2085 (5 page)

The clock read 9:05 am
that Monday. The last member of the elite group joining the urgently summoned assembly passed through the door of the meeting room for matters of high discretion, up on the 105th floor of the skyscraper. He hurried to his seat.

As the double door was closed, the man at the
table head glanced around, checking in his mind that everybody was there. Only one seat remained free, right at the opposite end.

N
ervousness was evident all around. It was easy to notice the empty seat. A deep silence in the place allowed listening even the slightest sounds produced by movements of the attendees.

The leader
opened the session:

“
Gentlemen, we have a dissident within our organization,” he started with the solemn tone characteristic to his speeches. You will notice that at this time he is absent. On Thursday afternoon he failed to show at his mental backup session. The protocol will be the usual one, with the sole exception that, because this time we are dealing with a member of the elite group, along with the elimination of the deserter we will immediately replace him. All procedures shall be punctiliously executed as stated in the manual. The Internal Security Central has started from Thursday night the routine suitable in these cases. The subject will be reinserted next week, as the reserve body won’t get to its maturity point until then. Pertinent information must be published in order to justify his absence during this week. No need to remind you that this is a matter of utmost priority. You should not circulate any information through the internal system nor discuss out of this room anything said about the case. We will conduct a follow up meeting every day of this week at four in the afternoon, starting today. This meeting has concluded.”

The leader stood up and left the room. The rest
of the attendees did the same not breaking the silence. The clock on the back wall did not read 9:10 yet.

At that same time Lucy was returning from her morning walk. This was her fourth day at the clinic and she was feeling great. So far she had been treated wonderfully. She had been told how her husband had stumbled and fallen down, ending with a fractured skull. She knew that while he was out of danger, some of his brain functions had become limited. The situation was not serious, but he should remain at this specialized clinic until modern medical techniques made him achieve a full recovery. At the same time, she should provide several mental backups to help rebuild the short-term memory loss of his partner.

She h
eeded the call without hesitation. She was happy to be of help on her husband’s recovery. She would go back home next Saturday and await the return of her man, scheduled for Sunday afternoon. By then he would be fully recovered from the mishap.

At the headquarters of the Internal Security Central the specialist on human source files reconstruction was working busily.

Modify
ing the information in a mental backup was a task bearing a high level of complexity. First of all, it was necessary to find the ideas that had overtaken the subject’s willpower and immediately neutralize them. This was, in itself, the most demanding portion of the procedure, and would take care of most of the available time. Then, essential memories had to be replanted to let the subject resume its activities, providing the missing history between the time of the most recently stored backup and the moment of replacement, plus the artificial memory of the alleged accident that would explain his absence to other people. The result should be a new version of the executive, this time fail proof, and it was mandatory that everything was ready by the following Friday. So was stated in the program made by the leader.

Inside a ruined chapel nestled in a distant forest, surrounded by high cliffs and deep gorges, the embers of the fire on which a coffee cup lay empty still smoked whimsically.

After
speeding to the neighboring town, some 125 miles away from his own, this unlikely hermit left his car to take the bullet train to his next stop in a mining center.

According to his calculations,
it would be by then when the alarm for his absence would be issued.

He
had managed to get a three hour lead, which he had seized to put 250 miles of distance between himself and his pursuers .

 
He lost no time to walk across the the bustling station’s hall, hiding from the crowd that rushed to and from the platform.

On weekend
afternoons, activity significantly increased at this place, making it easier to pass by unnoticed. This town’s trendy mine was owned by a rival corporation, so security personnel at this point would not receive the alert to look for him.

He exited
the station and headed towards the outskirts of the village. He was dressing like a hiker, which prevented him from attracting people’s attention as he looked just like dozens of others who wandered the streets in that place. The route he had planned began at a path just at the end of the main street. He reached this point in a few minutes, and then he went on with a walk that would last all night long.

At the beginning he had to
resort to a flashlight, but as soon as the moon appeared he no longer needed it. He turned it off to move with more discretion.

Dawn
found him walking yet, still having a short length to go before arriving at his first stop; an old barn that long ago had been used for grain storage. Right then he was expecting to see it at any moment.

Under the twilight
he approached the stream next to this long ago abandoned path. He got on his knees and sank his hands in the icy water for a drink. Memories of his early youth rushed through his mind; he used to spend weekends hunting, fishing and camping with his father in the countryside.

His face broke into a smile
arisen by pleasant yesteryear memories. The chilling contact with water, now wetting his face, made his memories fade away just as they had come.

The thick forest
echoed with birds’ warbling. A light mist lay everywhere, and the sky’s reddishness was quickly fading as the sun rose over the horizon.

As he
resumed the walk, his boots rubbing the tall grass restarted the rhythmic soundtrack that had accompanied his way during the last two hours.

The
feeling of having been set free that had filled him since the beginning of his journey, was only overshadowed by the uncertainty of events to come; however, fatigue was helping him to keep calm.

F
ifteen minutes later, the place where he intended to make his first stop became within sight. He unconsciously sped up his pace. He urgently needed to rest.

The
sudden loud sound of flapping gave him a fright when crossing the barn’s door. A flock of birds flew through the opening in the wall which had once been a window, kicking up dust and leaving behind a small cloud of feathers that swayed in the air to reach the ground. He planned to spend the day in this place and continue his journey at dusk.

He found a corner
safe from peeping glances and lay down wrapped in his sleeping bag. His whole body was aching, so he had some trouble to relax; however, as he did he fell in a deep sleep.

He had to get recovered
before the evening from the former night’s exercise, as it was essential to resume his path at dusk. His uncertain program forced him to increase by every possible minute his lead on his pursuers.

He
had slept ten straight hours when sunset light passing through the cracks in the ceiling hurt his eyes, forcing him to wake up with a grin. He had been dreaming on Lucy and their most recent vacation trip. It took him a while to become aware of the situation he was in.

He stood
up heavily. Previous hours’ fatigue had become now a general feeling of stiffness, which was making it hard to move. He had to make a great effort to start a calisthenics routine, stretching arms first and then legs, until the only discomfort left was the pricking feeling on his foot soles.

It took him t
hree more days to get to the small chapel. During this time his path did not cross with that of any human being. A feeling of loneliness filled him now, taking the place of that of freedom of the first hours of his journey.

This morning
he had woken up with a less aching body. While he was taking breakfast, in his mind he had finally understood why humans are so prone to sacrifice their personal calmness in exchange for company. He was feeling an urgency to meet with others of his kind. In the recent days he had only talked to himself. Now he was in the need of someone else to share the experiences he was living.

Fortunately, so far
, he had managed to precisely follow the plan. He was on the edge of a territory inhabited by a large community of the reaction bloc. He just had ahead one more day to go, in which he should travel along the canyon that lied right in front of him. At its opposite end he expected to make contact with other human beings.

He suddenly changed his mind and
decided to make the way in spite of daylight. After all, last night’s walk had lasted just a few hours. He put his belongings away and threw his backpack over his shoulder. This morning’s clouds, completely covering the sky, looked threatening. Rain could be a setback, however, the covered sky would let him travel protected from skin burning mountain sunlight.

He resumed his way
along the steep descending path that connected the chapel with the creek down in the canyon. The soil was loose and at every step pebbles came off to tumble and push others in their way to the bottom of the cliff. He kept his descent hesitating, stepping on this uncertain ground, until the uneasiness caused by the continuous slips of his boots made him stop and sit down. His heart was beating wildly. All of a sudden he had been seized by an uncontrollable panic attack. Physical injuries and death itself were fears left far behind in his life, but now, the idea of hurting himself and end up abandoned amid the immense solitude of the forest had paralyzed. His mind had been invaded by doubts:

“
Why am I here? How could I put myself in this situation? Hadn’t I a good life before leaving? What could have launched me into this adventure that now has me on the edge of danger? I cannot move, who will take me out of this place? My legs just don’t respond. I need to calm down. I am stranded. I must regain my ability to think. This is nothing more than a path that many others have traveled before me. If they could do it, I will make it too. Relax!”

For the next
minutes he strove to regain self-control. His mental training had been aimed to suppress thoughts discordant with of his former employer’s philosophy, but controlling his response to a situation of danger was a very different issue. He had not been prepared for this.

One step at a time,
he came back in control, until, first crawling and later standing up, he managed to get back on track. When he hit the bottom of the cliff his legs were trembling uncontrolled. He had to rest for a while.

He sat
down under the shade of a tree and started a review of recent events while waiting for his systems to be released from the fear that had caught him. It was only a matter of time to feel relieved.

When
he stood up again, his legs still responded clumsily. He had to walk for a while before everything had come back to normal.

He walked the rest of the morning
along the course of the stream. The thrill of sensing the finish line’s proximity began to take hold of him, until it turned into an overwhelming feeling of joy. He went raising his pace until the effect of the slope made his her walk become into a trot. His sweat was flowing in streams from his forehead and temples to roll down his cheeks and drip to the ground.

He had to stop a
fter a turn of the trail. The branches of a large bush were blocking his way. When he moved them apart he saw an immense valley that stretched beyond what the eye could reach. He was paralyzed by emotion. A slight sound came out from deep in his throat as the smile on his face grew and his eyes stared unblinking, as if he were absorbing the scene to let it completely take over him.

H
is personal version of the Promised Land was lying right ahead.

He walked the p
ath to the base of the mountain and stopped at a small pool of clear water, fed by the waterfall into which the stream he had followed all day long changed. He decided it was time to wash up. He smelled from previous days sweat buildup, and the dark shade on his face accounted for the days passed since his last shave.

W
ater was cold, this made his breathing paralyze when he plunged. He went back immediately to the bank to lather profusely. Then he stood on a rock and plunged again to rinse the soap, this time head first. He reached again the shore and sat on the same rock. The chattering of his teeth was uncontrollable. It would take him a while to recover his body heat, but it was worth it. This act symbolized a cleansing.

He i
ntended to enter his new world free in body and mind from all traces of the previous one.