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

The golden, circular square with the elaborate decorations on the floor was about half the size of our St. Peter's Basilica in Rome. It did not, however, have any chapels or pulpits enhancing it. The huge curvilinear pilasters of chiselled marble, twelve in total, supported the thick, carved stone roof, built in the shape of a coin. On the interior, the pilasters were decorated with masterful murals by their famous 9thcentury painter, Fabius Sigra. Its construction was not metal-based. It was built in such a way that even if you removed all the metal bits, the twelve towering pilasters wouldn´t be affected at all; they´d still stand proud and tall.

“Let’s go to Christ on the opposite side of the square… Let’s go to Christ…” I kept whispering to Stefan, begging him almost while desperately clutching his arm. “That’s where we’re going,” he replied gently, trying to calm me down, “but we’re taking a shortcut, much to your disappointment…”

My friend looked somewhat embarrassed as if he had been entrusted with the care of a defenceless child deprived of judgment. “There is no sin in the use of gold, “he says. “Why would you consider it a sin? It serves no purpose nowadays.” I felt guilty for my unreasonable attitude. Several days ago he told me that “temple” here also means a commemoration place. “You need to learn how to distinguish the places of religious faith and worship from the mere memorials. Gold is not even considered wealth nowadays. Our glothners and our institutions are our gold. This is the true wealth of today. The gold here in the temple is the entire amount of the world’s remaining gold, which now has no benefit for the economy, but which during the “dark years” was the main source of human suffering. The gold in this temple is nothing but a symbol of peace.”

I asked him if it was true that the forefathers of today's ruling class were industrial workers. He confirmed it saying that the ancestors of today’s Ilectors and Lorffes worked in the glothners of the time, just like they all do.

I look around me and I see that, thanks to Kersteen, numerous real tragedies of the “prehistoric” for them years have survived and are commemorated here. As in the work of Thoralsen, Vana-Aregia, here the skilful artists have managed to breathe real life into synthetic ivory.

Soon we had to leave; it was other people’s turn. I barely had time to see a few parts of Fabius Sigra’s frescoes. I happened to see quite a few scenes from of our own Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Little Match Girl”, perfectly depicted on the curved interior walls. The text was written below in small, gold letters. It was the original text in the old Scandinavian language!

THE OATH AND THE GRAND PROCESSION

We stayed for two-three hours in the gestel in the afternoon to rest. When we flew back to the temple in the evening, the crowds throughout the Rosernes Dal were unprecedented; people filled the vast squares, the wide streets and the numerous parks.

Thanks to Jaeger’s help, Stefan and I managed to climb up to the peripheral outdoors halls of the domes, where one has an unobstructed view in all directions. The plan was to stay there for about half an hour, while our friends would view the entry of the Lorffes underneath and would save us seats in the tiers of the large golden square.

When the last rays of the sun had faded, the oath began to sound. People were gathered there and in three more locations around the Valley. A great number of Ilectors along with the highest representatives of the Ministry addressed millions of young people who would soon begin their two-year service. They addressed them directly, but also the rest of the people indirectly. Thanks to their incredible sound systems, each phrase of the oath resonated across the Valley, but without hurting your ears. The oath was recited in the sui generis old language of the Ilectors

. Nevertheless, I did understand a few words: “For the homeland!”, “for the soul of the nation”, “for the pride of our ancestors”, “for our institutions”, “for the rise of the human spirit”, “for our culture”. And the young men and women repeated: “I swear!”

My lifeless pen is powerless to describe the power and energy of the moment. Following the oath, the children began to sing:

Beloved children from the distant past,

From those old times,

Join us today in the spring meadows

Let us free you from untold pains...

Deeply satisfied and with some kind of a secret pride, I grasped Stefan’s hand, striving to hide my emotion from others around me. They also sang two of Johannes Brahms’s compositions; “Lullaby” and “Sisters”! I secretly wiped a tear away before it rolled down my cheek. Then we all descended down to the ground floor hall-square, leaving in the middle of that magnificent spectacle.