My judgment is still clear enough to point out to me that these mistaken ideas are pushing me towards idleness and submission to my fate, my doom growing closer by the second. But I won’t fall into the trap. My heart might have been sick and challenged and pained but, thank God, my brain is still strong and working properly. You, my Lord, chose a humble, unimportant man, a man that went and is still going through a severe illness, to show him a small bit of your eternal secrets. It’s you who decides what needs to be done on every occasion; I know it, I believe it. So please, give me the strength to finish what I started and relieve my burdened heart. Let the paper become my confessor and my savior!
Tuesday, April 24th
A while ago, my landlady, this amazing woman, knocked on my door to see if I needed anything and make sure everything was all right. Well, you won’t believe it, but I felt this sudden urge to take her in my arms and deliver her the great news - that I most certainly can do it! Because once again, I was given the chance to verify how excellent my memory skills are. After all the hardships and the suffering, it’s still here! I managed to put down on paper, word by word, complete stanzas of poems that I had never read or heard in my life, before Silvia recited them to me, that unforgettable night under the stars.
So what can possibly keep me from re-writing my lost pages, my memories from the future? I can definitely do it now! Any doubt I might have from here on, will merely be an unsound hesitation that I will have to fight against.
I don´t mind this cough tearing my insides apart or this fever burning this obnoxious carcass of a body. All these are not sufficient to put a shadow over the excitement that the prospect of completing my work gives me! The time might be limited but this will be my “future” from now on; and it will be the joyful re-writing of the manuscripts which were once ready but left behind… The same fate that doomed me gave me, now, in the end, this unique chance and I’m convinced that I can remember it all, page by page, if not word by word.
I stayed up late tonight and enjoyed my new “happiness”. I’m ecstatic! Nothing will be lost; from now on my short life won’t be empty anymore. I’ve got a new reason to live it!
My case has nothing to do with inspiration and creation. I was never blessed with such gifts -
and you can’t lose what you never had. My case is that of a traveler who never spoke about his adventures and who finally decided to break his silence.
I have no friends, my mother is dead. I’m completely alone in the world. So, whoever you are
- you who somehow, one day, will end up with my manuscripts, be my friend and understand me. Do not laugh and do not mock me. I’ve been tried and tested a lot in life. Everything you read, I’ve seen with my own eyes - I’ve lived it, I’ve touched it, I believe and I worship it all!
I’m not going back to my home country. I made my decision. I don’t need any obligatory, superficial relationships with the neighbors. I just want to tell my story in the most precise way possible; and I want to tell it till the end! (From here onwards, Paul Dienach re-writes the
diary that he kept in the future, trying to remember as accurately as possible whatever he had written in that diary)
Chronicles from the Future: Reborn – Aug
17 1923
August 17th 1923
It’s the twelfth day today and I’ve already started writing about it! Whatever happened to that combination of astonishment and horror of the first week, that religious awe in the sight of everything that, in the beginning, I considered supernatural? Where has the fear of losing my mind gone? All these mixed feelings lasted a lot less than expected. Here you have it then; man can, indeed, get used to anything! One will get accustomed to the most unbelievable things and will eventually return to their everyday routine.
(After a while)
Almighty God, the course that my life has taken was always planned by you and always your desire. All these days and nights, only my faith kept me from losing my mind over this incredible reality that I’ve been living in. Have mercy on me, my Lord, and don’t deny forgiveness to your unworthy servant!
(At night)
It’s been three days now since I managed to carry myself out of bed and noticed something unexpected: my pains have gone away and I was able to walk even during the first few hours.
The mirror is now the only reminder of the bandage that I still have wrapped around my head.
And if what they say is true, they’re going to remove it the day after tomorrow. Have I
recovered then? Can it be true? Am I not dead? Who could imagine and believe a miracle like this?
(Three hours later- dawn)
I even feel much better psychologically, after the soothing words of the doctors and my meeting yesterday with one of them, Johannes Jaeger. Before, my days and nights had been excruciating. The pain was nothing compared to the psychological torment I was going through - due to the inner conflict between a world of unbelievable things happening around me and the existence of another world inside me, one of different memories but nevertheless complete and clear.
My mature judgment, a result of my age, had taught me how to distinguish the real from the unreal and my exceptionally good memory was flooding my mind with images and events from my past, in sharp details, exactly as I had lived them. I was functioning perfectly, as I remembered myself. But so did all the crazy things around me…
I was certain it was me; on the verge of a nervous breakdown, but it was me! Once I was in the presence of the Ilectes* I fell down and started to cry, that’s all… And anyway, I don’t think that anyone could confidently say that they’d be able to control their nerves in such a situation. (*a term used for senior officials of the spiritual leadership, who had a special position in the social life of that future era)
These last few days I haven’t seen anybody else apart from the two doctors. The nurses were being kept away from me following the episode with the mirror, when I first saw my new face and lost it. The new doctor stood by me as a kind and skillful healer but also as a silent partner
who always avoided looking straight into my eyes whenever we were alone, and who always had a hint of agitation in his eyes.
The day before yesterday, the chief doctor, Professor Molsen, came unexpectedly to my chamber in the afternoon. He seemed more excited than usual. He told me to get up and, holding me by the arm, helped me walk to the adjoining living room. I realized at that moment that a whole world was opening up before me. Sometimes I find myself overpowered by a newfound infantile eagerness. I hadn’t felt so impatient since I was a little child!
I stood at the entrance for a while, looking at the living room. A strangely large room with all kinds of bizarre - for me – things and those tall transparent doors that offered a panoramic view of the lush countryside, the slopes of the mountains and beyond. Then I started walking again but not for long. Every two steps I stopped and peered about. At some point, I turned around and saw the doctor looking at me with a curious expression on his face, - I’ll never forget that look - but at that moment I didn’t care about anything.
It was neither gold nor gems, like in fairy tales, that amazed me. Everything there was made of a beautiful type of crystal dressed in perfect combinations of pastel colors; sky blue, green, white and red. Everything, from the tables and chairs to the stools and the frames, gave you the impression of a colorless metal on which a soft light flowed incessantly in harmonic waves. Everything was bright and clear; even the flower pots and the crystal blooming springs of the flowers. However, if you came too close, like a curious child, believing you would find something in that transparent panorama of colors, the touch would rectify that first impression and the surfaces of the seats would prove soft and warm.
The doctor didn’t rush me. Passing through the living room we found ourselves in a big hallway; that’s where I finally saw people again after the isolation of the past days. It was a spacious vestibule that led right to the enormous main terrace. It was afternoon and the place was filled with light. Doctors and nurses were quietly chatting to each other standing up. At the sight of the chief doctor they discreetly stood aside and made way for us to pass. While walking past them I heard them whisper that name again, the name that everyone kept repeating all these days when in my presence: “Andrew Northam.” I shivered. “Who is this Andrew Northam?” I wondered. The reality unfolds merciless before my eyes from all sides.
There only remains for me to admit, along with the doctors, this unprecedented thing happening to me, which exceeds even the wildest dreams of the most overactive imagination.
Chronicles from the Future: Meeting the
Leaders of the Future and Revealing his
True Identity
Across the hallway, in front of an extremely tall door, there were six boys and girls standing who, judging from their outfits, probably didn’t live in the institution. They had just arrived. I only saw them for a couple of seconds and I didn’t have the chance to meticulously observe them. They were teenagers, all of them with long hair à la page, with almost matching uniforms - in the same pastel color shades as the living room - and all of them with belts embroidered with silver thread and short silk shawls hanging from their waists. Although strangers, they were the ones to open the door for us to enter into the small living room.
Suddenly, the door shut behind us and, without anyone having told me anything, I foundmyself face to face with two Ilectors.
They looked at me in silence. Nobody else was there. To my surprise I saw Professor Molsenstanding opposite them in awe.
I felt my body failing me and I was unable to resist. I didn’t know if they were priests or kings but, these venerable figures, dressed in white, with their imposing appearance, impressed me
from the beginning. I saw them as a peaceful harbor for turbulent souls. I wanted to tell them everything right away.
I fell on my knees and in a quivering voice, I told them everything in between sobs. I was struggling to breathe every so often but my fervor and my yearning were so intense that I kept going. I had never felt like this, not even during confession. I was so shaken and upset that I couldn’t keep my narration in a chronological order but I managed to tell them the whole truth, little by little; and I think that the tone of clear sincerity in my voice, my nonlinear but otherwise coherent narration, my real thrill and the steadiness of my tearful gaze did not escape the grasp of the two elders.
While staring at me, their peaceful faces started to turn pale. No words could describe the expression of their eyes. I begged them to believe me. They gradually started asking me in broken German – the language I was speaking with them - a storm of questions concerning the place where I lived and my time. I explained everything straight up. I could see them getting more preoccupied by the minute by my foreign language speaking.
