Eaux top
In the bowl of amniotic fluid, his breath is short. My haggard. Hard to recognize and accoutrements. This sort of trance worrying me freezes, force to secure the device aqueous ensures the survival of my husband.
Floating soft like a dead fish which they would have fixed a few electrodes to any experience, I wonder if he still is there. It seems so unreal, with its translucent skin - which was once a golden brown like all South Americans. I dig into the pocket of my coat. There is still the capsule recording that I had sent by express from New Havana. Apart from this gelatinous body, the brain changes so low you might think fast photosynthesis is all I have left of him. That and the other.
My thumb presses the small round key and hologram starts instantly replay for the first time his message.
Friday, July 18 3022:
- Happy birthday, mi amor!
I plunged my gaze in her large hazel eyes, overshadowed by the scenery surrounding the hospital. A ball of mixed emotions forms in my throat. The clouded mind, just listening to the message that I know by heart. I distinguish the uniform of the rider and multiple logos of sponsors.
He recorded this message the first day of testing, to reconcile us. He finished first that day. News, while the Fuego had just landed on the airstrip, he shouted to anyone who will listen that this exploit lunar was for us both. Me, I gnawed my brake yet, forced to complete rest in this big empty house. That day, I would have slapped him! Take such risks to impress a woman was manly, but so stupid.
The Fuego fire. That was what had led all these years. This also fueled our relationship. It is also the heap of metal with his damn free energy reactor which had brought my husband in this state.
It may sound selfish, but I wish he was wounded by a gunshot gamma during a hostage rather than that. At least, I would not have had to forgive him.
The International Formula Astro had been able to identify the cause of the accident: an asteroid drifting in the wrong place at the wrong time. I could almost be grateful to them if I did not feel much aversion to the sport stupid.
At one time, the races were done on Earth. The security system was not quite like today, when the pilots did not have many options and they won, lost, abandoned or died. It was honest.
Now you can bring any broken man in space and adequate treatment, provided that the nervous system can still work.
A nurse-droid passes near the tank. It's a great relief for me who can not bear the sight of nurses and doctors humans.
- Mrs. Garcia, it's time ...
The doctor surprised me in my distress. His sad eyes, deep. In a split second, I guess it is secured. He knows the torment within Me.
- As you know, if you prefer ... we can always ...
He hesitates. It's his first time. Strangely, all anger, all pain has just disappeared in the depths of my heart. I feel calm and I know it's the right decision. That is what Ernesto does. I can not explain it: I know, that's all. J'opine and put my gloved hand on the young doctor. Cold limbs droids activated smoothly. Each electrode was removed, each connected with a grace fascinating. In my hand, the holographic message is nearing completion:
- Take good care of you, mi amor ... And take good care manual for me. I love them both.
The message ends.
While a ballet mechanically activated to drain the remaining amniotic fluid in the pelvis, although I caress my belly ring. And it is at this precise moment that the amnion the opportunity to break his turn. Manuel arrives, his father left us. Her fragmented body before our very eyes, in thousands of fine particles.
On my shoes, I note the presence of many residues, those in the path he traveled. I feel on my skin as the wind rises, the breeze becoming more and more violent. The dust begins to stir, then some fly, animated by a life of its own. Manuel, who do not yet understand why his father has divorced, looking at us with bulging eyes as astonished.
Leaning close to the ground, I explain.
- Unable to escape the epidemic. Sooner or later, the division will start for us.
Manual swallowed painfully. My sister, who had remained silent so far, just join us.
- But yet he did nothing special! He had not even touched the poisonous plants. Not to mention that all the surrounding trees were razed to lessen the risk of contagion ...
- I know, Eliane, but remember that pollen still continues to spread .
I heaved a sigh of despair. Manuel, pale complexion, managed to stammer his first words.
- We must leave immediately.
He made a gesture to lean toward what remains of his father, ostensibly to gather them in his backpack, which he opened. Eliane attempts to restrain him. Too late. The Manual outlines blurred as his hands clasping the particles father, he drowns in tears green. His fingers have already begun to shrink, to become more and more applications, such long roots. He continues to cry, and water causes an unusual reaction on the residues of the flesh, who quit a time of swirling, miniature frozen in a pond.
Frozen mirror. Our disinterest is exemplary and we both know that death here is gone. The sharp voice of Eliane.
- A long time ago that the rain did not come here ...
His observation paralyzes me. I live a long time without moving, trying to remember when was the last time I felt the water pounding against the windows of my room. The space of a heartbeat, a thought terrifies me: to be born during the last rain.
A small drop of rain had fallen on my hand causing shock wave throughout my life. A major recall, despite the oblivion that had hidden - which still covers part of it.
Shortness of breath, I cling to this moment, this break point in time, this passage from which the real issue was closed. How such a small bead of light could she have so much affect my future? Without physical location, or benchmarks to enable archiving.
Then time resumed its course. It was so simple. Unable to deny the obvious. I am not what I thought. Something else. That other, perhaps. The outcome of an atrocious time, one of the children of falsehood which had been removed at birth.
Eliane did not notice the subtle change in my approach, suddenly heavy, thick, absorbing the colors, my overwhelming pride. I was away from her now. I narrated us. Why had not I thought of it sooner? I who wanted above all, I thought having so much control and power, I found myself severely reduced the fragility of our company.
my feet on a route that loses meaning with each new not, while my mind is crumbling. How my mother she had been keeping a terrible secret? His fake smiles and she encouraged me to pursue research. All this time wasted, all these books, all these trips. Throughout my life I looked for my father. To discover that I was hunting a shadow. He was of public interest that those born in the rain for themselves.
I felt dizzy considering the magnitude of what I started, then another even more terrible vertigo at the thought that everything was in vain. She still did not notice nothing. The long narrow corridors of my life - it was endorsed by dint follow me - seemed to tangle, bend in all directions to end suddenly, between two voids. A frenzied nothingness.
long effort to locate this obscure little note in a commentary on Aristotle's Physics, translated from Greek to Arabic and from Latin to French, from hand to hand, staying a few decades at the bottom of a trunk, sold in a market area by the ignorant children of a scientist died in anonymity, purchased for its fine leather cover with a collector who knew nothing, who made himself donation at the end of his life in a university where it was stored for over a hundred years before a disembodied hand recounts do. And what I discovered her secret.
This little note had the power to change the world, to rewrite history. Change backgrounds, but especially after them. A note that was expecting her herald, someone who can show the world and reveal its true value. We wanted to be me.
But how important was this note for me now? Now I was not, or maybe more. My story transfigured by Manuel, the rain had made the herald of the secret of my own home.
Everything depended on sources: Either they were the premise of my entire life and I found myself not to give any importance to this note, or they had never expected in my development and the note had had a factitious importance to the one I had been. Certainly, this note was indeed real. It was to be absorbed. Do not fall into the gap that separated us. Cling to reality.
And cursed cracked asphalt path which I came burned our feet for months, me and my sister. The main road of the Atlantic had proved even more challenging for our horses. The slopes were so steep and the terrain so rugged that most of the time, we should resolve to walk beside them. My precious steed, my only friend, what would I do without him?
As high in the north, the villages were scarce, food was not found. For a week we eat plants and dried flowers. Our provisions were been insufficient. Winter was approaching, the nights were cold, and I did not know if I would manage. But I kept my doubts for me. My sister seemed so motivated. The previous night, we slept in a service station - a fluke. The old buildings had all been destroyed or eroded by the epidemic. Corpses and animal carcasses littered the edges at all times of the road. We did not even bother to bury them. Fetid odor that I never get used.
My ancestors had once occupied this land of death. The writings spoke of Water and valleys golden. But this area was more like hell than any paradise lost. Nothing to reassure the foundation of our mission. Could we trust a piece of paper written there was all this for decades, maybe more? In my community, we thought so. Curious state of things that do little more reassured me, I must admit.
Is this road was truly my destiny? Is this land was a carrier of my origins? Y would I find the answers? Future? I sank more and more the impression of going in front of misfortune came over me. I'm the chosen one, my skepticism peaked.
But the point of no return was passed long ago. No question of going back. This road was still our best option. Or so that Eliane believed her. "The devil's alternative" that I had replied. But a sister was brimming with confidence that I did not understand, and she had ignored my comment, as always.
We leading to an endless valley where I met the famous eye tree stump split on which was inscribed in large letters WENDAKE engraved knife. Eliane refrained to do not shed a tear. The emotion that had crossed the pride of our nation. She had succeeded. Itself felt full of pride against the prophetic appearance. But with only one piece of wood to prove all the writing, we were still counting!
My brother reminded me of the case:
- I am the matron! she threw this peremptory tone that was his. From here, and until we reach the Huron Village, you get seats behind me and you do not say a word.
Eliane loved to avail itself of its status as elder sister, and although all her life she immediately concédât my unique role for the world would she sold a strand of his prerogative as matron of the mission foreshadowed the Huron . As predicted, we were greeted by great kings and the meal was dressed according to our desires.
After the meal, while the smell of fried duck dissipated slowly, I managed to get permission to explore the cave of Satan. From a smile, I thanked Eliane and alcohol. It was time.
My glass of wine over, I rose from the table. Employees gathered for the occasion, do not bore attention to my flight.
Guarded by two Huron half drunk, the cave entrance was welcoming and stimulating, dimly lit by chandeliers. I slipped behind the men on tiptoe.
When the mission entrusted to me - before we left - the wise men of our tribe, I cautioned against the paths already traced: I had heard the legend in all its horror, as great it may be. But naturally curious, I always loved the legends and myths. And I also knew that the stories could not survive without mysteries.
Often, the legends reflect the character of a tribe and culture of a population. The low profile Eliane imposed on me that I used. An asset on which I often inseparable wagered during our pilgrimages.
I plunged a hand into the pocket of my coat and took the old flashlight, the last vestige of my great uncle died during the previous summer. Killed by the sea one wave. At least, according to the official story.
A penetrating damp and silence disturbed some echoes of voices. No trace of fear, since a lot of confidence in me. My whole life had led me there and I should fail. I stood still vigilant. The grotto of Satan was surely not an appellation to be taken with a grain of salt. Must say that the experience gained during my previous quests played a key role in controlling my emotions.
Later, I noticed that my body softened. Without me realize I had driven several feet into the ground. The oxygen was scarce. When I tried to retrace the path, I heard footsteps. Not an army, but certainly a group. Just enough time to achieve anything, one shot obscures my vision.
When I came to myself, my legs were attached to the rock by a string. I was not alone. To my surprise, Eliane and employees at his pay was in a position similar to mine.
The dry throat, I coughed a sentence. No response. A sweet caress came my nostrils. After a while I realized that we were trapped in a kind of dungeon. Like animals.
Nothing, except the patience to pick. And still no one dared speak. With an unruffled composure, I took my notebook and travel to transcribing my notes of travel to the sounds of crackling fire, the other side. Fire that surely accompany my death.
In conclusion, I can confirm that - as I see employees go - the legend is true. The monster of the cave is actually sustains humans. In fact, it would be more appropriate to speak of many monsters. Human cannibals. I shall, as a final contribution to humanity, the Huron-monsters.
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