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

The thing that leaves you speechless in Norfor is the massive districts-cities that, fringed with vast green spaces, succeed one another. Each of them is bigger than the Rome or Venice of our time. When I was there, I felt like I was a peer of Aristotle who suddenly found himself in an American metropolis. There was, however, a harmony and a balance between the quaint ambience and the incredibly enormous architectural constructions that surpass human imagination. College campuses surrounded by gardens, theatres, museums, libraries, and thousands of, unknown to me, institutes stretching for mile upon mile.

No matter how hard I strive, I will never manage to get the point of this vast metropolis or grasp its deeper meaning and that’s because my soul lacks guidance and a preparation of whole generations. Unlike them, the voice of their ancestors doesn’t echo in my ears and their spirit doesn’t live in me.

THE INTERROGATION: VISIT TO NORTHAM’S WORKPLACE

I think that my first contact with Norfor, that panoramic view of it from the hill of Vikingaand was the most comprehensive of all my impressions of this vast state. The very few days that I stayed there, Stefan looked baffled and distracted by the endless debates with Jaeger and four other foreigners. They actually seemed more like interrogations than conversations since poor Stefan had to answer everything and in as much detail as possible and give explanations over past “reports” on me and my case. So he didn’t even have the time to show me around the city. I have the feeling that this whole trip was planned exclusively for these foreigners, so that they could satisfy their curiosity.

They made me spend almost my entire time in the scientific lab where Northam used to work, up until a few years ago. At least I felt comfortable in there and got used to it quite easily, so I didn’t have to chase Stefan around all the time. They used to take me there after the personal labs of the researchers had closed and leave me for quite a while in Northam’s long-abandoned office among the piles of his old papers in the event that I remembered something.

I spent many hours locked inside those huge walls of the amphitheatre. Standing in front of me with some kind of a notebook were the foreigners, taking notes and trying to make me remember. And the more it became obvious that these places reminded me of nothing, the more sceptical became the blond forty-year-old who was wearing the official toga and the Tilteys’ belt, signifying his place as a mid-ranking official in their spiritual hierarchy. Both he and his companion, whose name was Stirlen as I heard, were unsuccessfully trying to hide their disappointment. This was in sharp contrast to Jaeger’s kind, patient smile and to the serene expression of faith of the others.

On the last day, a few hours before departure, they brought me a young, pale and slim, grey-eyed man, around twenty years old. His name was Alex Wettel Smith and he had just come from the Baltic countries on Stirlen’s invitation. Even though he looked tired, the second he arrived, he came and stood next to me, smiling and ignoring everyone else. I remember his name so well because I had heard that, without him, Northam wouldn’t have survived the accident. The damage would have been much worse if Alex hadn’t been near him. He had realised what was about to happen and in a fraction of a second he had thrown himself in front of Andreas in order to save the scientist he regarded so highly. He had just been discharged from the orthopaedic-surgical clinic on the shores of the Baltic a few weeks ago, where he had been hospitalised for months. It was a miracle that he survived. Yet another miracle…

Since the morning I had been hearing that the wise man with the toga and the other one, Stirlen, were basing their hopes on my “reunion” with Alex Wettel Smith. They were hoping that his image would work as a shock that would restore part of my memory since it was the last image that Northam had seen before the crash. Of course, he didn’t remind me of anything… It was the first time I ever saw the man. They made him stay with us for over an hour and a half to talk to me about past incidents and that fateful trip.

Then, they asked me if I could remember among whom I was sitting directly before the accident. I reassured them that I didn’t remember anything before waking up in the Molsen Institute. The next thing they obsessed about was my lack of sleep. They said it was impossible that I had been awake since then and kept asking me if, even for a couple of seconds, I had slept. They were pushing me to do my best to remember a dream, any dream I might have had, even the silliest and most insignificant one. I calmly replied to them that I knew full well that I had not slept at all, not a wink.