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

It was neither the fairytale-like gold nor gems that amazed me. Everything there was made of a beautiful type of crystal in perfect combinations of pastel colours; sky blue, emerald green, milky white and rose red. Everything, from the tables and chairs to the stools and the frames, seemed to be made of a colourless metal on which a soft light flowed incessantly in harmonious waves. Everything was bright and clear, even the flower pots and the crystal sprigs of blooming flowers. However, if you came too close, like a curious child, believing you would find something in that transparent kaleidoscope of colours, the sense of touch would correct that first impression because the surfaces of the seats would prove soft and warm.

The physician didn’t rush me. Passing through the drawing room we found ourselves in a large hallway. That is where I finally saw people again after the isolation of the past days. It was a spacious vestibule that led directly to the enormous main terrace. It was afternoon and the place was filled with light. Physicians and nurses stood around quietly chatting to each other. At the sight of the chief physician they discreetly stood aside and made way for us to pass. While walking past them, I heard them whisper that name again, the name that everyone kept repeating all these days when in my presence: “Andreas Northam.” I shivered. “Who is this Andreas Northam?” I wondered. Reality mercilessly unfolds before my eyes in every direction. There only remains for me to accept, along with the physicians, this unprecedented thing happening to me, which exceeds even the wildest dreams of the most overactive imagination.

MEETING THE LEADERS OF THE FUTURE AND REVEALING HIS TRUE IDENTITY

Across the hallway, in front of an extremely tall door stood six boys and girls who, judging from their apparel, probably did not live in the institution. They had just arrived. I only saw them for a couple of seconds and didn’t have the chance to observe them meticulously. They were adolescents, all of them with long pageboy haircuts,

wearing almost matching uniforms, in the same pastel shades as the drawing room, and all of them wore belts embroidered with silver thread and short silk scarves tied around their waists. Though strangers, they were the ones to open the door for us to enter the small sitting room. Suddenly, the door shut behind us and, without anyone having told me anything, I found myself face to face with two Ilectors.

They looked at me in silence. Nobody else was present. To my surprise I saw Professor Molsen—who had brought me here—standing respectfully poised.

I felt my body and stamina failing me. I didn’t know if they were priests or kings but, these venerable figures, dressed in white, with their imposing appearance, impressed me from the start. I viewed them as a peaceful harbour for turbulent souls. I wanted to tell them everything immediately.

I fell at their knees and in a quivering voice told them everything in amongst sobs. I was struggling to breathe every so often, but my fervour and yearning were so intense that I carried on. I had never felt like this, not even during confession. I was so shaken and upset that I couldn’t keep my narration in chronological order, but I managed to tell them the whole truth, little by little; and I think that the tone of sincerity in my voice, in my nonlinear, but otherwise coherent narration, my apparent emotional upheaval and the steadiness of my tearful gaze did not escape the grasp of the two elders.

While staring at me, their peaceful faces started to turn pale. No words could describe the expression in their eyes. I begged them to believe me. They gradually started asking me in broken German—the language in which I was speaking to them—a storm of questions concerning the place where I lived and my time. I explained everything without circumlocution. I could see them growing more preoccupied by the minute by my foreign tongue.

I remember that for a moment I lost heart and almost broke down, but then I resumed answering all their questions as precisely as possible. I kept reassuring them of the truthfulness of my words, weeping with emotion, but also sorrow, for not being able to provide them with tangible proof.

In the end, these wise men believed me! Oh my God, they believed me! They lifted me up, sat me next to them and with that inexplicable air of profound blessedness and utter benevolence they looked at me and spoke to me as equals.

God bless them! Only he can repay them for the good they did me in those extremely difficult and bizarre moments.

I didn’t make out very much from their insights on “the narrow limits of human cognition” or ‘’the relativity of time and the potential existence of simultaneous time intervals”. Neither did I fully comprehend the concept of “the great and unified reality lying beyond the human perception of the past, present and future”.