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

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 myself 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