Authors: Vasily Klyukin
Before
he entered the luxurious house, Isaac switched on the web camera that Bikie
attached to his sleeve. He said hello and immediately blurted out:
“How
are you doing? Still sitting here, turning musty? Look, I’m going to Paris, so
I decided to ask you to come along. Would you like to go to Paris, bro? Just
imagine, the evening, the Eiffel Tower glimmering with sparks of electricity,
you and me sitting in a street bar with a beer. Like in the good old…”
“Hi.
Isaac. Thanks for the invitation, but no, I don’t want to go,” said his old
friend, greeting him with a smile. “Come in!”
“Aw
come on, I can see you want to!” Isaac thought maybe he ought to pressure
Pascal a bit, he might succumb to persistence. He had never tried any
psychological tricks before.
“You
can see I want to? Nah, thanks, I don’t. Not really interested,” Pascal said
melancholically.
“I
tell you for sure, you are interested. When was the last time you got out of
this place?”
“Ages
ago, but why get out? It’s great here anyway,” Pascal replied with a polite
smile.
“No,
wait! Travelling is so much fun! Just imagine this: Paris, strolling along,
pretty college-girls sitting on lawns with heaps of books. And food! Isn’t it
delicious there? Remember that nice little restaurant we found once and it
turned out to be simply great? “
“I
remember. But no thanks, don’t hassle me.” Another smile. “Would you like
something?”
“Yes,
I would, actually. I would like to know is there anything at all that interests
you now.” Isaac was trying hard not to get wound up, but he was already
starting to feel angry.
“I
am interested in everything. There’s the TV, there’s food, there’re sports, I
can play football. Fresh air. I don’t understand why I should go anywhere.”
“But
it’s Paris, Pascal!”
“Well,
so what? There’s Moscow, too, London, New York. What next, should I travel to
all the cities in the world? What for?”
“Pascal,
this is a specific trip to Paris! And you should be interested if you’re
interested in everything, as you say. Let’s go, I guarantee you won’t regret
it.”
The
word “interested” was starting to make Isaac feel sick.
“That’s
right, I am interested in everything.”
“Then
let’s just go,” said Isaac, delighted that he had manipulated his friend’s
opinion so easily.
“No.”
“But
why not?”
“I
don't want to, and that’s it,” Pascal replied. “I have to call my
administrator.”
“No,
no, no …” Isaac protested, But Pascal was already dialing the number.
After
talking to his “nanny”, Pascal looked at Isaac with the smile still on his
face, blinked several times, either in apology or in attempt to force out a
speck that had got into his eye, and said:
“I
won’t go. My administrator says that the sanatoriums for Veggies in Paris are
worse than in Nice. Want a coffee? The broadcast of the Brazil-England game is
just about to begin. Do you want to stay and watch?”
“Total
déjà vu!” thought Isaac, remembering the time Pascal refused to
lend him money and sent him to the administrator, and she sent him back to
Pascal.
Isaac
made a final attempt, realizing that it bordered on insanity.
“Pascal,
would you like to stop being a Happy and become normal again?”
“Would
I like to? I don’t know. I guess not. Definitely not. I’m happy, everything is
just fine. I like my life very much, without that eternal searching for money
and the tiny, cheap apartment. I don’t see any point in changing everything
back.”
Isaac
was exhausted, he gulped down the coffee Pascal brought him and grimaced. Lousy
garbage, Decaf.
“Have
you regular coffee, with caffeine?”
“Caffeine’s
bad for you, Isaac. Everyone’s known that for ages.”
“Living’s
bad for you in general. You keep getting older.”
“Follow
a healthy lifestyle and you’ll live a long time.”
“You
say that as if you’re reciting propaganda.”
“But
it’s obvious, Isaac, look after your health. Why drink and eat what’s bad for
you and expose yourself to unnecessary risk? Live right and you’ll live to be a
hundred.”
Isaac
said goodbye and left. He promised to call in again after a couple of days.
Pascal smiled and said he was always glad to see his old friend.
“Isaac,
brother,” Bikie said after he heard the story of the failure with Pascal, “As
for me, I don’t see any problem here. Of course, you can study textbooks on
psychology, the latest articles on behavioral stereotypes of Veggies and search
through all sorts of bullshit. But I’d prescribe our patient with my perfectly
ordinary left hook. A minute of guaranteed blank brain, no broken bones, and a
slight headache.”
“I’m
not sure, Bikie…”
“As
a matter of fact, our professor is preparing a little something that is far
more terrifying than my fist. He and his assistant are putting together an
amplifier that will draw OE towards your astute friend. That’s the dangerous
crap here. If they fry your Pascal’s remaining brains, now that would be a
problem.”
Of
course, Isaac was worried about Pascal. However, this concern was mitigated by
the professor’s unshakable authority, his own strong desire to get his friend
back and the realization that there was simply no other way. He wanted to talk
about the risks with Link, but the professor announced that he wasn’t feeling
well and asked not to be disturbed.
All
said and done, Pascal was the only chance of getting the money for Vicky after
all.
It
was early evening. Isaac and Bikie drove out in professor’s van in the
direction of Pascal’s settlement. All bases were covered and the friends were
definitely counting on success. What would happen if the operation went wrong
was something they didn’t ask themselves.
It
was good they had Link. He immediately said that in any contingency, his house
in Sardinia was at their disposal. Could they hold out there for long? Link had
for seven years.
Isaac
was very focused and Bikie was as carefree as ever. The conversation was
circling around risks they were taking and their possible consequences. Bikie
told Isaac about Gregory Roberts, who escaped from an Australian prison and
lived in India for ten years. Roberts managed to hide from Interpol for all
that time, until he finally got caught in Europe and he had a Harley, too.
After he got caught and imprisoned, he wrote his autobiography entitled
Shantaram, which became an international bestseller, and he turned into a
living legend.
“My
god, haven’t you read Shantaram?”
“No,
I’ve never even heard of the book.”
“You’re
just an oaf who understands nothing about life. If you haven’t read it, you
live blindfolded. You don’t know how to spend your life.”
“I’ll
read it. I hope I won’t read it in the same place where he wrote it.”
“Don’t
shit yourself, Isaac. If anything, we’ll slip off to Link’s place and sort
things out there. This is what brains and unexpended creativity are for.”
“What
about Pascal?”
“What
about him? He’s already a Veggie, just might become a little bit more stupid.
He won’t even notice.”
The
prospect of Pascal losing his mind really frightened Isaac. Uneasily, he had to
admit that ending up in prison frightened him even more, though.
“By
the way, Isaac, I don't know what the law says about what we’re doing, it
probably doesn’t specifically mention artificially induced insanity. They’ll
probably just download us. But be sure, everything will go fine.”
“I
wish I had your confidence.”
“We’ll
live long, long lives as normal people, on the run, we’ll buy Harleys and we’ll
rob banks.”
“Don’t
talk garbage. It isn’t funny.”
“Just
please relax. Everything will work out fine. Don’t get scared, we’re almost
there.”
The
plan was this: the journey to Paris would take ten hours there and ten hours back.
Isaac would drive as far as Lyon while Bikie slept, then they would swap. When
they got there, they would tie Pascal to the seat, put the helmet on him and
hook up to the professor’s equipment. Then they would wake him so that his
magnetic field would be at maximum strength. They would pump in the creativity
quickly and give Pascal another injection to make him sleep for a couple of
hours. Bikie would then drive them back. Isaac had to be there beside Pascal at
the moment when he finally woke up, just in case. They had a first aid kit
ready in the van, and a defibrillator, in case Pascal’s heart stopped. No one
knew how the body would react to the return of OE, so they’d decided to take
everything for an emergency.
The
van drove up to the house and Isaac got out. He decided to go in alone in order
not to rouse any suspicion and not drag everyone into jail with him if things
went wrong.
In
one hand he had a syringe with a strong sedative. The dose was calculated for
eight hours, precisely for the drive to Paris. In his pocket, he had a note for
the administrator, which he had written in Pascal’s name: “I’ll be back late.
I’m going to play soccer and watch a film”. Isaac pushed the front door gently.
It wasn’t locked and opened almost soundlessly.
Walking
through quietly into the sitting room, he saw Pascal, who was sitting on the
sofa, watching TV. The program was about the successful testing of the new
generation of hydrogen-powered engines. Pascal was watching with interest.
Creeping
up from behind, Isaac grabbed Pascal’s head, swung his hand precisely and sank
the syringe into his neck.
After
the injection, Pascal broke free, turned round and stared at Isaac. He even had
time to smile, not realizing what had happened, but he immediately grimaced in
pain and grabbed hold of his neck. The next moment his face relaxed, his eyes
closed and his body went limp. A few seconds later he was soundly asleep.
Isaac
whistled to Bikie and they carried Pascal to the van. They sped off to the spot
where Link and Red Beard were waiting. The professor leapt into the passenger
seat beside Isaac and the assistant got into the back beside Pascal, who was
sleeping sweetly.
“How
did it go?” Link asked.
“Smoothly,”
Isaac replied. “Let’s go.” The van set off.
Link’s
eyes were glittering insanely in anticipation of the experiment that he had
dreamed of for so long. That kind of insanity probably comes over all
scientists on the threshold of important discoveries.
They
drove fast but without exceeding the speed limit. Bikie wasn’t able to get to
sleep – the van swayed on the bends. Pascal’s sleeping body swung about in the
back so Red Beard had to hold him with both arms.
“Isaac
you actually aren’t such a soft touch as you seem, - said Bikie looking at
unconscious Pascal. “ Good thing I’m not your old friend.”
“I
thought you were for it?”
“I
still am. Your obsessive persistence and your toughness on the verge of cruelty
both scare and fascinate me. When it is needed, you are like that. Well, I
guess all leaders are.”
Isaac
didn’t like those words at all. It was easy just to speculate when someone else
was there to make tough decisions.
“Everything
is fine, Isaac, bro. Cheer up! I would do the same. It’s just that you have
more balls. And this is a compliment indeed, don’t you think so?”
Isaac
actually was feeling quite uneasy. He didn’t show it, but the doubts were
there. He didn’t know if it was the right thing to risk Pascal like this, or
destroy it all. He didn’t have a clue what those people wanted: freedom in
poverty or well-doing dumbness? He couldn’t afford to show his uncertainty
though this way he would risk destroying the team which was supported by the
only one thing: distinct goal.
The
highway to Marseille ran along the shoreline, then turned uphill in the
direction of Lyon. The sunset was bright orange again, like on the first day at
Wolanski’s villa. Isaac saw this as a hopeful sign. It looked like orange
energy spilled out across the entire vault of the sky! Beautiful! But the
conspirators couldn’t really afford to admire the sunset. Driving past Avignon,
Isaac couldn’t help recalling the words of a simple prayer, and he whispered
them soundlessly, barely moving his lips. There was a papal residence here
once.
The
sun quickly disappeared and evening set in. On the whole, the journey was going
well, with no incidents. Soon Lyon came into sight and they had a bite at a gas
station in the town.
Bikie
replaced Isaac at the wheel. Exhausted by the monotonous journey, Isaac fell
asleep immediately. They only woke him up after the signpost saying there were
sixty kilometers away from Paris. It was almost four in the morning, in two
hours it would start to get light.
After
some hot coffee from a thermos flask, Isaac moved into the front beside Bikie.
In the windscreen, a searchlight ran along the horizon, shining upwards and to
one side from somewhere. There was still quite a distance left to Paris, but
the Eiffel Tower was already announcing its presence. “A ray of light, cutting
through the darkness. Yet another optimistic omen,” Isaac noted to himself.
The
Eiffel Tower was built for the 100th anniversary of the 1789 French Revolution.
Even back in school, Isaac had liked that date, because it was easy to
remember: seven, eight, and nine, like a sequence. In honor of the anniversary of
the American Revolution, France gave the USA another towering monument: the
Statue of Liberty. Gustave Eiffel was involved in creating that, too.
“Revolutions, revolutions, and what date is it now, is it easy to remember?”
Isaac thought and laughed. “What if the school kids of the future would have to
learn it by heart, too?”
As
a matter of fact, when the Eiffel Tower was built, many people objected and
attacked the project. Three hundred famous individuals, including Guy de
Maupassant and Alexandre Dumas, demanded the removal of the structure, calling
it an ugly iron monster. Fortunately, no one listened to them and thank God.
How could you possibly imagine Paris now without its most important symbol?
“People, even the clever and talented ones, can make mistakes and take the
wrong attitude towards innovations,” Isaac pondered. “We will give Pascal his
creativity back and find out if we are right or not in just a few hours, I
hope.”
Half
an hour later, Bikie turned towards Versailles, close to where Europe’s main OE
server was located. The little LED display on Link’s device started blinking,
indicating that there was a major OE source nearby. Link put the helmet on
Pascal and his assistant switched on the download system.
“No
connection yet. We need to drive closer,” Redbeard said. “Northwards.”
The
location of the reservoir was no secret, there were even signs on the road. For
safety reasons, they wanted to try downloading Pascal’s energy from as far away
as possible to minimize the chance of being noticed.
The
steady connection couldn’t be obtained just that easily, and eventually, the
van drove up quite close to the server building. It was guarded, but not a
military site, thank God. Only the fence around the facility was kept under
surveillance. They drove around until they found a spot with a more stable
connection, got off the road into a car park and switched off the engine. Bikie
and Isaac moved to the back of the van with everyone else. Pascal was sleeping
peacefully. Link finally adjusted the receiver on his helmet and they heard a
long squeak.
“It’s
time! We have a steady signal,” Link declared, picking up a dictaphone. “Test
OE scan number one. Subject Pascal Dean, twenty-eight years of age. Physical
condition normal, no apparent medical conditions. Distance from the reservoir
approximately four hundred meters. Visible interference hazards: a concrete
wall and metal fence. Internal obstructions unknown. The output of connected
battery – two kilowatts. Check the straps,” Link added. “One minute remaining.
Hold him, just in case.”
Pascal
lay there, strapped to the seat. He was firmly tied, but crude force might
still be required to deal with… no one knew what. Redbeard directed the
range-finder towards the storage server, increasing the signal power again.
“Thirty
seconds! Ten… Five… Go!”
“Input
download initiated,” Redbeard announced, keeping his eyes fixed on the helmet
indicator.
Isaac
and Bikie held Pascal’s arms and legs. The helmet started buzzing. Pascal
shuddered but didn’t wake up.
“Download
interrupted. We’ve lost the signal. The signal’s back.” Link exchanged curt
phrases with Redbeard.
“Test
number two. Increasing power output to four kilowatts.” Link made a second
attempt, recording everything on the dictaphone.
The
second attempt was unsuccessful too.
“Test
three. Maximum battery power at six kilowatts.” Link turned the switch again.
Pascal
jerked abruptly, the suddenness of it frightened the guys and they pressed him
down harder against the seat. Pascal tried to shout something and groaned
harshly. But this attempt failed, too.
Redbeard
took a tee-shirt out from somewhere, folded it silently into a gag and stuffed
it in Pascal’s mouth. Frightened, Pascal writhed about in the seat like a
grass-snake. He couldn’t see anyone or understand what was happening to him
because the helmet covered his eyes.
“Link,
let me give him an injection to make him sleep!” Isaac shouted.
“No,
don’t! We’re not getting anywhere as it is. When he’s asleep, there’s less
chance, his brain became active just now and his magnetic field strengthened.
So we’ll have to wake him up.”
“Is
it working for us?”
“No.
The power’s too low. Bikie, quick, remove the backup car battery and bring it
over. Isaac, climb up on the roof and install the range finder higher than the
fence, point it at the biggest window in the building. Quick, before your
friend goes totally gaga!”
Two
minutes later they were all back together.
“Some
might not get a second chance. Let me fill you in on the situation. Last time
we almost succeeded in returning his OE, now I’m going to double the power.
That’s slightly more than the calculated safe level. I don’t know for certain
what will happen to his brain afterwards. He could even die. So if anyone is
against it, speak up now. I think it is worth a try.”
“Go
for it!” said Bikie, large drops of sweat streaming down his face. “Let’s take
a chance!”
“Fuck!”
Isaac groaned and pressed Pascal down harder against the seat.