of no real value. But the idea had taken root and it continued to work away at the back of his mind. Throwing a last glance at the strange engravings, he continued quietly on his way.
The conversation with Jacques had brought him back to Earth, or rather, to the dream. He was now perfectly conscious that the events and impressions he had just experienced, and would continue to experience in the near future, were not real. They were only mental constructs coming from the connection between his mind and Victor’s. This had the effect of making him feel a lot calmer and less impulsive in his reactions to the images and situations he met. Ordinarily, he would almost certainly have panicked at the idea of being lost in some dark, damp, rocky tunnel, where he could see neither the entrance nor the exit. Instead, he was curious, and set about exploring in a calm and methodical manner.
