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

The most exciting thing for me is riding their flying vehicles, the linsens. Today we went to Orta, an experimental nursery spanning a thousand acres, surrounded by elms, at the centre of which were six ancient marble seats. There we sat, in "our own living room" as Sylvia jokingly called it. She now regrets having refused Andreas’ love and affection in the past. She felt that, because of her, they had wasted too much time and missed too many precious moments. And on the other hand, look at the position I am in: she’s opening her heart to me and I can tell her nothing. So I just sit there, answering mechanically and using the few things I know about Northam from Stefan to answer her. And, in the end, in order to escape her constant questions, I keep saying, “Sylvia, believe me. I don’t remember anything else.”

I’m ashamed of myself. But Stefan told me a few days ago, “There is no other way for now. Remember, it was you who asked for it to stay a secret. But, apart from that, Rosernes Dal—the Valley of the Roses—has not yet reached any conclusion regarding your case.”

TRIP TO THE WEST COAST OF ITALY: AN ENDLESS, GLOBAL HOLIDAY RESORT

Salerno, 6-X

We’ve only been here in the South since last night. We delayed it a little on purpose to avoid the huge crowds flocking here for the “summer celebrations”. We’re staying on the third floor of one the huge hotels of New Youthsmile. We booked the whole floor because six more friends are coming. Among them is Diseny, one of the most famous young physicians, and the painter Syld, Aria’s friend, a nice, quiet and modest blond man in his thirties dressed in dark clothes that contrasted with his blue, day-dreaming eyes.

From what I understood from the others’ behaviour towards them, they must consider the physician and the artist as the “stars” of the group, but the latter seem to have no clue about it. They always talk in a simple, down-to-earth way about various things, but never about their work.

Seeing the west coast of Italy from above, I noticed that it is now, from one coast to the other, built with huge hotels that make it seem like an endless resort. The place names change every so often and in many areas they’ve kept the ancient names that now sound rather strange next to the newer and more poetic ones: Scarlet Rivershore, Seaside of Joy, Small Blomsterfor, Blue Lily, Diamondstones of Midnight, Resenfarvet. Yet, neither the form nor the consistency of this vast state changes anywhere; it stretches eternally into the horizon. There were thousands of gigantic palaces for travellers, but not a trace of residential homes or churches or institutions or schools and industrial and scientific facilities—only these huge hotels and youth centres (larinters

and civesheims they’re called), built between quays and parks, vast sandy beaches and harbours. Each of these palaces of the Cives—the citizens—was a separate rectangular building adorned perimetrically with a type of bright crystals that reflected the rays of the sun, gathered throughout the day. And they were so bright you could see them from the night sky.

The architectural styles varied, but the whole was perfectly harmonious. Yes, here I do feel like I’m in one of their largest urban centres. Even when I’m alone in my room, in complete silence, I can almost hear the hustle and bustle of millions of travellers visiting this vast, seaside resort every day. 7-X

And whilst here you feel the pure joy of life to an incredible extent—compared to our time—the things they do and the way they do them do not differ that much from ours. At sunrise, I saw thousands of people standing outside their gigantic hotels holding crystal mugs filled with water and fruit and gazing at the incredible view. Below us, in the courts and fields, you could see young people playing sports and ball games. Close by, at the parks and beaches, people were strolling, swimming and having picnics, exactly like us.

Silvia and I took quite a long walk. Stefan and Hilda were further ahead. She told me that for the first time, these days, she has come to know herself in all its depth. She discovered a kind of peacefulness inside of her that she never thought she had. I didn’t know how to reply to that so I just clasped her hand and kept walking.

“I can finally appreciate songs! I can finally identify with their meaning!” she added. Even the changes of the seasons bring me an inner sense of joy. I remember I felt this only up until the age of fifteen. Then it disappeared. Until now.”

I still haven’t touched her, nor do I think about her naked body. We’re both still in that first stage of deep and true love, where feelings manifest themselves purely in the heart and not in the flesh.

THE ESSENCE OF SAMITH AND “DIRECT KNOWLEDGE”7-X Again

(After midnight)