 
### Software Evolution

by John Fajo

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 1995, 2012

Proofreading: Corrin Pitluck (2012)

Cover design, editing and short intro: Csaba Mengyan (2012)

For correspondence write to johnfajo@zoho.com

License Notes

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage everyone to download their own copy **.**

Chapter 1: The Inspector

The train whistled as it arrived at its destination. He looked out of the compartment's window, watched the grey skyscrapers in the distance as the train rolled into the huge railway station. This was the city, indeed, he thought while feasting his eyes on the surroundings.

The railway station was a city inside the city with its own rules and inhabitants. The train disappeared in a forest of other trains. He could see nothing but the sides of trains on the left and on the right, and an intricate and sophisticated glass roof through which he believed to have glimpsed the sun. Otherwise he couldn't see anything, he felt as if he was in a tunnel. He heard the muffled sounds of the loudspeakers as arrivals and departures were announced incessantly. He wasn't able to understand the announcements word for word but he gathered the one relating to his train's arrival must have been among them.

However, he wasn't allowed to dwell on that subject, for he had a tremendous trunk to take care of. He felt the train slowly decelerating, and finally, with a jerk, coming to a halt. He struggled to lower the trunk from the storage rack situated above his head, and had at the end, succeeded. Then he seated himself and tried to catch his breath while observing the square-like platform swarming with people outside. He wasn't used to all the commotion he now perceived. For a moment, he had the sensation of being a tiny ant of no more importance than the others but then he reminded himself that he was the inspector. The tumult without certainly had a negative effect on him, and his self-esteem was brought to ground level from great heights. To pierce through this crowd with the trunk successfully seemed an impossible feat, he thought, and thus decided to first seek out a trolley.

After closing his compartment, he stepped down onto the pavement to be immediately absorbed by a train of human mass flowing opposite the direction he had wished to go. He was a patient fellow and realized there was no use pushing against the crowd. He could only get hurt. Thus, he aligned himself with the masses and hoped that an opportunity would present itself whereby he could turn back. He saw a number of trolleys along the way; they were usually packed in groups at the middle of the platform. But there was no way he could get to them, the tide pushed him forward, and he could advance but a few meters diagonally. It was therefore to his astonishment that suddenly the crowd dispersed near the main entrance of the railway station. He was free to navigate anywhere, and after securing a trolley, he headed back to his compartment for his trunk. In it, he had all the necessities of life and all his possessions. Therefore, he was eager to get back as soon as possible and pushed his way through the crowd aggressively. This haste was in vain though, for he found his compartment empty. He stood there not being able to comprehend the entirety of the blow he had suffered.

He hadn't the faintest idea how long he grieved over the disappearance of his trunk. Certainly, it must have been some time, for a railway worker entered his compartment and said: "Sir, you must disembark." Then seeing his countenance he added: "Did something happen? Can I assist you in any way?"

"My trunk," he murmured. "I was in search of a trolley and when I got back it was gone. It must have been stolen," he said sadly, simply staring ahead.

"Not necessarily," answered the railway worker. "There is a good chance that it might have been taken by the attendants seeing the trunk deserted. There is a central inquiry hall for lost objects." The railway worker hesitated for a moment. "I could take you there."

This gave him some hope and he finally gathered himself. He thanked the railway worker. They went together to the central inquiry hall. There the railway worker said: "I must get back to my work", and looked at him with demanding eyes. He tipped his guide and groaned for a while even though he had known since his departure that this would be what he could expect.

In the meantime he went to an attendant, who sat by a desk dressed conspicuously in a red suit typical of attendants, and seemed to be profoundly absorbed doing paperwork. He couldn't hide a haughty smile at the manifestation of such idleness. The attendant glimpsed at him realizing that he was approaching and seeing that lofty expression on his face dived into paperwork with an even greater intensity. He coughed in order to draw the attendant's attention. But the red suited person was too busy doing nothing. Finally, he broke the deadlock by placing a certain amount of money in front of the attendant, who became all ears at once.

"I am looking for a huge blue trunk, which might have been taken by your co-workers," he said briefly and full of expectation.

The attendant quickly typed something into a computer on the desk. He awaited the result with trembling heart. Then, after a short while, the attendant informed him with a dubious and rather menacing smile that his trunk, indeed, had been taken by railway workers on a request from the police department. He looked perplexed.

"On what grounds?" he asked angrily.

"I haven't the faintest idea," rejoined the attendant.

"When and where can I get it back?" he sounded more deferential now.

A shrug of the shoulders was the answer from the attendant. He shook his head in complete frustration. He paced out of the inquiry hall, beaten before he could start his work. There was no doubt in his mind that the baron was behind this trunk business. The very man he had to find. He couldn't resist a smile. It seemed the baron had managed to trace him without delay. Of course, the man could use all his connections and vast resources. He laughed in amusement at himself. He had been nothing but a fool, he thought, to have believed that he could even cause a slight headache for the baron. Now it seemed to him that the baron could dispose of him if he wanted. As he watched the swirling masses, he felt as if he were nothing but a tiny dust particle, which could easily be blown away with a gust. He couldn't prepare himself enough in advance to what he had to face. This world was so much different from his. The baron had the upper hand with all the advantages the big city could yield.

At last, he sighed as he sauntered out of the railway station. He had all the time in the world. Or perhaps, he thought, no time at all. He looked around and cursed as some people bumped into him from behind. He was slightly annoyed but remained surprisingly listless. Then he sighted some cabs and thought he would stay a night in a hotel, until he decided what to do. He hurried forward and was about to sit into a taxi but a hideous character thwarted his way, and someone else nimbly took advantage of the situation by taking the cab. He mumbled something in despair. Luckily, there was another taxicab, which stopped beside him. He got into it and was about to tell the driver his destination when the hideous character seated himself beside him.

"This is my cab," he proclaimed.

"Not any more," said the hideous character and showed a revolver while laughing joyfully.

"I'll get out," he screamed as the cab started moving.

"Oh, no you don't," the hideous character enjoyed every second of terrorizing him, "you are the man I am after."

"That can't be," he disagreed. "I have just arrived."

"So we know," replied the hideous character and looked at him seemingly apologetically. But nothing could be further from the truth.

He shrank back. "Where are we going?" he asked with fear.

As an answer, the hideous character lashed out at him and he fell on his side.

"That will be enough for now," the cabdriver told the hideous character. "Our orders were to take him alive. If you continue like that, you'll kill the bastard. Let the others do that if the leaders want it so."

The hideous character moaned and seemed to be offended. The inspector was wiping his face, especially his bloody nose and thought the end was approaching. He glimpsed at the bulky figure of the hideous character with dismay telling himself that this wasn't happening to him, it was nothing but a dreadful nightmare. He felt small and helpless, a man whose destiny it was to end up in a deserted ditch. He shivered and sat motionless lest the hideous character might find a lively target more attractive and forget the cabdriver's warnings. He didn't even look out the window; he thought it was purposeless. But despite all his fears the rest of the ride was uneventful.

The taxi stopped in the middle of a deserted meadow from where he could only see the contours of the skyscrapers; nothing else of the city could be seen. The hideous character dragged him out of the cab and held one of his arms tightly. He wasn't able to move an inch. There they waited until a black limousine arrived.

"Here he is," the cabdriver pointed to him, when three men emerged from the dark car.

"Can I join?" asked the hideous character.

"You should have tamed him by now," said one of the three to the cabdriver. The hideous character was too dumb to comprehend the meaning of that sentence. "Your next assignment is at the seventh plaza at half past nine. This is the person," the cabdriver was given a photograph. Then his two earlier acquaintances left him with the three men. He looked after the receding cab with the unreasonable patience of a dying being.

"What now?" he shrieked.

For the second time that afternoon, he received a terrible punch in answer to his question. He lost a tooth in the jolt. He tried to get up from the ground, where he had been thrown. But this had been only the beginning. He was kicked and punched. His nose started bleeding again and he wished they would be done with him soon. He had received at least a dozen low blows before the men called it a day. He thought the beating lasted an eternity.

"Next time you'll think twice before messing around with us again," one of them said and took his wallet.

They left him there in a pile of grass.

For some time he didn't dare move. Then slowly, as if being afraid he might fall apart, he struggled to his feet. He was in a pitiful state. All his joints ached. He winced in sorrow and pain and attempted to locate his position. Finally, he realized there was a narrow road to his right. This road headed towards the city as far as he could tell from where he stood. There was at least one good thing about skyscrapers, he thought. One could see them from great distances and they could show one the way.

He limped to the road and started an arduous walk back to the city. Certainly, the beating had done him some good for he no longer feared his attackers. He was determined to find the baron more than ever. There was no mister nice guy any longer. He would crush the baron and the organization, he thought, as he arrived at crossroads.

The skyscrapers showed him the way.

****

It was lucky that he, out of prudence, had put a large sum of money in his shoes, when he had embarked on his mission. That was how he could afford to stay in a central hotel, after having walked all the way from the meadow. In his miserable state, there had been no one to give him a ride. Even the receptionist had looked at him with sharp and investigating eyes and had demanded an advance payment.

But now as he rolled in his bed, after having a bath, he was in good mirth. He was still alive and this in itself made him happy. It was late afternoon and he watched the sun go down. Then suddenly he remembered what had been said before his beating: "...next assignment at seventh plaza half past nine...," he repeated. So it would be, he thought, a pleasure to pay back some of the discomforts he had suffered. His hands were itching for a fight. This time however he had the advantage of surprise.

He got dressed and called a taxi. By eight o'clock he reached the seventh plaza. Then again, his self-assuredness was gone. He had never seen anything of the size of the square, which emerged in front of him. The plaza was swarming with people and he couldn't see from one end to the other; not even from the top of an artificial hill. And he had only a little time left. Where on earth could the operation take place? He ran up and down for a while. Then a sudden thought came to his mind. He was often impulsive. On such occasions, he was brilliant and diligent, otherwise he was pretty lazy. Now this sixth sense led him to an information booth situated at the edge of the square.

"Say," he asked, "is there a bus station or the sort anywhere around here? Long distance," he added.

"Yes, indeed," the person in the booth answered. "Just follow the edge of the square to the right, and you can't miss it."

"Thank you," he said and hurried away. Now, if he was right, he pondered, that was where his two adversaries would await their target. Probably someone arriving from far away, someone as unaware and naive as he had been. Although it was a primitive method they employed in making their point, he thought, it was certainly successful and efficient.

The hideous character and the cabdriver were the first line of defence of the baron. They were rough and uneducated; therefore, he being a savant didn't fear them any longer. He was afraid of the baron though. The baron pulled all the strings and was the brain behind the actions. Yet the baron did seemingly nothing illegal. He must have been living the life of a venerable citizen, he thought, kind, respectable and God-fearing. Of course, in the background he made sure that no transaction, however trivial, might proceed without his consent. The baron's grip on society was complete. He was feared and cursed. Yet no one knew him, but a dedicated few who were members of the Group of Five headed by the baron himself. This small gathering voted on matters. Then these decisions were carried out to the point by faithful servants like the hideous character. But the baron was smart, he often used people outside his organization who were unaware that they abetted the very person they loathed. It was, therefore, especially difficult to reveal him. The baron had remained, above all, inscrutable.

He looked at his watch. It was nearly half past nine and he ran as fast as he could, yet the station was nowhere. For a moment, he believed he had been misled. He was about to give up when he saw a broad stairway leading to an underground station just ahead. He sighed in relief and excitement and thundered down the stairway. He trod three steps at a time. At the bottom of the stairway, he found a bus station congruent to the city, huge and chaotic. He wasted no time and continued running, crossed several lanes before slowing down. A couple of taxis were ahead and among them, he could see the cab he was after; the driver was leaning against the vehicle. The hideous character wasn't present though; he must have been after the next victim, making sure that the poor thing would end up in the right taxicab, he thought with sarcasm. And, indeed, so it would be. Except that in the meantime he would overtake this very taxicab. In an instant, he elaborated a plan that was simplicity itself.

He stalked in front of the cabdriver, waved his hand and said: "There is something I have to tell you. About the baron," he whispered. The cabdriver seemed stunned and was unable to comprehend the meaning of this preposterous statement. He was nearly as much a simpleton as the other, he thought. He started strutting towards a men's room he had chosen beforehand; the cabdriver followed him in astonishment, somewhat hesitantly and with distrust. Nevertheless, he could lure him to where he wanted at the end; there a quick punch was followed by a swift change of dress. In a short while, he appeared as a well trimmed cabdriver, except for the tooth he was missing. He walked back to the taxi and sat in the driver's seat. He waited patiently observing every little detail and movement around him, while drumming with his fingers in anticipation.

Then suddenly he saw the bulky figure of the hideous character in the rear-view mirror. It wasn't yet clear to him who the next victim was to be. There was a crowd in front of the hideous character and the shepherd didn't make his move thus far. Then as the crowd was about to pass by the cab someone was forced into the taxi in haste. He had to admit that the hideous character was good at what he was doing; no one could have noticed the crime unfolding; the sheer brutality taking place. The victim was pushed on the back seat. The hideous character was holding something dishevelled and thread-like, which made the unknown victim whisper in pain. Then he realized that the victim was choked and her hair pulled. He feared that the hideous character might suffocate her, coughed and said trying to imitate the cabdriver's voice: "That's enough."

"Start driving, would you," responded the hideous character angrily.

He heeded these words and turned to the exit lane. He wondered where they were supposed to go. Perhaps to the same meadow, he thought. Not that he could find the way there nor that he wished to return. He was afraid the hideous character might get suspicious if he headed in the wrong direction, but as he looked over his shoulders, he could see that the two were busy behind his back. The victim endeavoured to escape the hideous character's grip in vain, while the bulky person seemed to enjoy his superiority. He was satisfied with the way things had developed; he didn't run the risk of being revealed as long as the hideous character occupied himself with his victim. They cruised along a broad street when he was struck by another impulsive idea. He drove to the sidewalk.

"Get out," he said.

"What?" asked the hideous character.

"Orders," he said plaintively and pointed with his finger outside.

The hideous character moved with disbelief and indignation and cursed as he stepped among the other pedestrians. The inspector smiled and drove off with his passenger leaving the staring bulky figure behind. It was easier to dispose of the baron's two servants than he had imagined, he thought. Then he asked: "Whereto?"

For a while, he didn't receive an answer, then a faint voice said: "Just let me out here."

He stopped by a corner and she got out. He wished her luck, and then went back to his hotel.

****

He rolled in his bed for some time and then sat up. He simply couldn't sleep. He was too excited and proud of himself. Finally, he had been capable of an act of brilliance, proving that he had deserved to become the inspector, he thought. He amused himself with the punishment he imagined the cabdriver and the hideous character were given for the blunder they had made. He didn't feel a bit sorry for them, though. He felt it was a just revenge on his part to thwart their plans. The hideous character must have raged after finding out that he had been so mischievously deceived, the inspector thought. Anyway, he wouldn't have problems with them any more. The first line of defence of the baron was beaten and he knew there would be a change in tactics. There would be no more punching brigades. A more sophisticated team would continue trying to hinder him. But he was confident now. And he realized that he would have to change his tactics as well in order to fulfil his mission. A single day in the city proved enough for him to realize that it would take much more to reveal the identity of the baron than he could muster. Therefore, he had to make the baron come to him instead of the other way around. But he was aware that the baron would only come to him as a last resort. The inspector knew this was a poker game, in which he would have to risk everything. If the baron managed to glimpse any of his cards, the match would be over. It was therefore vital that he kept his lack of knowledge concerning the baron a secret.

He sighed in satisfaction and attempted to sleep. He was dozing when the telephone rang unexpectedly. He picked up the receiver.

"Hello," the inspector said inarticulately.

"Never do that again," said a voice he couldn't recognise.

"Never do what?" he asked.

"Never tamper with our affairs. You hear?"

"Oh, get lost," he shouted and ended the conversation.

So the second line of defence was in motion, he thought. At least the baron now knew where he resided, he mused. The inspector was complacent. Everything was working out the way he had wished.

He peered out of his room's window at the city and felt himself as far from the buzzing around him as he could be. He heard the muffled noises of the nocturnal life of the metropolis, saw the lights shining and shadows changing place constantly on the ceiling. Yet as he sat there, as much as he was unused to city life, he felt calm. Calmer than ever before. Perhaps this was simply the prelude of the imminent confrontation, he thought. Perhaps he was satisfied more than ever. Whatever it was, he had a sensation of being on an island, deserted and uninhabited, far away from all the commotion and danger. Somewhere, where fear did not exist. It was an ideal place. Nevertheless, something was missing. Or rather someone. Suddenly the countenance of his passenger emerged before his half-closed eyes. He hadn't given it too much thought earlier, but now he had to admit that she had been very attractive. Especially as vulnerable as she had been. It might have been a mistake to leave her in the midst of one of the city's uncountable squares. Maybe they could have united forces against the baron, he mused. If it was the baron she had been after, he added. Then he shook his head. After all, he thought, the time of chivalry was over, and he certainly wasn't the knight who would save the world. He wasn't about to make useless acquaintances. Besides, he liked to work alone, to be alone. He couldn't tolerate detours that could jeopardize his success. With this thought, he leaned back and turning from the glowing lights went to sleep.

****

He awoke with an ingenious idea that matched the overtaking of the taxicab in simplicity. He quickly got up and arranged his thoughts. He would forge a document indicating that important people stood behind him. Then he would make sure that this document ended up in the baron's hands. He just had to make sure of its credibility. This could prove difficult though. He couldn't afford slip ups; it had to be perfect. Not too detailed yet believably meaningful. No names could be mentioned. This would discredit the document at once, he thought. Besides the baron had agents everywhere, naming one of them would have been unwise. Also, to indicate someone not involved seemed to him abhorrent. He didn't want innocent people to get hurt because of his poker game if things went wrong. It was his fight, he had to fight alone.

He set to work. He worked diligently throughout the day, piecing together the document meticulously; it was late afternoon when he finished with it. Then he ordered a satchel, a handbook and a map of the city from the receptionist. When he received these items, he put the document, the book and the map in the bag. He was almost ready to go. There remained, however, one important detail unsolved. He didn't entirely know how he should organize matters. He was sure that he would be followed as soon as he left his room; no doubt his phone was already tapped. But how should he lose his bag afterwards? He couldn't just drop it somewhere, he thought. That would be too obvious, something the baron wouldn't buy. He had to make it seem as if he had to depart from the satchel in haste and unwillingly. He paced the room up and down while getting dressed. He tried to find the solution. He was putting on his shoes when it occurred to him. He sighed in satisfaction. He left the hotel, his bag placed under his arm.

The inspector noticed the men following him instantly. There were two of them, one carrying a newspaper, the other pretending as if looking in the shop windows. At the beginning, one of them was following him on the other side of the street, but soon the road broadened to ten lanes and both of the men had to keep pace with him on the same sidewalk.

He thought he would test the skills of the baron's servants before actually implementing his plan. Therefore, he entered a huge shopping mall and got lost in the crowd. He went up two flights with escalator. Then, making a detour he came down again and exited the mall. There was no trace of his followers and this worried him because he needed them to pick up the satchel he wanted to lose; it seemed he had managed too well in getting rid of them. He was confused what to do for some time, waited for his followers a block from the mall, then retraced his steps stunned and upset. The ineptitude of his followers angered him. He felt unchallenged. He thought the baron would have sent more capable men if he was more important. Now he had to find them in the mall. He hurried from floor to floor. At the top, he finally found the men; they were sipping coffee in a cafeteria and it seemed to him that they had given up the chase. He looked at them despisingly and imagined his fingers folding around the baron's neck. He sat down by a table so that the men could see him, ordered a cup of tea and tapped with his fingers in anticipation. He was waiting to be seen. But the men were occupied. He thought their working hours must have been over or something. He drank his tea and still nothing happened. He was becoming unnerved. At last, he decided to take charge of the situation, boldly went forward, and as if by chance, pushed one of the men off his chair.

"I beg your pardon," he said, and acting on instincts rather than common sense punched the other man with full strength.

Then the inspector ran. Finally, the men were on his tail. He pushed his way through the crowd, and headed towards an underground station. He had to descend fifteen flights. He stumbled here and there, but kept his meagre lead. In the meantime, he looked back several times not trusting his followers' following ability, so they could keep him in sight.

After he had arrived at the underground station he jumped in a subway car that was about to depart. The men followed close behind. Then just before the doors would have closed, he disembarked. It was perfect timing. The door closed on his bag and clutched it. He pretended to be trying to free it in vain. The subway began to roll and he gave up. Or so his followers were meant to believe. As the car receded he could see them taking possession of his satchel and felt satisfied.

****

The inspector was beginning to get used to the city and was surprised how much the city grew on him. He felt as if he had lived there for an eternity. His earlier life seemed distant and unimportant; he didn't feel homesick. Actually, the city was his home now. He looked out of his room's window and peered into the distance and wondered if it was worth it at all to embark on his mission. So far he had gotten nowhere. Days passed on and all he could do was to wait patiently; the baron hadn't made his move yet. And as time went it seemed more and more unlikely that his plan would work. But he hadn't given up hope just yet.

In the meantime, he went sightseeing, at times accompanied by followers. Nevertheless, he got the impression that he could do anything he wanted unhindered as these followers weren't too eager and he could escape from them any time. He mused whether this meant that he was seen simply as an annoyance by the baron or quite the opposite, someone to recon with. He was certainly worried that his cards had been revealed. Was the document he had forged believable, he asked himself. Uncertainty was frustrating. He was fed up with the whole game and the pretension, but he had to go on; he had no other choice. He had to keep pretending that everything went the way he wanted, working on the assumption that he was still perceived as a dangerous antagonist by the baron.

Now he looked at the night sky, but there were no stars to be seen. The city was too bright and he was in the middle of it. The only star he could perceive was a bleached yellow decoration on the wall of a cinema that was a shabby place next to one of the skyscrapers. Despite its squalidity, there was a continuous crowd in and out of the movie theatre. He thought this contrast between the skyscraper and the cinema was pertinent to the city. He could never understand how, if in any way, the metropolis was organized. There were the large apartment blocks built of concrete and scattered among them, small wooden houses could be found as if hiding in the shadows of the giants. He thought this made the city look ragged and in disarray, yet it certainly added some flavour.

He often looked at the city at night. He believed it was more interesting then than in daylight, it had some mysterious and mesmerizing aura. But he thought he wasn't about to watch enchantedly for much longer for he was running out of money. He only hoped the baron would make his move soon.

****

Finally, the baron made his move.

The inspector stopped in front of his room, taking a deep breath before entering. He had been visiting museums earlier in the day and when he had returned to his hotel he noticed at once on the face of the porter that something was about to go down. He hadn't been able to tell what made him convinced of that. But he had been certain.

Now he stood in the hallway and could hear some strange noises emanating from his room. His conviction turned out to be true when he stepped inside the room.

"Come in," said someone relaxing in his easychair and watching television.

"And you are?" the inspector inquired.

The man turned away from the television set. He could see a bulky figure dressed in a workman's suit. He grinned. He could tell the baron from anyone.

"You should know who I am," said the baron loftily.

The inspector simply nodded in answer to this and seated himself. "State your business," the inspector said, while looking at the baron in disgust, who was eating peanuts and drinking beer. Instead of answering, the baron tossed a bowl full of peanuts towards him and continued watching television. He looked in amazement and pondered whether he should turn the table on his visitor or not. Then he decided not to.

After some time the baron said: "An interesting game, isn't it? I bet a hundred on the team in the blue."

"Are they winning?"

"What a question. Naturally. But either way I win. That's the way it always goes." The baron glanced at him. "Perhaps we can make a deal as well."

"Perhaps not," he rejoined.

The baron shook his head and drank his beer. "I hope you don't think that I believe that the document is genuine."

"Then what on earth are you here for?" the inspector asked.

The baron didn't answer. For some time they were silent. He stared at the baron. Then he said: "I thought you were someone. But I was wrong. You are just a measly creature."

"An interesting thought." The baron laughed, then waved his hands. "But you aren't the tough guy I imagined you to be either. I hope you are not trying to intimidate me with your muscle power." The baron laughed heartily again.

"Perhaps not," the inspector said.

The baron nodded haughtily. "Listen...," he crunched some peanuts, "I could use a man like you. Young, strong, intelligent and eager. You know what I mean."

"Yes," the inspector answered. "But there is only one way you can stop me. And that ain't money."

"If you force me to..."

"Maybe that is what you are supposed to do. I have no idea what the Commission's plans are."

"Of course. There we have it. The mysterious Commission you mentioned in your document."

"I didn't mention anything," the inspector said knowing that the baron was attempting to reveal his cards.

"So you say. But there isn't anyone who has heard of this Commission whatsoever."

"It's secret," the inspector exclaimed. "And it shall deal with you."

The baron flicked a peanut into his mouth. "Is that so? And how shall they," he accentuated the they "deal with me, may I ask?! Skyscrapers don't come tumbling down, you know."

"I disagree."

"Then we have nothing else to discuss unfortunately. If, however, you change your mind just say so to my men," the baron got up. "I'll leave the peanuts and the beer here. They would do you good."

The baron exited the room.

****

"...now that we have discussed the most urgent transactions, I would like to inform you of a possible conspiracy unfolding," said the baron. He was speaking in a large cave far beneath the surface. His voice echoed in the distance. A creek was flowing close by. There was a round table placed in the middle of the cave, it was here the Group of Five was seated. It was here that they voted on matters. Secluded from the world. Undisturbed. "There is a man calling himself the inspector," the baron continued. "We have found a document connecting him to some unnamed highly ranked individuals. I wonder if you know anything about this matter."

"I haven't heard of any unnamed individuals," the general moaned. Nor had the secretary of operations, the businessman or the lawyer. The baron looked at them with sharp eyes. It was clear that he was displeased.

"I don't like double crossers," the baron shouted and jumped out of his chair. "If I find out that any one of you is involved in the conspiracy you will pay. Dearly."

For a time there was silence in the cave, only the splashing water could be heard. Then the lawyer said: "Could I see the document you have been referring to?"

The baron tossed the document angrily to the other end of the table. He started to circle around the other four members of the Group of Five.

After a while the lawyer said: "But this contains absolutely nothing. I say it's a hoax."

"So it's you, is it?!" the baron exclaimed in rage.

"What?" the lawyer inquired.

"I don't understand any of this," the businessman told the baron. "Are you trying to frame someone based on a piece of paper?"

The baron looked at the four of them with hate. "Someone is attempting to undermine my power. Who else would dare to try if not one of you? Or is it all of you?" The secretary of operations couldn't open his mouth, the baron didn't allow him. He continued loudly and with pathos: "I promise you there will be a purge. A purification. And all those who have changed sides will be dealt with..."

****

The inspector didn't know what to make of the baron's visit. He had been hoping to get more out of it but the baron had provided him with no lead. He analyzed the events over and over again. The baron had mentioned nothing, nor did his physical features distinguish him from others; he could see countless workers looking like him day after day. Thus, the baron seemed to him just as inscrutable as before. He felt his mission had become meaningless and he didn't know what he should do. He was achieving nothing. He got more and more frustrated and was close to admitting failure. But then something unexpected happened which gave him the lead he so much desired.

He was walking along one of the main avenues near the centre of the city. It was late afternoon and the sun glittered in puddles left after a thunderstorm. He winked with his eyes as he took deep breaths of the fresh air he so much missed since he had arrived. The wind blew mildly over his face. His cheeks were ruby for he had jogged a couple of streets. There was little traffic and the storm had cleared the city of people and rubbish, which had filled the sidewalks earlier. He was strolling at a comfortable speed and enjoyed the sunrays.

Then a sudden thunderbolt stopped his sauntering. He had never experienced anything like it and thought the entire city had collapsed upon him. An echoing crash filled his senses and ran through his bones. He fell to the ground and thought that he would never get up. Then the thundering noise subsided, though it left his ears tingling. He looked around from his prostrate position and saw a large cloud of dust swirling that was about to engulf everything a couple of blocks ahead. He kept staring at the sight for a while in absolute astonishment, although there wasn't much to be seen. Perhaps this was the most disturbing. He remembered that a renowned skyscraper had been standing where now the cloud of dust eddied.

Then he started to run. He realized that this event held the clue. His mission was saved after all. He entered the vortex of dust. He stumbled ahead. He could see very little but perhaps it was all the better. Among the rubble of the collapsed skyscraper, there were body parts scattered around. It was an abhorrent scene. He was horrified. He stopped and looked around. The devastation was complete. The skyscraper must have demolished at least a dozen other buildings and collapsed the road. There wasn't anything he could do. No one could have survived. He turned around and limped out of the dust. He could do nothing to save the victims now, he thought, but he had the power to prevent any such events from occurring again. All he had to do was to destroy the baron. "Skyscrapers don't come tumbling down...," the baron had said. But it seemed to him now that they did indeed. And he was without a doubt that the baron had been involved in their construction. This was the lead he had been looking for for so long.

****

"...our situation is aggravating," the baron cried out loudly, while getting hit by some gravel-sized rocks on the head. The cave was collapsing on the Group of Five. "Do something," the baron whined and looked like a sphere with five extensions as he tried to outmanoeuvre the falling rocks. The baron danced a long forgotten dance of cavemen around the round table. The other members of the Group of Five assembled and were jammed below the table. Unfortunately, for the baron there wasn't enough room left for him.

"I know that you want my demise," he said, his voice full of fear. "Which one of you sent that inspector? I want to know." The baron raged like a child. "I want to know!"

The others didn't answer. The rocks kept falling.

"I've lost," the baron uttered and sat down looking beaten as much as one could. "The inspector has the contracts proving our involvement in the construction of some of the faulty skyscrapers."

"I've told you that we shouldn't have overruled the safety standards," the secretary of operations said. "But you wouldn't listen."

"Shut up! You little creep. You would still be in the slums if I had not helped you out," the baron said angrily. Then he added: "Silence, let me think."

Bigger and bigger rocks were falling and the whole cave was crumbling. The hideout could disintegrate at any moment. Yet the baron simply sat there motionless. There was nowhere he could go.

Then suddenly the baron smiled and told the secretary of operations: "Get out, you creep!" And with this said the baron dragged the secretary from below the table and rolled in his place and knocked the lawyer out in the open as well. Just a second later, the cave collapsed, and only those under the table survived.

****

The inspector watched television. He watched the news. His mission had floundered. He knew that he was tackling the baron in the wrong way. He closed his eyes and listened to the news for the tenth time.

"...two people were arrested this morning in relation to the collapse of the ... skyscraper. The police have not yet named these individuals. They face the life sentence if found guilty. In the meantime the investigation continues. The police requests..."

The inspector turned off the television. He looked at the letter he had received a short time ago. He browsed through it once again. It was an invitation. From the baron.

****

"...I very much regret what happened to our poor fellow members," the baron told the general and the businessman. "But it was inevitable. The strong survive, the weak perish."

There was great commotion in the hideout; countless workers were renovating the cave. The rubble was cleared, the table restored to its original shape. The fountain once again rushed to the surface. The baron seemed blessed.

"Look," he said and pointed around the cave. "It will be better than ever. And only the three of us have to share it from now on." Then seeing the frightened countenance of the businessman the baron said: "Don't you worry. The purge is over. The traitors paid dearly."

The baron sat down by the table. "Come, join me..."

****

The inspector looked out of the train's window. He had a compartment all for himself; he travelled in luxury. He could thank the baron for all this. The very man he was to visit. As he leaned back in the seat, he wondered whether the baron lived in a mansion of some sort or perhaps in a castle. He thought it must have been something elegant and sophisticated fit for a king with at least a dozen servants attending on the baron. Maybe it was only used on weekends, he pondered.

Then suddenly he jumped up. He was furious and kicked the seat in rage. He was angry with himself. He had lost, and the best he could think of was where and how the baron lived, he thought. Had the baron been there the inspector would have certainly torn him to pieces in that instant, instead, he disassembled the seat. The inspector was still kicking the remains when a conductor entered his compartment.

"The next station is your stop," said the conductor, and shrank back immediately when seeing the ravages.

The inspector pulled himself together, arranged his clothes. Then he said dignified: "Here," and handed the conductor a large sum of money, "the baron pays for everything." He smiled. The conductor took the money and looked at him suspecting some mental illness was responsible for such irrational behaviour. The inspector nodded, and left the compartment. He could see the conductor watching him as he disembarked the train.

As the train rolled away, he looked around. He was an hour's drive from the city centre at a small, but tidy railway station. There was no one waiting for him. According to the letter there was supposed to be someone guiding him from here on. He waited some time, and then as nothing happened walked out of the station. Not a soul was around anywhere. He stopped in the parking lot and thought that the baron was pulling his leg, showing him how much he was in control. He stared at the ground with his hands in his pockets.

He didn't know how much time passed. Then suddenly a car stopped in front of him. He didn't have time to take his eyes off the ground for someone pushed him on the back seat. He was abducted again.

The car started to accelerate.

"It seems we always meet at a station," said the cabdriver. He recognised the voice immediately. He sat up. The hideous character smiled at him in a way that made him shudder.

"Which meadow will it be now?" he asked.

"I don't know," answered the cabdriver. "We are only taking you to a certain person. But don't ask me who, because I don't have the faintest idea."

"Besides we wouldn't tell him anyway, would we?" The hideous character put his hands on his shoulder.

The cabdriver said when looking in the rear-view mirror: "No violence, remember?"

"Right," moaned the hideous character.

"Never mind him," the inspector told the cabdriver and with a sudden jerk hit the hideous character on the jaw. The latter person fell forward unconsciously.

"That wasn't nice," the cabdriver said.

"I know," he remarked. "Life is often harsh."

He looked out of the window. They were crossing a little village with brick houses and large gardens. Spreading trees surrounded the road. Children bicycled here and there; there was little traffic. Everything was calm and seemed very cosy. This village certainly represented a different lifestyle than the city, he thought. One could see the sky; hear the chirping of birds.

"Is it far off?" he asked the cabdriver.

"No, we'll be there in a moment."

The baron couldn't possibly be living in a castle here, he thought. But that he, ruler of minds and souls could be living in an ordinary brick house seemed to the inspector perplexing at least.

"Here we are," the cabdriver told him and pointed at an ordinary brick house, "that's the house you are supposed to visit."

"That's where the baron lives?" the inspector asked in amazement.

"The baron?!" the cabdriver sounded surprised, then said with despise: "You're not that important. Besides the baron must live in a castle or the sort."

The inspector nodded and got out. He went around the car and told the cabdriver: "convey my greetings to him." The inspector pointed towards the unconscious hideous character.

"I will," said the cabdriver and drove away.

He stopped for a second before advancing to his destination. He looked around, but saw no one. He investigated whether there were hidden baron servants behind the bushes, in the tree crowns or perhaps in the sewer. He found no one.

He went to the entrance of the house and rang the doorbell. In a short while, the door opened.

"I was enjoying the show you provided through the window," said the baron. "It's a shame that it's over."

"Show? What show?" the inspector babbled.

"Now really. I can assure you there aren't any of my men here. Especially not in that rose-bush." Then baron looked at a bush he had painstakingly searched.

"Aren't you afraid of me?" the inspector inquired.

The baron simply smiled and said: "Come in."

He entered the ordinary house. He thought the inside was even more middle-classed. "Well, this doesn't a bit resemble a castle I imagined to be your style," the inspector muttered, after having sat down.

"I am a simple man," the baron told him. "A son of the masses. How would I look like in a castle? I prefer beer to wine. Besides, no one believes that the baron lives in such an average way. It's safer. I can go out in the yard and relax at night."

"I don't understand," the inspector said. "If you are satisfied living an ordinary lifestyle why do you hold on to power so vehemently?"

"Haven't you heard the saying that power corrupts?"

"So you feel corrupted?" the inspector asked.

"No. I simply won't give up the privileges I have worked for so hard, because some maniac comes along, and thinks he can do it better, without actually proving that he can, indeed, do it better."

"You are referring to me, are you not?"

"That's right," the baron said. "You attacked me when I approached you as a friend. When I offered you a part of power."

"Maybe I didn't want any part of your kind of power," the inspector shouted.

"Nonsense," the baron said. "You didn't want a part of power. You wanted it all for yourself just as I do. We aren't as different as you wish to think. We are very much alike."

"I disagree."

"You are the mirror image of me as a young man. I was exactly like you. Ambitious and idealistic, and extremely stubborn. I believed I was right and everyone else wasn't. I worked my way up meticulously and with tremendous effort. That way was filled with hitches. And now that I finally made it to the very top, I will hold on to power."

"For how long? Until the next skyscraper you have built comes tumbling down?" the inspector asked. "Because sooner or later they will collapse. One after the other."

"I think they will outlast my lifetime," the baron said. Before he could reply, the baron left the tiny living room, then to emerge with peanuts, chips and beer on a tray. "Have some."

"No, thank you. I hope you don't think you can bribe me with those."

"Bribe you? What a silly thought. I don't bribe people. I buy them. But there is no reason why I should want to acquire you. You represent no more threat to me."

"Really?"

"Of course. Did you believe that you could upset the order of the day alone? At first I was convinced that your secret Commission existed, but then my agents presented your biography which clearly indicated that you have always been a no one."

"That is very flattering," said the inspector, his cheeks starting to get ruby.

"Anyway, your appearance and manipulations presented me with a perfect pretext to get rid of the secretary of operations and the lawyer. They took the blame for the accident. They were too strong and an increasing annoyance. They even dared to challenge me lately."

"So you disposed of them. Brilliant," said the inspector. "I have to give it to you; you are an awfully good dictator."

"Dictator? I don't like that word. I'm the mildest and most enlightened organizer of all times. Under my rule living standards increased. People never lived as well as now."

"But you are still a dictator. Mild or not, it doesn't matter. There is only one right. Your right. You don't tolerate differing views. You repress anyone who thinks differently than you."

The baron stared at the inspector for a while. Then he said: "You still haven't learned, have you? You're a great democrat! The spokesman of the masses. But I know you more than you do yourself. You do not tolerate my views and you do not care about the masses a bit. Let me challenge you. If you can manage better than me I will disappear from the scene."

"All right," the inspector said. "It's a deal."

They shook hands.

Afterwards the baron spoke of his favourite sport team. The inspector listened in hope of understanding what made the baron the strong man of the day. But he saw only an ordinary man telling him of ordinary things. A fat man. He thought that was a sign of complacency, laziness and weakness. He certainly wasn't impressed. He thought he could easily outmatch the baron.

Later the baron invited the inspector for a meal. The inspector accepted the offer; he was getting hungry. They went to the diner together, where he met the baron's wife. The inspector felt sorry for the baron for a moment, but he couldn't hide a joyful expression from emerging on his face.

The baron noticed this and whispered to him: "She was Miss Universe once, you know."

The inspector laughed and asked loudly: "In which Universe was that?" The baron's wife, ugly as she was, didn't comprehend what the discussion was about. Besides, she was used to being told what to do. She was an obedient creature.

The baron and the inspector sat down by the dining table. Soon the housewife served the meal, which was in a big cauldron. It was some sort of a stew as far as he could tell.

"It's my favourite," the baron told him, and ladled out a portion for both of them. The inspector looked at the stew and his stomach turned upside down. He forced a couple of bites into himself. Instead, he broached a topic when the baron's wife left them.

"Your wife doesn't know who you really are, does she?"

"No. She believes that I'm a broke businessman, who now works as a truckdriver."

"That's interesting."

"Not really. I am often away for there are always problems to be solved." The baron finished his third portion. "Since I'm ostensibly a truckdriver I can be away without her suspecting anything." The baron tucked his bread into the stew. The inspector felt nausea. "Finish up your food," he was told. "You're skinny."

He didn't agree. He didn't think that he was skinny. He believed he was strong. Strong enough to deal with the baron.

Chapter 2: The scientist

"The baron truly believes that with money he can solve everything. Buy everyone. You see, he is convinced that no one is irreplaceable. He thinks he can treat people as statistical figures, as some sort of wares. Ship them here and there, manipulate them. And when he's done with someone, the person ends up beneath ten feet of earth. But I can tell you he's wrong. There are people who are simply not replaceable. People who can influence our world through their work, personality or whatever. If they are gone, centuries may pass before someone of similar calibre shows up. That is why I need you. You are a unique person. You are capable of expressing your feelings like no one can. You are impulsive. That is something I completely lack. What do you say?" the scientist extended his hand towards Nameless Andrew.

"All right," he answered, and shook hands with the scientist. "Although I find it hard to see in what way I may be of use to you. But whatever. I'm interested in your work and I must say your flattery took me off my feet."

"Good," said the scientist. "Then come, I'll show you the island."

He nodded and looked intently at the scientist. He didn't think too much of him. The scientist wore thick glasses, had a pale and sickly face, the eyes showing marks of prolonged reading. The forehead was wrinkled, and he was somewhat balding. The scientist hid his meagre body behind a white protecting cloak, the upper pockets filled with pens and calculating devices. The only thing that he found interesting in the physical appearance of his new employer was his eyes. They had a silvery tint, shining as light reflected on them at certain angles.

He followed the scientist. They went through laboratories of many kinds in an underground complex. They were mostly deserted, only a few people were around. They didn't look up from what they were doing as they passed by, just uttered a word of greeting towards the scientist.

"This is what I call being preoccupied," he said.

"Yes, as you see they are working. Nothing can be worse for a scientist than to lose his line of thoughts. I therefore beg you not to disturb them."

"I thought there were more nuts working at such places," he said as they walked through a great hall fully furnished with measuring instruments, but completely empty of humans.

"So that is what you think of us? Nuts?!"

"Yes," he said plaintively.

"At least you are honest. That's why I hired you. Perhaps you are right. Anyway, there aren't many people who undertake a job as ours. It means sleepless nights, frustration and endless battles in order to have your results accepted. And the baron uses all the means he has to discredit and ridicule you in the meantime. No wonder then that not too many embark on such a mission as ours. This is the reason you saw only a handful of the most daring who follow their dreams."

"Who is the baron?" he inquired.

"Haven't you heard of him before?" the scientist asked astonished.

"No," he said.

"Have we been living on the same planet?"

"I don't know about you, but I have been living on this one."

The scientist looked with sharp eyes at him, his silvery eyes piercing through his body. They stopped for a moment and then continued their walk. He thought the scientist saw into his mind, unravelled his thoughts. The scientist coughed now and then.

Finally, they emerged at the surface, after having ascended from the underground complex. As he stepped out from the elevator, he saw a heart-warming park with huge trees and flowers. It was a magnificent sight, very different from the grey and depressing laboratories. The grass was fresh and green, the flowers colourful. A group of squirrels fled and hid in the tree crowns as they saw them appearing from a hollow tree-trunk, which hid the elevator. Something mooed in the distance.

"Take a deep breath," said the scientist.

He ignored him for a moment. He was more interested in the park. Then he said: "I thought there were no such places any more."

"And you were right. There was no such place. This island was a wasteland until I came."

He sat down beneath a tree leaning against it. He was chewing a stalk he had picked up under the tree. The scientist stood beside him, his back crooked. He felt the scientist stooped over him, cast a shadow over him. He was annoyed.

"Sometimes I feel that time stands still," the scientist suddenly said. "And that I'm not getting anywhere. I'm swimming against the tide. I am engaged in a war against the baron, a man who controls everything. So far, I have achieved fairly little. I had the baron cornered once for a short time, but he managed to stay intact. He sacrificed two of his closest associates, blaming everything on them. The truth is that I did him a favour. My doings were a good excuse for the baron to do his purge. Many faulty skyscrapers have been built since."

He looked at the scientist, and spat out the stalk. He didn't really care about what the scientist had been saying, it made no sense to him. He hadn't heard of any baron, besides he was used to choosing simple methods for solving his problems.

"If this baron bothers you so much," he asked, "why don't you do something about it? If I were you, I would have hired myself to break the ribs or spine of this baron. That's the way I have always dealt with my enemies."

The scientist smiled paternally. He was angered, and contemplated for a moment whether to hit his employer on the chin or not. Then he decided not to.

"I'm sorry if I offended you," the scientist said.

"Can you read other people's minds or what," he was shocked.

"Somewhat. But I wasn't smiling at you. I was rather smiling at myself. I had such a mistaken idea as well, that I could crush the baron physically. Except that I should have known better. I arrived in the city full of hope and high-flown notions. I thought I would deal with the baron quickly. I was wrong. You see, the baron is well protected. Besides, he's only a small part of a great machine. Take him out of the equation and the machine will still roll further. One has to destroy the machine. And that is painstaking, difficult and requires enormous patience and endurance."

"So, what is this machine, something physical or ...?"

"Both physical and mental."

He hummed trying to look intelligent. He still couldn't grasp the essence of the war the scientist claimed to wage. He thought his employer certainly wasn't a fool, this struggle must have had some great importance. Although the goal seemed to him obscure and, lacking a good fistfight, uninspiring. Nevertheless, he thought he would have a go at the baron if the occasion presented itself. A couple of body punches would no doubt do, he pondered.

After a while, the scientist asked: "Shall we go?"

He enjoyed relaxing in the fresh grass, in a place he had believed didn't exist any more. Therefore, he asked sourly: "Whereto?"

The scientist shook his head. "Don't tell me you're like the craftsmen I had here once. They thought of nothing either than taking it easy on my expense. There is work to be done. And you, my friend, are my employee. So, follow me."

Nameless Andrew nodded, and did as the scientist had suggested. They walked to the end of the island, to a shallow lagoon. The island itself was round and plain, surrounded by large artificial cliffs, which were there to protect against the whimsical sea. The precipice constituted a wall reminding Nameless Andrew of fortresses. The cliffs were high and unassailable, with sharp edges making climbing impossible.

"Was all this precaution necessary?" Nameless Andrew asked while pointing at the wall.

"Absolutely," the scientist answered. "This is a desolate place far from anywhere; a storm could easily sweep the island off the map. The sea can be dangerous now and then. Besides, this gave me an opportunity to test some of my theories."

"What theories?"

"Theories about currents and tides," said the scientist. "I will tell you more about it later."

This explanation proved adequate for Nameless Andrew for he wasn't too interested in scientific things anyway. The little interest rising in him at times concerning such topics quickly diminished to nought. It wasn't different now either. He rather watched some odd-looking seabirds, pondering what method of hunting would prove to be most successful in attaining them.

"Do you see those birds?" asked the scientist realizing that Nameless Andrew was looking at a group of such creatures residing on one of the cliffs. "They were native to this island. Once long ago. When I came here, only their skeletons were to be found. But then I revived them. They are invaluable. They possess a unique ability to fly against the wind. Even in the worst weather."

"And I was imagining them in a nice hot oven." Nameless Andrew smiled. The scientist didn't. Nameless Andrew couldn't read his employer's face, there were no emotions present. He thought the scientist would have made a great poker player.

Later on, they returned to the underground complex.

****

Nameless Andrew was sitting on the gravel separating the cliffs from the park. He listened to the ocean, glimpsed at it between the precipices. High waves were continuously coming, but the cliffs spread them and minimized their effects. It seemed to him that the wall tamed the ocean. In fact, everything was somehow unnaturally peaceful on the island. Tamed and controlled. Outside the ocean whirled, on the island peace prevailed. He began to feel a calmness pervading even himself, flooding his senses. He exhibited unprecedented self-control and patience. He felt tamed. He would have raged if he had felt so before, but now he simply accepted it as an unalterable way of life. He got used to peace. He got used to not wanting to hunt the strange seabirds any more, to being told what to do and what not to do. The scientist expected order, and so he became organized. He didn't want to let his employer down, especially since he felt useless. The scientist always kept telling him that soon he would make use of his unique abilities, but that soon seemed rather distant. Of course, Nameless Andrew thought, time didn't exist on the island in the same way as in other places, regularity made no moment memorable. For the scientist holidays were a waste of time and totally irrelevant. The scientist had some great mission Nameless Andrew couldn't define. At times, he was convinced that neither was the scientist able to pinpoint what he really wanted to achieve. His employer was always mentioning the baron as the one responsible for all wrongdoings and suffering, responsible for things he didn't experience on the island. He found it hard to understand how the scientist could speak of something he didn't experience. But then again, Nameless Andrew was a man of senses, and the scientist wasn't. The scientist's actions were contemplated, rational and logical.

Nameless Andrew looked at the ocean, as much as he could see of it. He wished there weren't any cliffs breaking his vision to fragments. He remembered that he had asked the scientist once if he could be somehow elevated to a height from where he could see the ocean. The scientist had answered plainly that there was nothing to be seen surrounding the island. Now Nameless Andrew thought his employer was wrong, the ocean was certainly something to look at.

He would have continued his line of thoughts, but suddenly the scientist appeared beside him. After a mutual greeting, the scientist said: "I had a nightmare yesterday. It was all the more frightening, because it seemed so real. Everything I feared to be was there in the nightmare. I dreamed of the future."

"So you're afraid of the future?"

"Oh, no." The scientist shook his head. "But I dread what our future may turn out to be was I not able to influence it."

"Tell me about this nightmare," Nameless Andrew said as he let a handful of gravel trickle through his hands.

"It all started in the morning. I woke up. The first thing I noticed was that I couldn't stretch out my hands, nor straighten out. My bed was too small and my fingers hit the kitchen table and the bathroom door, respectively. Of course, then I realized that my bed was situated between the kitchen and the bathroom. It was a foldable bed, flat and thin. After a moment's hesitation, I realized that it could be pivoted upwards to the wall, where it completely disappeared in its place. It formed a part of the wall actually. No wonder all my limbs were numb. It was the most uncomfortable bed I could imagine. Anyway, it was time that I got dressed and went to the office. My wife had already gone to work."

"You worked in an office and you had a wife," Nameless Andrew repeated.

"Yes, I was a petty bourgeois. A sort who always does what is said to be right. By that time, I was entirely enmeshed in the dream. I took a shower before heading to the office. It was a cold and short experience. Energy, space and time were in short supply. I was in the future. The apartment contained all the things I could reach when I woke up, namely: the kitchen, a miserably small area, the bathroom, an even more miserably small area and the living room. The living room was the place between the kitchen and the bathroom. Above the entrance of the apartment, which faced the bed when unfolded, was a screen and a controlling unit. This was the multimedia platform. There were ten thousand channels to choose from. A good source of argument with my wife. Make no false assumptions though, I did love her. We were newly wed. Completely in love. I was so much in love that I worked overtime to be able to afford our luxurious apartment, which was on the seventy seventh floor of a hundred and twenty storey skyscraper in the midst of a housing estate comprising of similar buildings and units. When I stepped into the elevator situated on the outside wall of the skyscraper and looked down my body started to shake. This was usual. I had high anxiety. I was a low ranked bureaucrat after all. I had asked for an apartment on the bottom, but I still couldn't complain. Many people had only a capsule to sleep in. This was all because of the population explosion. My wife and I would have had children, but there was a shortage of certain vital elements."

"What elements?" Nameless Andrew asked.

"Like carbon. Nearly all carbon on the planet was contained in humans and human related products, there were so many of us. There was a population control centre to deal with this issue. This is where I worked."

"I don't quite grasp this part," Nameless Andrew said. "You are saying that there wasn't enough of the vital elements to build up a new human body?"

"That's right," the scientist answered. "Of course, this sounds rather ridiculous, a short calculation can show how much so. But then again, this was a ridiculous dream. Anyway, I rushed to the office on foot for I was late, even though I have been in charge of a local campaign called: Citizens against excess exertion. The campaign highlighted the fact that by not running, jogging, or training one could save large amounts of energy. This in effect would have meant less carbon and oxygen uptake, a better lifestyle and more children. I had invented this brilliant idea myself, and was very proud of it. It was a culmination of my life, finally the long years of studying paid off. I felt I repaid the great investment society had put in me with this ingenious campaign. Even so, I was up to a surprise. When I arrived at my office, or perhaps it is better to say my little desk, a delegation of five of the most prestigious individuals of the population control centre greeted me. I received a golden medal for my work and a promise that the campaign would not remain local, but expand and become a major movement. Naturally, the delegation could not overlook the perspiration on my forehead, and so I had to explain why I had run to the office. This in turn made the head of the delegation question my sincerity and resolve concerning the campaign. Finally, the great five decided I shouldn't be leading the movement due to my regrettable attitude. Of course, they promised me that locally I would still remain responsible for the development and fulfilment of the campaign. They were very kind. They gave me the day off on condition that I would work the hours I so missed in overtime the next days to come. I thanked them, proudly wearing the golden medal on my super thin cloak. It was so thin that sometimes I wondered if I had it on me at all. I certainly believed at that point that it couldn't hide my embarrassment and anger. I had always looked up to my superiors. I had trusted them, respected them and yes, even adored them. But even I had a little ego in me. And it burst to the open like a geyser. I would have shouted aloud, but propriety and the possible punishment deterred me from doing so. I walked out of the office instead, displeased and upset, and headed to a place where shouting wasn't prohibited. You see, such measures were necessary. Imagine all the humans crying out at the same time. This would have led to a disaster unparalleled in human history, the cries echoing for years before eventually subsiding. It was therefore necessary to create sites for raging. These were specially sealed rooms, which one could rent for a mere day's wage for half an hour. Arriving at my destination, I leased one such room, and happily shouted my anger away. After the half hour was over, I no longer had any resentment. I was freed from tormenting pain, my respect towards my superiors revitalized. I enjoyed cruising along a road, watching the wealthy with some envy as they bicycled with ease. I couldn't afford a bicycle nor had I the right to purchase one. Suddenly, a familiar face drew my attention away from the bicycles. It was my wife. She was carrying a big bag under her armpit. I waved to her, but she didn't seem to notice me. I pondered about what she was doing so early in the day on the same street I was pacing. I was coming nearer and nearer to her and yet she ignored me. I was at a loss why. Then she simply passed by me. I turned around and ran after her. I guess my superiors were right about me after all. I caught her arm and pulled her back. She seemed surprised and frightened, and dropped the bag she was carrying. Haven't you seen me, I asked her. She uttered something, but I couldn't hear what. I picked up the bag. What are you doing out so early, I asked. Finally, she responded and told me that I was confusing her with someone, and looked at me angrily. She literally tore the bag out of my hands. Now leave me alone, she said and hurried away. I stood there embarrassed and stunned. Then I remembered that I had heard of similar incidents before. Because there were so many humans, many of them looked totally alike. I must have bumped into one of my wife's look-alikes. Nevertheless, to make sure, I phoned my wife. She was working indeed. I sighed in relief for this meant that at least my marriage was intact. While I was in a blissful mood, I decided to visit the nearest park. I had with me a couple of taxi tickets. I had spared them over the years, and I thought this was just as good a time to use them as any other. Taking a taxi was a luxury, even though one could see dozens of them standing empty at every street corner. This was a result of a policy invented to reduce social tensions. Every one had the right to work, even if this meant standing beside a bicycle the whole day long and waiting for a customer who never actually showed up. This time one of them was lucky. I sat in the back seat, and we began to pedal harmoniously, my cabwoman steering the bicycle at the front. I liked bicycling. I wished I had one. Yes, I wanted one so much that I had even contemplated stealing one. But I was afraid of the punishment, so I had not done so. Besides then I would have made someone else unhappy. I had been taught that the welfare of society was above all else, and being an obedient person I did as I was told. I always did as I was told. Never questioning anything. This is as far as I can go, my cabwoman told me when we arrived at a major crossroads. You can take one of the cabs on the other side of the road to continue your voyage, she said. I got off the bicycle, paid the cabwoman, and went across the street."

"Why did you have to get off?" Nameless Andrew asked.

"I was getting to that. Everything was controlled by different guilds. The guilds divided up the so-called zones among themselves. These were the areas where they could operate. Inside their own territory, they had monopoly in their pertinent operational fields. This was so for the taxis as well. A cabman of one guild couldn't cross the zone of an other guild. This is why I had to get off. And do that for three more times to get to the park."

The scientist went silent for a moment. He was looking in the distance seemingly distracted. Nameless Andrew thought he couldn't possibly have seen anything for he hadn't his glasses on. Without them, he was virtually blind.

"And there you woke up," Nameless Andrew asked.

"No. I strolled in the park. I was thinking. I was asking myself why a ten-year training was needed for one to become a cabman."

"You mean to ride a bicycle?" Nameless Andrew laughed.

"It isn't as funny as you may think. The guilds are becoming the greatest obstacle in the development of societies. They are protectionists and monopolistic. They are not built on real values like competition. They can exclude anyone they dislike. The baron represents the guild. Let me enlighten you with an example. If I wished to become a cabman in my nightmare, the dream which unfortunately very much resembled reality, I would then had to undergo a ten-year training regardless the fact that I was capable of bicycling. If, after having received the right of being a cabman I had decided to include other services than transporting people or lowered prices I would have lost my right of being a cabman immediately. I would have become an intolerable competitive force reducing the prospects of other fellow cabmen who just enjoyed the comforts of idleness. Besides the guild would have lost its control over me."

"But couldn't you become a cabman without becoming member of a guild?"

"No. I could not. There were laws against that... There are laws against that. Say, why do you think I'm on this island? This is the only place where the rules created by the baron cannot reach. Where I can be what I want to be without anyone deciding if I am apt or not, if I'm allowed to perform some experiments or not. Yes, the guilds were the causes why there was no development in medieval cities. They were the greatest obstacles of development. They create a society of classes. That is why the baron must be dealt with."

Neither of them said a word for a while. Nameless Andrew made runes in the sand with a branch underlying the greatly philosophical state he had been in.

"Anyway," the scientist said, "the nightmare didn't end there. It continued although it seemed less composed. I was probably waking up. I remember walking in the park, but I haven't the faintest idea how I got home. I suddenly found myself in the apartment. It was late afternoon, I was eating some beans. Then unexpectedly I fell on my side. I tried to get up, but realized it was impossible. The skyscraper was collapsing. I thought I would be buried beneath a mountain of concrete. At that point, I seemed to be able to distinguish dream from reality, I wasn't frightened at all. Instead, I was curious how things might turn out. But I'll never know. Just before the skyscraper I lived in collapsed, my nightmare abruptly paused. Then it continued. I don't know how much time could have passed, what happened to my wife or to me for that matter in-between. I was bicycling down a road at a frantic speed. People looked at me with unpronounced dislike. I didn't care. I didn't care about anyone, not even about my wife. I felt free as I threw the golden medal I was still wearing among a crowd of spectators. I pedalled faster and faster. I was still pedalling when I woke up."

****

Nameless Andrew looked at the receding image of the island, which seemed as a simple blotted sand corn from the distance surrounded by water. Standing alone, taming the waves. It was the first time he left the island since he had arrived. He sat in an old and shabby airplane, the best the scientist could afford. By his side, the scientist was steering the airplane. He was to meet the baron. That's all the scientist had told him. He wasn't excited. He thought that if the baron was really as powerful as he had been told the scientist couldn't have been making a too good impression arriving with an airplane that was about to fall apart. If this were the case, he pondered, they would be no match. He glimpsed at the scientist with some despise. His employer was occupied by flicking the instrument panel, attempting to get it to work. For a moment, he doubted they would successfully land, because the instruments went berserk. They began to lose altitude. The scientist cursed. Nameless Andrew peered at the deep blue sea into which he believed he soon would plunge. But after some hesitation the engines started to function again.

"A sensitive little scrap we have here," Nameless Andrew said.

"Yes," the scientist answered. "One just has to prioritise. And a new airplane isn't at the top of the list."

"I get the idea," Nameless Andrew said sarcastically. "We'll crash right down at the baron." The scientist didn't answer, showed no emotions as usual. "Because as I see it," Nameless Andrew continued, "otherwise we'll simply be the laughing stock of the world. Or is it that the baron is intended to die from laughing?"

"Not a bad idea," the scientist said. "As fat as he is he might even burst." The scientist smiled at him. It was a smile showing superiority and confidence. "The greatest mistake one can make is to underestimate a person. The baron has made that mistake once regarding me, and almost paid the full price for it. He won't make such a blunder again, whether I arrive with the newest or the oldest airplane on the planet. At this point, my major problem is that I cannot selectively eliminate the unwanted hindrances. I can now completely destroy the baron, but that is an off limit option, because it would in effect mean an end to order. The baron knows that. He also knows that soon I will gain the sophistication required to deal solely with him and his closest associates. This is why he wants to negotiate."

"And you will... negotiate?"

"Yes, I don't see why I shouldn't."

Nameless Andrew shook his head. He often found it difficult to comprehend the scientist. He, for his part, would never have compromised with people he knew he could waste. To negotiate when one was sure of victory seemed to him pointless. It just gave time for the opponent to recover and take offensive actions, complicating matters.

"We'll soon arrive at our destination," the scientist said. "Do you see," the scientist pointed ahead, "that brown blot extending as far as you can see?"

Nameless Andrew nodded. He could perceive the continent long before the scientist. He was somewhat relieved, because this meant there was less time for the engines to fail again. On the other hand, he felt embarrassed, and wished he could make a more honourable entrance on the world scene. Of course, he thought, for the scientist it was all the same whether he arrived in rags or in style. The scientist had no sense for the little details concerning public affairs. He rather spent the money he had on some dubious experiments, which often yielded nothing. Naturally, he thought, these experiments must have had some importance, if no other than to find out that one could gain nothing from them.

Nameless Andrew liked what the scientist deemed as superfluous things. Among all things, he liked women.

After some time the scientist declared their arrival. And with this said he landed the airplane, which came to a halt after some dozen jerks on a seemingly desolate airfield. The scientist looked at him, his silvery eyes reading his mind as a textbook. "Now that we arrived in one piece you can't complain. The baron isn't going to see us for the simple reason that he isn't here."

"But then..."

"He has some servants waiting for us, who will take us to the meeting."

Nameless Andrew remained motionless. He was starting to get angered. Do this, do that and don't do that was all he heard since he met the scientist. He never knew what the scientist had in mind or what his intentions were. He always had to follow regulation, which reminded him of his childhood. That was a period of his life he utterly disliked, and he could hardly wait till it was over. He didn't wish to endure a renaissance of that period. So there was only one possible thing to do, he thought.

"Are you coming or not?" the scientist asked and waved his hands as he was walking towards a taxi. Nameless Andrew didn't answer. He was still sitting in the airplane, contemplating what to do. But the scientist had some grip on him, some control beyond his understanding. Thus, he followed the scientist. He thought he would have gone anywhere the scientist told him to go.

He overtook the scientist when his employer seated himself in the cab. There was a tall and hideous character and the cabdriver besides them in the taxi. "Who's that ugly looking fellow?" whispered Nameless Andrew and nudged the scientist.

"Just a pumped up no-one who looks even more abhorrent now than before. Do you see the scar around his nose? I gave that to him once upon a time."

Nameless Andrew glimpsed at the scientist, just to be affirmed of his disbelief. Right, he thought, once upon a time even piggy was able to subdue and outsmart the wolf. But he wasn't a child any more, he didn't believe in fairy tales longer. He shook his head and smiled while watching the traffic on the highway leading to the metropolis.

"So," asked the cabdriver, "what is it that you have done that makes the baron so interested in you?"

"He fears me," the scientist said briefly.

The hideous character laughed loudly. Nameless Andrew looked at the scientist. This time they were clearly on the same wavelength. Nameless Andrew could hardly wait till they parked inside a skyscraper located at the centre of the city. He swiftly got out of the cab, and opened the door for the hideous character. The hideous character glanced distrustfully at him, nevertheless was about to attempt leaving the car. However, the door got in his way, which Nameless Andrew made sure hit him in the upper body as he was trying to straighten out. The hideous character fell back on his seat obviously in pain and not entirely conscious. Was it not for the scientist Nameless Andrew wouldn't have stopped there. He was just starting to get warmed up. The prelude was set for a good fight, he thought.

"That's enough. Let's go." The scientist pulled Nameless Andrew away. Nameless Andrew wasn't too disappointed, he still hoped he could have a go at the baron later in the day. He felt good. Finally, he could do something he was very good at. He even saw a dawning respect emerging in the scientist's eyes. He felt important and this made him think he was capable of doing anything. The taxi driver was certainly afraid of him after the door incident, and always made sure the scientist would stand between them.

****

From the garage, they ascended to the top of the skyscraper, and disembarked in a conference hall. The cabdriver courteously took farewell from them for the time being, not being allowed among the great decision makers. Nameless Andrew, while stepping out of the elevator, grabbed the taxi driver's right hand and shook it. He also crushed it somewhat, just for the fun of it. The taxi driver quietly moaned, and thereafter disappeared as fast as he could. Nameless Andrew was proud of himself. He sat down beside the scientist by the side of a long elliptic table, which itself seemed to represent power with its black and shiny surface. Of course, Nameless Andrew couldn't resist trying to scratch it.

In the meantime, the scientist discoursed with some people he couldn't care less for. There was a fat peanut eater opposite to the scientist, who seemed to be the supreme in arguing with his employer. For some time Nameless Andrew said nothing, but then his patience expired: "Shut up fat ass," he shouted and leaned towards the peanut eater. He could see the scientist simply smiling.

"I believe I haven't introduced you," the scientist said jerking Nameless Andrew's sweater. "Nameless Andrew. The baron."

Nameless Andrew sat back in his chair and laughed heartily. The baron was quick to respond: "I don't know where you got this nameless harum-scarum, but I think he needs taming." A brawl was in the making, Nameless Andrew wasn't the man who allowed others to intimidate him, nor was the baron known for his tolerance. The scientist was helpless; the situation was definitely getting out of his hands. But the quarrel was not to be, because just as Nameless Andrew was about to lean forward again and grab the baron by the hair, the general arrived. For a second everyone looked at the general.

"Now that everybody is here," the scientist realized this was the perfect moment to bring the situation under control, "the formal discussions can begin."

Nameless Andrew was stunned and petrified, and his eyes were glued to the general. He literally fell back into his chair. He never saw anything like the general in real life before. She was the woman of his dreams sitting within striking-distance. He looked around and wondered what would happen if he just made his strike. The scientist and the dozen or so delegates were deeply enmeshed in some astonishingly boring and detailed plans for the future. He heard the scientist mirthfully telling the baron: "...it seems the whole weight of the future is on me. I have to pull while you sit and relax..." He couldn't understand what made the scientist so happy about having to pull something heavy alone. Or was it that this way he believed he could pull all the strings, he asked himself. Whatever, he thought. He stared at the general, but she never wanted to look him back in the eyes. She was, just as the others, preoccupied with the conference. Then the time came when suddenly everyone was silent in the room, only the chairs creaked under the bulky delegates. It was a too appealing an opportunity for Nameless Andrew that he couldn't miss.

"Now that you have re-divided the planet," he said and looked at the general, "how about dinner?"

The silence was complete this time. Nameless Andrew glimpsed around with a look innocent enough to resemble an angel's. The general blushed, and then furiously rebuked him. Nameless Andrew was surprised. This hadn't been the way she had treated him in his dreams. He opened his arms showing his complete innocence. The scientist apologized in his name. The baron simply laughed at him. Nameless Andrew didn't like to be laughed at or to be made embarrassed. He felt as a fool. He wondered how to retaliate. But then the general started laughing as well. Her mesmerizing voice overshadowed the other delegates' inarticulate giggling. His confidence in himself returned.

"So how about it?" Nameless Andrew asked.

Undoubtedly, this wasn't what the conference members had expected he would utter. The general was caught in a slippery position. She said slowly as if talking to a maniac: "All right. We'll do as you say." She sighed after having said this, and from then on showed always her lateral view. Nameless Andrew didn't mind, he got what he had wanted. He sat back and didn't interrupt the discussion from thereon.

"Now as I see it," the scientist said with some pathos inherent in his voice, "there must be a redefinition of human rights and welfare. I think..."

The baron disagreed accompanied by a loud outcry. This was the point where Nameless Andrew slipped into a doze. He could hear words being pronounced but was unable to connect them in any meaningful way; words were flying around in his head. The only thing he could see clearly was the general. She was dressed in feminine dress, not in the uniform she was wearing in real life. She was in the midst of a rose garden blurry in appearance. She was in focus. He wanted to tell her that he loved her, but the scientist pinched him and the rose garden was gone. But she was there. In uniform.

"Look," the scientist whispered to him and made him look towards two newly arrived delegates. He thought there was nothing unusual about them, they were as languid and slack looking as the rest. Besides the general, of course. "They are the beggars," the scientist said.

"They look pretty well fed and trimmed to me," Nameless Andrew disagreed.

"That's not the way I have meant it. They are people who once stood up against the baron but failed miserably. In fact, they became tools the baron now utilizes. They are abetting him. They came here to criticize me. They have a seemingly fool-proof weapon. It's the past. Just listen."

"Here are the two most renowned specialists," the baron said pointing to the two delegates. "What can you tell us after reading the report presented by our honourable scientist?"

Nameless Andrew could tell a folly when he saw one. And the baron was definitely one. Even his solemn voice wasn't able to hide the hate he must have felt concerning the scientist.

"After having read the material and after long and arduous considerations we came to the conclusion that we cannot recommend it," said one of the delegates. "It lacks the proper scientific approach and proofs."

"I must question your sincerity. I would like to know what your connection is to our dear baron," the scientist inquired.

"We will not stand such allegations," both delegates began to resemble ripened tomatoes in colour. "We are independent observers. We are also known for having challenged the baron once, but that we did not succeed proves all the more how easily false conclusions may be drawn."

"So you are claiming that my work is based on false methods?" asked the scientist.

"Exactly."

"Your report is based on half truths, the worst type of lies. They are lies, but very believable ones. In addition..." The scientist took out a document from a briefcase he had with him. "What is interesting," the scientist smiled, "is that although you present yourselves as independent observers the baron pays your bills. Like buying this nice house here." He showed around a picture of the house, and handed the document to the baron. The baron made gestures apologetically, claiming to have had no prior knowledge that the specialists were in his service.

"How do you like the development of things?" the scientist asked Nameless Andrew quietly.

"Quite entertaining," Nameless Andrew answered.

The specialists didn't seem embarrassed having been unravelled nor did this make them reticent. The scientist fell under a vicious barrage accompanied by vociferous exclamations from the baron. The scientist simply sat there, said only a few words. Nameless Andrew thought he was calmness himself. His calmness showed either strength or weakness. Nameless Andrew wasn't able to tell which. Then after some time the specialists ceased their attacks, and the delegates consented to having a short break. Most of them quickly left the room.

The scientist turned to the baron. "Once you told me that I like power," the scientist said. "Do you remember?" The baron nodded. "Of course, when I told you that I didn't want any part of your kind of power you didn't believe me. We have two different definitions of what power really means. My definition of power is self-determination. I believe that the first stage in becoming powerful is gaining control over one's mind and body. On the other hand, you are convinced that power is control you have over others. You can tell them what to do, what not to do. I think your interpretation of power stems from our common primitive past. But now it's time to build the future, and to leave your definition to oblivion."

"You are an idealist and a regrettably naive fool," the baron lashed back. "Your assumption is that things have changed. Well, they haven't. Just look at your nameless friend, bodyguard or whatever beside you. He hasn't changed. He never will. He's as brutal and unintelligent as the early cavemen."

Nameless Andrew decided not to engage with the baron in a scuffle, which would only have proven the baron right. Besides there was no way he could get angry. He was happy in advance for the time he would spend with the general. Although she still refused to look at him. He gave it his best shot though. He coughed, jumped from his chair, made silly noises. She still didn't condescend to his level. But he was determined. He went around the table and sat beside her.

"I am Andrew," he said. Finally, she glimpsed at him. There was a vague smile emerging on her countenance.

"I am the general," she said and they shook hands.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," Nameless Andrew uttered.

"Thank you," the general said. "Although I consider being called many things a greater compliment than pretty."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," she said with some resentment.

But Nameless Andrew didn't know. The only thing he knew was that he wanted the general. As a beautiful, flesh and blood woman. And he was in a hurry. However, everyone else seemed to be in a hurry too. Before Nameless Andrew could attempt kissing the general the break was over. The delegates returned, and the discussion continued. Nameless Andrew shambled back to his chair in despair. But he knew he would eventually have his way.

****

"So how was dinner?" the scientist asked.

Nameless Andrew smiled complacently as he peered into the darkness surrounding the airplane. He couldn't even hear the rattling sounds of the engines. "It was absolutely...," he searched for the right word, "phenomenal."

The scientist glanced at him, the lights of the instrument panel reflecting on his glasses. "I hate to admit it but I guess the baron was right. I have always been naive. For what is the first thing you do when seeing a good looking person of the opposite sex? You jump on her. It's all very primitive."

"That's not even true. I am not interested in other women."

"For the time being."

Nameless Andrew shook his head. He was too much in the throes of love to argue.

"You know I had a dream," the scientist said. "A dream that all my ancestors shared, but none of them had the opportunity to fulfil. It is an age old dream. Since the development of life, evolution has always occurred in the same manner. A species survived if the best characteristics of its members were lucky to prevail. It was all a matter of probability. Mostly physical changes occurred due to physical incentives from the environment. This is what I call hardware evolution. But now the time has come for the next stage of evolution. Software evolution. When it isn't the physical influences which determine the development of a race, but the mind and thoughts. We can fulfil the dream. For the first time we can determine our own fate, we can control our bodies. We can move forward. For the past millennia, our species barely changed. And now we can suddenly achieve a sophistication that would take millions of years if it occurred through hardware evolution. It is software evolution that creates the new hardware. No more malfunctions, no more of these damned glasses. Do you get my point?" the scientist asked.

Nameless Andrew looked at him suspiciously. He had heard of men wanting to create a super race, wanting to harness the forces of nature for their own interests. And these attempts had always led to tragedy and disaster. He liked things as they were. He was young, healthy and now had a mistress. He thought there was nothing else he had ever wanted out of life.

"Are you a crazy maniac?" Nameless Andrew asked, although he admitted the scientist was everything but a maniac. He looked calm and controlled as always.

"No," the scientist answered. "My objective is to make the world a better place to live in, and not to destroy anything." He had again read the thoughts of Nameless Andrew. "I myself look with great scrutiny at my work. I realize how easily things might get out of hand, how easily people we know could use my results for their own interests. Of course, a transition like this, namely software evolution will by its nature meet great resistance. For fear is associated with change. Suddenly current lifestyles will be challenged. Suddenly the baron will disappear from the scene. And even though most people dislike him they will weep for him. And they will curse me until they realize how beneficial this change really is to them. But software evolution must occur or there is no future for our species."

Nameless Andrew hummed in distress. His mistress had warned him about the scientist. He was unnerved. She had told him of the scientist's past, a story he had refused to accept at the time. But now he was in doubt concerning what the general had said. Perhaps she had been right. Perhaps he was sitting next to a dangerous masochist, who had rejected life's little pleasures just because they had made him feel good or special, and now wanted others to do the same. She held a lecture after they had dinner and some hanky-panky. He had been exhausted by the latter engagement so she could bulldozer him with her malicious remarks. He felt like he was trapped between two fires, both of which tried to extinguish the other, in the meantime killing poor him. Who was he to trust? The general was one of the three representatives of the order of the day, the scientist her main adversary. He was lost. He wanted simple answers to the most complicated questions. And he wanted them fast.

****

He met the scientist in one of the hallways of the great underground complex.

"Are things working out?" Nameless Andrew asked.

"Perhaps," rejoined the scientist seeming deeply in thoughts.

"We have a nice weather outside, don't we?"

"Possibly," answered the scientist.

"Can I join you?"

"Perchance."

Nameless Andrew was close to raging.

"Can I kill you?" he inquired quickly losing his temper.

"Maybe," said the scientist and left him in the hallway banging his head against the wall.

****

The scientist sat on a bed staring at the clean white floor when he entered the room. He seated himself beside him. Afterwards they watched the floor together in silence. Certainly, there was nothing interesting about the floor, Nameless Andrew thought. But there must have been some reason why the scientist peered at it. After all he was a man of reason, he pondered. Thus, he continued staring at the floor.

Then unexpectedly the scientist asked: "Do you know what I fear the most?" Nameless Andrew didn't answer, this was a question he felt the scientist had asked of himself. "I fear failure. I am afraid that one day I may awaken to the fact that I have grown old. When not only my body, but my mind will start to break down. And there I would be, all alone. Sitting on the bed just as I am now. Repenting all the things I didn't do, and all the things I've done. And feeling sorry for myself. Imagining how it would have been to have a family I never had, love I never had. And blaming all this on what I fought for, what I have been." The scientist went silent for a while. "And remembering. That's the worst part. For there is no present, only the past and the future. The past is something that has taken place, something you cannot alter. But the future is something you can influence. Remembering things you cannot alter makes one less than a mere observer. A shadow in a dream. A tarnishing shadow. I can imagine myself sitting on the bed as an old man, remembering that not so long ago when I sat on the same bed I could get up. I can imagine myself in the future seeing myself in the present. And it is the man of the future who feels sorry for the man of today. I refuse to prepare myself for growing old. Perhaps because for some reason I don't think I will." The scientist stopped for a moment, and then simply said: "Death is failure."

Nameless Andrew looked at him and wondered. "Why isn't there any present?" he inquired.

"Present is nothing but a perception. For can I say that this point in time is the present? No, because by the time I uttered the end of the sentence it has already become the past. Time doesn't come in quanta, it is an abstract invention. The meaning of time becomes useless if you don't define it as a line. That is my view anyway."

Nameless Andrew really couldn't care less if time was a blown up balloon. He thought if this was the reason why the scientist was looking at the floor, then he certainly needed help. Help Nameless Andrew was unable and unwilling to provide. Therefore, he swiftly left the premises.

****

The scientist was preoccupied by looking at a jelly-like bluish substance in a narrow tube when Nameless Andrew appeared. Again, he was perplexed by how the scientist found interest in something of no value to him.

"What is it that is so exciting about this blue substance?" he asked.

The scientist glanced at him, looking distant and displeased for being disturbed.

"The shape," he briefly commented. "It's highly unusual. This might be the key."

Nameless Andrew sighed. He couldn't recollect how many times before the scientist had said this very last sentence. But the key was never found. And over and over again the scientist stooped over tables and figures until his eyes went each in a different direction. If he only knew, Nameless Andrew thought, that there were so many different kinds of figures and shapes worthier to watch. If he knew. Nameless Andrew smiled, and began to resemble the way the scientist looked when about to make an earthshaking discovery.

"Completely in love," the scientist suddenly said. "I can hardly believe it. Loving a woman who wanted to wipe the floor with him not so long ago."

"She did not," Nameless Andrew said in a childish manner.

"Did too," the scientist rejoined sarcastically. "I always thought mutuality was the most vital thing if a relationship was to work. Any relationship for that matter. But you proved me wrong again." Nameless Andrew wanted to say something, but the scientist's countenance made him change his mind. "When will you learn? She's just using you. Against me. It's all part of the scheme. She doesn't really want you. She's the general."

"So what?"

"She is the system."

"She is a beautiful woman," Nameless Andrew shouted angrily.

They stared at each other in silence for a while. Then the scientist said calmly: "I'm sorry. It's simply that I cannot forget the way she treated you. The way she treats you."

"And how is that?" Nameless Andrew asked.

"You keep sending flowers to her. You keep spoiling her. That isn't the way it should work. Was there or wasn't there an emancipation? Or was it an emancipation without mutuality? Yes to everything that was favourable, no to everything that wasn't, that's the way she thinks. We'll take revenge on men for the sufferings and all the suppression in the past. We'll do that on today's men. Not for a moment realizing that conditions were different altogether in the past. There were no machines, brute force was necessary for the simplest of tasks. That is why men went to work and women stayed at home. After all, men are stronger by nature. And if I remember correctly there were women leaders in the past as well, just think of the countless queens who ruled for decades." The scientist stopped speaking for a second. "But you had to fall for her. Why? What is her secret? Is it that she's so distant?"

"No," Nameless Andrew answered. "She is pretty, charming, intelligent, funny..."

The scientist laughed loudly interrupting his enumeration. Nameless Andrew was sour.

"Quite an amusing model," the scientist said.

"A what?"

"A model. Of course, I guess I can't say that my model of her is much better than yours."

"I think you're completely mad," Nameless Andrew remarked listlessly.

"No. You see, when one thinks of something or someone one creates an image of the object or person. This image is always subjective, as there is no objectivity, and an oversimplified version of the real thing. An abstract. That is what a model is. I think of the general as an enemy, you as an adorable woman. We have two completely conflicting models of the same person. Probably we are both missing some details. I believe I'm right, and so do you that you're right."

"I don't believe in anything," Nameless Andrew said. "But naturally I am right."

The scientist started wiping his spectacles. This was a sign of a prolonged debate. "Everyone believes in something. If in nothing other than existing. I have heard the sentence you just said many, many times before. From people who, I thought, should have known better. I, for instance, believe that what I observe is real. I believe the baron is my adversary. I believe in the model I have created for myself about the Universe. But it is only a belief, a model, for proof I have none. You see, a given model might be more efficient than another might be at a given time in describing or solving a given problem. But that does not mean it is more right than the other. For what is the essence of science? I believe it is to provide alternatives, different ways and methods to solve a problem. Alternatives are the key issue in my view. Models seek to provide alternatives. Let me illustrate my point. Assume there is a patient who is sick. In the past this patient's disease would have been deadly. Thus in the past there was only one alternative for the patient, namely to die. In the meantime, a cure was found, but it caused great pain. At this point a patient with this disease could have chosen two alternatives, namely to die or to suffer, but survive. But now," the scientist raised his voice and pointed a finger upwards, "a cure was found without causing pain. This yielded a sum of three alternatives for the patient. However the search still goes on to find measures to prevent the disease from occurring or developing in the first place. Other alternatives are sought. And to find the different alternatives models are created of the disease. But remember, models are all bound to fail. Even if there was a perfect model available, we probably wouldn't be able to recognise that we had a perfect model nor prove it. Take another example. There is an ongoing search to find a very small particle that makes up the Universe. Assume it was found. Could we then claim that we had the ultimate substance that is the basis of everything? No, absolutely not. All we could say would be that we have found a particle that makes up the Universe according to our currently applied and accepted model. That's all."

"Then there is no perfect model."

"Really? But by saying that there is no perfect model you created, indeed, a perfect model completely negating your own statement. Such questions and statements constitute vicious circles in our logic, and when attempting to answer such a question you are confronted by another question and so on. Finally, you arrive back at your original question, solving nothing. There are questions which are better to be left untouched."

"Isn't that in essence an escape? An escape from the great questions?"

"You may believe that it is an unscientific attitude. But tell me then this," the scientist put on his glasses, "what are the great questions?"

Nameless Andrew was in thoughts for a while. Then he said: "Who are we? What is the importance of our lives? Is there a God? Where do we come from?"

"I can answer the questions only from my point of view," the scientist answered. "We are what we believe we are. You have heard the saying that the insane are the truly happy and satisfied, have you not? They are insane because they entirely believe in their convictions. Unalterably. As for what the importance of our lives is, I don't know. Sometimes I see no purpose of my life. The battle which goes on seems remote and unimportant, or at best boring. You see, science can be very boring at times. But it is important to generate interest at such times. To achieve anything one needs to work constantly and aggressively. There can be no ups and downs. If one loses the grip it will take a long time to rewind. Wasted time. And right now I am running out of time... Is there a God? There is in as much we cannot disprove Him. I hope there isn't a God as depicted by some religions, because then he would be the ultimate dictator. As for the last question, I never cared too much where I came from. I have always felt that it was more important where one was going than where one came from."

"But aren't you then saying that the past is unimportant? But don't our roots determine who we are? Can we entirely disconnect ourselves from our surroundings?"

"No," the scientist answered, suspecting that Nameless Andrew has not yet finished.

"Do you think that we can completely change over time? What are we without our past? Do you think there is a future without the past? What matters if not the past?"

The scientist was silenced. He rather glimpsed at his tube containing the jelly-like substance, ostensibly occupied with it. But then suddenly he said, evading Nameless Andrew's questions: "Perhaps we are both right about the general. We have two seemingly conflicting ideas of her..."

"Then how can both of us be right?" asked Nameless Andrew interrupting the scientist. The scientist frowned. He didn't like to be interrupted.

"It is possible," he said. "Let us, once again take an example. What is time? Someone may claim that time is a measure of changes. With this definition in mind we can securely conclude that time passes more quickly where more changes occur. On the other hand, one may postulate time to be a constant throughout the Universe. Although these two definitions seem to contradict each other, I see no reason why both couldn't hold simultaneously. The correctness and falsehood of these statements depend upon what model one uses. Again, one of these definitions might be more convenient to solve a given problem than the other. What I cannot say is that one of them is more correct than the other. This would lead to another vicious circle. There was a time, when I was younger, when I saw things differently. I had a maths teacher more pious than anyone I have met since. I thought this was an impossibility. How could someone believe in God and also believe in logic? This was a paradox to me. I perceived logic as the absolute method. But then one day I asked myself: isn't logic illogical itself? Isn't it illogical that it works so brilliantly in some cases and fails so miserably in others? Perhaps these questions seem rather absurd and irrelevant. The point I would like to convey to you is that although manifestations might be different, the causes, reasons or physical laws governing them are the same. But the latter are like infinity, one can never reach them, it is only through the manifestations that one tries to infer what they may be." The scientist let the jelly-like substance slide out of the tube right into his hands. "If they exist at all," he added. "It all comes down to beliefs, dreams and emotions. Those are the real driving forces behind any human endeavour." The scientist went silent for a short while. "The problem confronting us today is that there is only one accepted model of the Universe, the others are all said to be incorrect. There is only one correct way of life. It is the baron's model. It is the baron's lifestyle."

****

Nameless Andrew could hardly believe that he had survived. He lay unconscious for some time after hitting his head on the control panel. Now he was floating in the airplane, which by some unexplainable luck remained in one piece. He thought this crash was inevitable, it would have occurred eventually. The engines were old and rusty, and with each flight less reliable. Then they finally had given way somewhere between the mainland and the island. He was returning to the island after a hectic night with the general. He often visited her nowadays. He thought she was charming and intelligent, a woman who knew precisely how to satisfy him. The only thing he disliked about her was the unending speeches she gave while he lay half-conscious, and simply wanted to embrace her. Of course, the theme always concerned the scientist of whom she spoke with little regard. He wished he was able to rejoin her statements if only for once, but he was lamed and numbed. He was sure this was all part of an elaborate plan.

He peered out of the shattered windshield and thanked Heaven for the calm ocean. It was dawning. The early sunlight lit up the willows, and he rocked very gently while watching the disarrayed control panel. None of the devices worked, he was unable to call for help. He drifted with the elements.

His thoughts wandered back to her. He thought she was too smart, too independent, seemingly in no way vulnerable. He liked that, and yet was bothered by it. He felt he had only a minor role in her life. A nighttime pleasure or perhaps a tool against the scientist. Nothing more. He always noticed a cool reserve in her eyes. He wanted to open up to her, but her piercing and investigating look always changed his mind. This was a different look than the scientist's, in some ways more discomforting, because he perceived a hidden grudge depicted in the general's mesmerizing eyes. He had questioned her about this, but she managed to evade answering by talking about something entirely different. When he was fretted due to her silence or disappointing replies, she tried to satisfy and calm him in other ways. After a while, he had grown used to being angered in order to collect the reward. He began to pretend. His inquiries had lost their vigour; he staged them more for the sake of wont than for truly expecting answers. In addition, they had depleted all possible topics except the one relating to the ongoing negotiations between the scientist and the baron, which the general always attempted to broach. Unsuccessfully. He didn't understand the negotiations wholly, and he feared he might squeal something that could have put his employer in an awkward situation. Therefore, he had held his tongue. Thus, they had had fairly little to speak about, their relationship had foundered. But he couldn't help going back to her, the general's eyes compelled him. But he didn't know what compelled her. He wondered. He could never be sure whether she was to come to meet him or not. She was unpredictable. He was jealous of her armada of friends, whom she always had to kiss all over when they met. At such times he had simply stood by refraining himself from using some brute force, because despite all his differences with the general he loved her. But did she love him? Or was he all part of her job? He simply couldn't know for sure. His own identity had suffered greatly while working for the scientist, or rather listening to the scientist, and he was nearly deprived of it when she lectured him. He felt like a bouncing ball, which everyone kicked a little, but no one knew where it would end up. What worried him was that he personally had no idea in which direction he was heading. Even the scientist had begun to remark that he had changed from a brute to a semi-intelligent person. He had to thank him for these complements, although he had been keener to punch him or grab him by the throat. He thought the scientist had aristocratic and snob tendencies that made him sound and act extravagantly mad now and then. The scientist had explained this had been due to him absorbing Nameless Andrew's lost impulsiveness and was not at all smugness. Yet, the scientist reasoned, he hadn't been able to accommodate this gained personality into his own, and thus the turmoil involved with accommodation turned outside and resulted in raging. This had been unpleasant for everyone and everything unfortunate enough to exist in the vicinity at such times, because the scientist was preternaturally strong despite his meagre body. He crushed chairs, the laboratory equipment was shattered, and co-workers scarred. Others, including Nameless Andrew, had accounted successive failures for the scientist's behaviour. It seemed the scientist was unable to digest failure.

Nameless Andrew scrambled out of the cockpit onto the top of the airplane, and basked in the morning sun, while massaging his forehead. The weather was excellent, a slight breeze steered his craft. He felt secure and at ease. He wouldn't have minded to starve to death right there, or to be dehydrated by the sun. The ongoing war was far, the ocean was kind. He let himself be rocked into a doze. In the meantime, he was unwittingly floating away from land, advancing deeper and deeper towards the open sea. Nor was he aware of the sharks, whose interest had been attracted by the shabby craft and kept circling it. They had appeared all of a sudden out of the blue. There were a lot of small fish among them, no doubt expecting some crumbs of meat from the sharks. But, at present, they had to wait. The prey lay safely and soundly on top of the airplane for the time being unconscious of the fact that tempest clouds were gathering on the horizon. The sharks knew though. They were also sure once the storm arrived they could have their feast. They were very smart, patient and well organized creatures.

When Nameless Andrew awoke and first spotted the sharks he was amused and mistakenly believed them to be dolphins. They had a dolphin-like appearance indeed. He was certainly easily fooled. But then one of them made an ambitious jump towards him, and its teeth left no doubt as to its being. Nameless Andrew groaned. His fists were useless against such adversaries, slippery and beyond his reach, nor had he any weapons. The only thing he could do was to shrink himself on the top of the plane and watch as the clouds slowly stained the sky grey-white. Somehow, the thought of being sunk among a dozen or so sharks made him shiver. It was an unworthy death against which he couldn't protect himself in any way. The situation started to look hopeless. The craft was continuously filling with water, flowing through small chinks and cracks, the results of the crash. Consequently, the plane was sinking. He was angered, because there wasn't anything he could do, he was left to the mercy of the elements and the sharks, both of them merciless.

He had been misled by the calmness of the ocean earlier, and this displeased him the most. The scientist had been proven to be right, he was easily manipulated, he believed the apparent. Was this so concerning the general as well? He dreaded to think her love was pretended, that she had a greater devotion to her cause than to him. But it was possible. As much a fool he had been everything was possible. And what about the scientist? What was his role in his plans? Perhaps bait for the baron. Certainly, the concocted explanations of the scientist regarding his employment seemed at best ludicrous to him now. He was supposed to be the sensitive and impulsive right arm of the scientist. What a joke, he thought. Maybe no one had been telling him the truth. Then again, the scientist detested using words like good, evil, truth, right, absolute etc. So he had been telling him the truth satisfying one model, but not another, Nameless Andrew argued.

Considering these details his plight seemed no longer miserable, at least he knew what to expect from the sharks. Their pretension of being dolphins was simply revealed, their plans were obvious. Nameless Andrew thought it was better to die this way after all than to serve as a tool in someone's hand for some obscure and abstract reason he couldn't care for any less. Here he knew the purpose he was serving in form of a good meal. It was comforting to know the purpose. His purpose. This was the first time in his life he believed to have known.

But he couldn't fulfil his purpose. As the clouds gathered into a storm and the first drops of rain merged with the grey sea the scientist emerged with a new catamaran. Nameless Andrew contemplated before eventually stepping into the ship.

****

"Come on," she said.

He still hesitated for a moment, but the general in a white transparent cloak was hardly a woman he could refuse. She knew how to turn him on; she knew that she was beautiful. It was a dangerous combination, Nameless Andrew thought as he was dragged along by her holding hand. There was no escape for him now; he stepped inside the tomb of the sect of love. It was the meeting place for an organization renowned and notorious for the brutal executions its members committed in the name of love. They specialized in killing the famous, the rich or anyone with differing political views. It had been an unpleasant surprise when the general told him that she was the leader of the sect. He asked her right afterwards whether she would have eliminated him as well if he called the police. She simply smiled at him and answered that no one would have believed his story anyway. Besides, she probably would have eliminated him, because no love could be strong enough to endure a treachery like that. For some reason he hadn't made any phone calls on that day.

On the other hand, he felt that entrusting him with this secret was truly proof of her devotion and love, because this information could have destroyed the general. The baron, unnerved of the disappearance or murder of his best agents, had put unravelling the sect on top of his agenda, second only to the negotiations with the scientist. The secret thus bound Nameless Andrew and the general together by jeopardizing their existence if found out. This wasn't a bond Nameless Andrew wished for, but he was left with no other alternatives than to accept the situation as it was at present. His relationship with the general led to unforeseen depths of misery and dark corners he didn't know how to avert.

The tomb was occupied by lightly dressed individuals, their faces showing signs of prolonged exposure to the narcotizing smoke filling the place. Their eyes protruded and were swollen, and reminded Nameless Andrew of a pilot he had seen, whose features were distorted beyond recognition after excessive acceleration. He hoped the ceremony, or as the general had called it, the meeting, would be quickly over.

They cut through the crowd, the members forming a wall on both sides while clapping their hands. A podium stood opposite from where they had entered to which they ascended. Nameless Andrew noticed the smoke didn't rise beyond his feet once up there. It gave him the impression as if being above the clouds, which he deduced, must have been the idea. The members looked up at the half-Goddess, unattainable and beautiful beyond imagination, the effect enhanced by the narcotizing agent. Nameless Andrew glimpsed at the general's victorious countenance and thought this wasn't the woman he had fallen in love with. His model was inadequate to describe her, he pondered sarcastically, as the scientist would have put it with his usual lack of enthusiasm concerning such matters. It was a moment of disillusion meant for Nameless Andrew. He could overlook the general's coquettishness, but not the bloodthirstiness now showing on her cheeks.

He became aloof when she started addressing the gathering, watching the events from an insuperable distance. He wished he were far away, beyond the reach of the baron, the general and the scientist. But he knew of no such place. Wherever he went, he was confronted with at least one of them. He wished he lived in prehistoric ages, when brute force and simple cunning had decided life and death. He would have folded the baron into a cylinder, rolled him down a mountaintop, kicked the scientist off his artificial cliffs into the sea filled with sharks, and beaten the hell out of the general. He imagined her in prehistoric clothing with prehistoric intelligence meaning neither lectures nor slyness enough to rule a sect. She was adorable and desirable that way. On the other hand, without her lectures and slyness, she was nothing more than a skeleton, a sexual object, he thought.

At this point Nameless Andrew discovered that his affection for the general was no longer there, he saw only a woman with no respect for others, who used her physical charm to achieve her selfish objectives. Yet, when the general held his hand and raised it above their heads while continuing speaking, he felt an urge to embrace her and never let go. He gathered this was a sexual impulse he had no control over. He looked down at the crowd and despised those more than he had ever thought was possible. Their delirium-filled eyes showed no signs of intelligence; they were the lowest kind he had seen so far. They did as they were told without any questions asked, committing suicide with mirth if required by their Goddess.

Suddenly the general released his hand, and kissed him theatrically. "The power of love," she shouted hoarsely and emphatically, "will make this man strong enough to deal with his oppressor once and for all." He was stunned that she had called him a man, as if he had just popped into her life. And what oppressor was she talking about? "The scientist must be eliminated, because he hates love and everyone who loves. Kill Him!" she stirred up the crowd with success. In a moment, the pathetic figures all shouted: "Kill Him, Kill Him!" The general whispered into his ears: "Do it for me", and smiled at him the way she knew made him shiver in excitement. "Kill Him, and I'll always be yours."

Nameless Andrew was silent, the crowd more and more aggressive. "Say yes," the general told him and stared at him summoning all her charm in one blink. He shook his head. In response, she looked at him with hate. "Say yes, or the crowd will grind you to dust. Do it," the general ordered him. "Obey."

Nameless Andrew looked around, saw maniacs and uttered in despair: "Yes, I will do it."

****

He collided with the scientist in one of the hallways. He was about to ascend to the surface when this incident occurred. He almost banned being entirely under the influence of the sect episode, which he tried not to deal with in vain, because not thinking of it didn't allow him to think of anything else either. He became somewhat paralyzed and dispatched of the world's happenings.

"How are you?" the scientist asked more out of politeness than of interest.

"Fine," he murmured morosely.

"Heard the news on the news channel? They finally found a flying saucer they claimed."

"No, have heard nothing of it," Nameless Andrew said, while definitely not looking at the scientist.

"This is a typical baron trick. Very soon the whole affair will be denied by the military and high-ranking officials. You see, sometimes the baron tells the truth he believes in when he denies things. But he denies them so vehemently that people start to think. And they think exactly what the baron wants them to think. It's an indirect control. Brilliantly applied. Of course, I do not deny the possibility of extraterrestrial life, in fact, probability indicates its existence simply because the Universe is so immense, but I doubt any of these news could be true. For if I am so developed as to traverse space from one planet to the other then hiding myself should be a triviality. Besides, why should these highly developed creatures care about us? Perhaps they are already here, and we simply do not recognise them, because they look just like us. Either due to natural evolution or self-construction."

"Perhaps you are one of them," Nameless Andrew said.

The scientist laughed, then continued pacing along the corridor.

****

A historic moment was in the making. The conference hall was filled with prominent delegates once again, all sitting around the oval table in great anticipation. The baron and the scientist had drawn the outlines of a compromise, a draft document that was meant to end the raging battle. It had been astonishing that the baron had been willing to yield important concessions literally from one moment to the next. The scientist had argued the baron had realized power had been slipping out of his hands, and the best he could do was to compromise. That is, give up some power to retain the remaining. There were many contestants for the baron's position lately, attacking him from all sides. He seemed less and less able to protect himself, although must have believed an alliance with the scientist would have given him the upper hand again. Even now there was a vice sitting next to him, quite different in character, being lean and with hooked nose. A vice character indeed.

But what made the scientist commit himself to a compromise when victory was so close? The foundations of the baron's empire were crumbling; cracks were emerging on the walls of the skyscrapers. It was just a matter of time before the baron would go under. Obviously, the scientist wasn't interested in destruction, he didn't wish the skyscrapers to collapse.

Nameless Andrew looked at the vice on one side of the baron opposite to him, and then at the general on the other side. For a moment, he felt sympathy for the bulky peanut eater, and agreed fully with the scientist's decision. The baron was still the best option for a swift and peaceful transition, one requiring no martyrs or heroes. He was still the most decent of the lot among the vultures and sect leaders, who would have torn everything to pieces once he was gone, good or bad, useful or waste. To them only powered mattered, power, which they could use to control others. Neither the scientist nor the baron wanted a disassembling of order and law, this was one of the few common views they shared. The baron, old and weakened, became a mild dictator fearing anarchy. Fear made him hesitant and disorganized, attracting numerous possible usurpers. The baron relied more and more on the general and the vice seeing in them his only allies. If he knew, Nameless Andrew thought. And if the scientist knew. Nameless Andrew wanted to tell him about the sect, about her, but he had been stunned that each time he broached this topic the scientist simply ignored him. In fact, the scientist's dislike of the general had dampened with time; he had stopped criticizing him for his relationship with her. It seemed he had accepted the ostensible state of affairs. Nameless Andrew resented the scientist's attitude, he felt his employer became less wary and prudent, overlooking vital details. This was true also for the research the scientist conducted; he began to neglect it. He didn't rage any more over failures in the laboratory and had even elaborated a systematic plan to lower the artificial gates and let the ocean into the lagoon. Nameless Andrew had tried to point out the sharks swimming by the cliffs, awaiting a chink to appear, clearing their way in to the shallow water, but the scientist never heeded his warnings. He was sure of himself. Too sure.

Nameless Andrew was quite confused for his part, deadlocked over what to do or what not to do. But he realized he had to do something before it was too late. He stared at the general, wondering. She looked at him and there was a glance of a smile on her face. Her eyes told a different story though, stained with anger and demand. He could always hear her telling him, whispering into his ear: "Kill Him! Kill!" She was waiting. The sect was waiting. His time was running out, he could read it in her eyes as she frowned. However, he had no intentions of keeping his promise, a promise he had made under enormous pressure. He was about to kill no one. Unless..., he couldn't believe he was thinking this, if not her. On the other hand, she was hardly an angel; her hands were marked by blood. But had he the right to judge others? She wasn't perfect, but perhaps there were details unknown to him, which could explain her actions, and mitigate her sentence. As long as she didn't attack him overtly, he decided not to take any hasty action against her.

"I suggest," the scientist said, his silvery eyes filled with the expression of joy, "that we advance the deadline set forward in the document regarding its implementation."

"I agree," answered the baron. "I see no reason..."

"I can't believe this," the general peered at the baron scoldingly. "Give even more concessions and get nothing in return? I am afraid I can't ratify the document as it is. I certainly disapprove of any more changes contrary to our interests. But you are right in that changes are needed, changes in our favour."

"Naturally the general is right," said the vice; the businessman nodded in agreement.

After this there was a sudden moment of silence followed by agitation unparalleled and not experienced on earlier meetings. There were more than two teams this time, everyone was his own team. Everyone had an idea of his own. The delegates gesticulated, articulated, spat incomprehensible words or half-sentences at each other or for that matter whatever they had in their mouths. The scientist and the baron looked at each other disappointed. Nameless Andrew knew they were disappointed of themselves, the ongoing shouting was proof in itself of the imminent turmoil. They were both powerless. He tried to quiet the delegates and return order, but his efforts were in vain. The room was soon in disarray, paper, pens and other articles covering the floor, some people grabbing others' hair and fighting it out to the last drop of blood.

"Call me," the scientist told the baron.

"That's all?" the baron asked.

"That's all," the scientist said before he and Nameless Andrew left the premises.

****

Nameless Andrew was wandering in the underground complex. He still couldn't map it entirely, it seemed to him that it was in continuous enlargement. He opened door after door, passed hallway after hallway, but there was no end to the labyrinth. It was difficult, if not impossible to tell which hallway he had been in earlier, because there were no signs, everything was of the same size and shape. He didn't know what purpose this labyrinth had served, there were no instruments or laboratories except for a small inner circle. Sometimes he got lost, and the scientist had to come to his rescue. The scientist knew his way around, knew the precise location of every nook, corner and hallway. He gave no information though how such a mapping was possible without any gadgets. Perhaps the scientist memorized the details of the complex, Nameless Andrew thought. On the other hand, this notion appeared rather implausible to him, because the scientist found cramming to be absolutely undesirable and counter effective. He believed that useful ideas were the ones derived from simple common sense, and relied heavily on mathematics in everything he did. And mathematics seemed to work alright in the laboratory.

"Lost again?" the scientist inquired, unexpectedly emerging at a crossing of two hallways, cutting his thread of thoughts. "Follow me," he said, and Nameless Andrew did so as a robot, no questions asked. Although unaware of the exact location they were heading, Nameless Andrew was certain they were advancing to an outer ring he had never been to before. There was nothing to distinguish this part from the others of course; it was just his sixth sense telling him so. He also felt they were descending deeper and deeper, possibly to the deepest region of the labyrinth. At the end of their journey, a large and conical space awaited them, totally empty except for a stand in the middle. Their steps echoed from the walls as they went to this stand.

"Here it is," the scientist pointed to a red button on the surface of the rack. "The red button."

The scientist looked at him, his eyes showing ominous signs. They stared at each other for a while. This was the scientist he had seen raging. As he examined the smallest details of him, he was shaken to discover that this was a different person than the one who had drafted the compromise. Unrelenting and dangerous.

"You think I am crazy, don't you?" he asked. "Well, I am not. Only my patience is running out. I stretch out my hand and all they do is spit in it. Do you see that button? It decides between life and death. I punch it and it's all over. The baron, the general and you vanish forever. Everyone disappears."

"But then you will be alone," Nameless Andrew rejoined.

"I have always been alone," the scientist hissed. "No matter what I did, no matter how good I was I have always been unwanted," he said with sorrow. "So much about being alone."

The scientist stooped over the red button, polished it with his sleeve. Nameless Andrew was ready to push him away before he could punch the button, if it was necessary. However, after circling the stand a couple of times, the scientist's face lightened and his crooked back straightened. He wasn't as frightening any more.

"Anyway, I still haven't given up hope. Strange, isn't it? I still have hope, despite what I perceive as reality has provided me with no positive signs." This was the countenance of the scientist more familiar to him, generously sombre, a man more likely to commit suicide than homicide. The emotionless character of his truly developed into a maze since they had first met, Nameless Andrew thought. Was he in any way responsible for this, or was he only an adequate scapegoat? It was certainly correct to say that his aggressiveness decreased drastically, but how this could be linked to the scientist's mood swings seemed to him obscure. Perhaps he had always been like that, Nameless Andrew simply hadn't noticed it in the beginning. In any case with the power the scientist was endowed these mood fluctuations represented a frightening possibility of destruction. Nameless Andrew thought he was surrounded by maniacs, depressed individuals with a great amount of self-loathing. They even made him consider things making him profoundly despise himself.

"I have created something brilliant," the scientist exclaimed smiling, his voice echoing, and then slowly dying away in the distance, reminding Nameless Andrew of a creek's plashing. "I call it the perfect machine. Do not be misled by the word perfect. It isn't supposed to mean a flawless machine. It is rather something capable of achieving its goals by trial and error, eventually succeeding. It can adapt to any situation." The scientist wiped his glasses, allowed a light stream to be scattered on their surface, and then dropped them and stepped on them accompanied by a sigh of relief. He then said: "I am the perfect machine." The scientist looked at Nameless Andrew expecting an expression of surprise, instead finding one of astonishment and fright.

They stared at each other for a while. "My eyes will soon adapt," the scientist said. "You see, I am not bound to my body longer, or to its deficiencies. This is the most primitive and inefficient lifeform I exist in. The others are much better."

"The others?"

"Yes. Now I can exist at different places simultaneously, shape myself as I will. I can attend conferences and at the same time work. I don't need sleep. I have an army of myselves." The scientist went silent for an instant. "To destroy the perfect machine one has to destroy all its subunits simultaneously. If one unit survives, the machine continues to function normally and regenerates itself, because all its subunits contain the complete knowledge of the whole. I am thus relatively invincible and immortal."

"But then why compromise?" Nameless Andrew asked. "You can do anything you wish."

"Not entirely. I have never so far sacrificed my notions for any objective. That is why I was ready to compromise. Not compromising would have meant that in order to achieve my aims I would have had to overrule my own rules of conduct, which would have had catastrophic consequences. As a person I would have been no longer." The scientist stopped winking with his eyes. "The culmination of the perfect machine is that it can do anything it can imagine, but not necessarily doing everything it can imagine. I look at destruction as purposeless and abhorrent, yet when I perceive the way I'm treated I begin to wonder." The scientist exceeded his arms towards him theatrically. "They refused the compromise. I've got another no. I'm tired of getting nos. That's what I get all the time. No, no, no, no. No more nos." The scientist went around the stand, his white cloak seemingly tightening on his body. Not quite, it was rather the other way around; the scientist was becoming bulkier, but still remaining very lean.

Nameless Andrew watched in disbelief as his employer began to resemble him in physical appearance more and more, while treading on the shattered glasses as he was circling him. What if the scientist was to be stronger than him, Nameless Andrew asked himself, a fearful vision passing through him. It was an idea completely novel to him; he had never been weaker than anyone before. He had always been physically superior.

The scientist looked deep into his eyes and smiled paternally. "You fear, you're afraid all the time. Fear is an integral part of your existence. And you even accept it so. I don't. Fear and pain must be dealt with. The perfect machine means no pain and no sorrow." The scientist was nearly of his size now. "This is my only lifeform which feels pain and fear. I fear I shall eventually give up my notions, because I will have no other alternative to implement my ideas. I feel pain, because I am a man on the outside, a man who was excluded from society. You see, I did not search nor want loneliness, it was something inflicted upon me. I always tried to make the best use of what I've got, I grew on my weaknesses so to say. This was what I told myself for a long time. I also told myself that the day would come when I would be accepted and respected, even if not loved. The latter is something I believe I will never receive. But from the perspective of the perfect machine it doesn't matter, since it is the one-man-state. Every function is fulfilled by it, it needs no one. This is the main reason why I called it perfect. In my past life I couldn't rely on anyone, I was always cheated and from this my desire stemmed to become independent in every possible way. I created the island, the complex, energy sources. Everything. Until recently, I thought the payday would come sooner or later, I even agreed to a compromise. But now the likelihood of my acceptance is fading, and with it the machine is shifting from this lifeform in front of you to others, which are in no way attached to society nor wish to be nor deplore destruction. Of course, those lifeforms are me as well. Funny, isn't it?"

"Not exactly", Nameless Andrew said, ascertaining that the scientist ceased growing.

"Naturally it isn't funny. It's rather angering. Not as angering though as the way those little puppets handled the compromise."

Nameless Andrew babbled something incomprehensible. He wanted to tell the scientist about the general, but found his tongue lamed. He realized this was so for whatever he would have said the scientist wouldn't have listened, being greatly biased. Besides, his employer didn't seem to be a person one could feel sorry for, now he was strong, vital and dangerous. Nameless Andrew stood motionless and powerless; he was drifting on an unknown path towards an unknown location.

****

The baron looked surprised and confused when seeing the new scientist barely leaner than Nameless Andrew. He himself had lost weight in the meantime; there were neither peanuts nor chips in front of him presently. His eyes were wrinkled; his forehead creased showing how little sleep he had had since their previous meeting. Nameless Andrew thought he resembled a withered apple from which the substance was completely gone. The baron reminded him of the way he had visualized great emperors of the past right before their execution. The glowing and suspicious eyes vibrating left to right, the shaking hands and the irregular breathing were all signs of total mental and consequently physical collapse.

The baron folded his fingers to keep them from trembling and said hoarsely, making him sound almost as whispering: "After long and arduous negotiations, checking and double checking I have managed to convince all major parties about the necessity, urgency and correctness of the draft document we had made. However, there are some minor details which must be clarified, because of their ambiguous nature."

The baron's scarlet eyes grazed on the few delegates, including the general, the businessman and the vice before continuing. "Also, in the first part relating to past activities one must make precise distinctions between the conduct of the Group of Five, later Three and the implementation by other subdivisions. These must not be mixed."

The scientist laughed heartily, his teeth shining white, not at all similar to the cavity stricken jaw he had been once so keen to hide. "That is to say you reject sharing blame for causing illegalities, constructional blunders and the like. You thereby want to achieve impunity, not only in a legal, but also in a moral sense. I am afraid I cannot agree to such a motion."

The baron's cheeks lost the little ruddiness they still had, it seemed all the blood was pumped to his eyes due to the response from the scientist he hadn't expected. Pale white, his whole career and reputation was in shambles. The general, quite alive and agile, was prepared opportunistically for this possibility, and saw her chance for tumbling the baron had arrived.

"In that case," she said charmingly in her most seductive manner, "I'm sorry, but the whole future of the compromise is in danger. We, and here I speak in the name of the whole organization, have already sacrificed so much that any more would jeopardize our future. The alteration of the first part of the document must therefore happen before we give our consent."

The rest of the delegates minus the baron nodded in agreement. The scientist made a whole range of faces, from listless to annoyed, his silvery eyes scanning the room, while his fingers tapping on the table. Nameless Andrew glanced at the general to discover no kind expressions on her countenance towards him. In fact she was as cold and distant as if they were total strangers. He felt sadness, something lost he could not retrieve.

"I think, despite of the fact the conference has just commenced, holding a break now would be a very wise thing," the scientist said, to which everyone consented.

Nameless Andrew wanted to have some fresh air and so left the premises. He climbed to the top of the skyscraper, where the wind played a perpetual symphony. The roof was barren, there were only a few remnants of an attempt to cultivate some flowers or bush here; but the altitude was too great and the wind from the open sea too prevailing for the saplings to survive. Nameless Andrew glimpsed down at the mobile metropolis below, there was an effervescence of lights in the night sky and the blowing sound of wind. Then after a while with his teeth chattering, he returned to the conference hall just to experience the greatest disappointment of his lifetime.

The general and the vice were having a very sensual chat. She was laughing and occasionally whispering into his ears, both of them very much enjoying themselves. The silence and tension around them were accentuating their blissful mood even more. Nameless Andrew felt he was losing his temper. He staggered to his chair while watching the two lovebirds very carefully. The general was frivolous and shameless. So, this was the way it was, he thought nearly swallowing his tongue.

The scientist noticed him being upset immediately and told him: "People like power. They can hardly define what they mean by it, it's something impalpable and yet mighty and awesome. The general sees power in the vice, and this makes him sexually very interesting."

Nameless Andrew nodded, infuriated; he tolerated rejection even less than the scientist did. And clearly, he was dumped by the general. He felt like a fool, a play doll, that once satisfied its user, but was now thrown away by the bored princess, who sought other adventures and challenges. Their relationship turned sour since the sect incident, that was true, but Nameless Andrew believed it could be revived somehow, in the worst case they would take farewell in dignity. It seemed the general had thought it out differently. In the middle of her love chat with the vice, she glimpsed at him conveying a message he could not misunderstand. The majestically condescending look, "the you wanted it so," smile butchered his still existing hope, and incited aggressiveness in him not felt since he had become employed by the scientist. He was the man of yesterday, an ancient figure who resolved his differences with others by brute force, and kept his women under close surveillance. Someone who dealt with creatures believing they could play games with him. He wanted to kill the vice and make the general suffer.

"After careful considerations," the scientist said after all the delegates had found their way back, "I have come to the conclusion that a slight alteration of the now existing document would still be a better alternative than no compromise whatsoever. Therefore..."

Nameless Andrew was petrified. He could hardly believe what the scientist was saying. How could he humble himself so much when he had the upper hand, the perfect machine? Why didn't he use the perfect machine? Nameless Andrew certainly wouldn't have contemplated punching the red button that instant. He wanted revenge, which was as sweet to him as a sexual intercourse. He stood up, leaned on the table and stuttered inarticulately: "No compromises, you little shit! You'll pay." The you'll pay part was intended for the general and the vice, who certainly turned pale at once. "The perfect machine will take care of you."

At this stage something utterly unexpected happened. The scientist pulled Nameless Andrew backwards and then punched him on the chin. Merely a moment later, he landed on the floor, his nose bleeding. Nameless Andrew could have averted the blow undoubtedly, but it was so sudden and an action so unlike the scientist that he simply couldn't believe it. He lay on the floor in a pool of blood with a somewhat shaken mind.

****

The compromise was signed despite Nameless Andrew's attempt to stop it. He, for his part, was recuperating from the punch he had received for quite some time, resting in bed and musing about his life. Even now, he had dreams of the general now and then, although he thought the resemblance was only physical between dream and reality. For his reality was very murky. He was out of touch with the rest of the world; the island was a sanctuary and a prison as well. He felt like a foreigner everywhere for he belonged nowhere. His roots had been cut off including the ones he tried to strike in the meantime. He was a tuber, which had stopped short of becoming a real plant. He blamed himself for everything that had or hadn't occurred to him, and spent his time glaring at the rigid walls as if he was sentenced.

But eventually he got tired of resting and thus wandered off in the labyrinth once again. And as usual he got lost, he couldn't find his way back despite drawing a sketch of the path he had taken, the hallways seemed to have changed location relative to each other. Yet, he could perceive no signs of movement, there was no noise or trembling or a sixth sense feeling. There was, indeed, a room where his was supposed to be, but it certainly wasn't his. It was much bigger, and the walls were covered by posters of all sizes. He was amazed, and wondered why he hadn't stumbled upon this room before. Then he concluded the answer to be obvious, it was definitely not a room the scientist would have wished to be discovered by anyone. Perhaps his employer thought he was resting, and allowed himself some carelessness.

Nameless Andrew walked around, looked at the posters of loosely dressed and naked women, and then noticed a glass-fronted cabinet containing dozens of magazines and other articles of unknown nature. He was interested, his melancholy suddenly disappeared. He went to the glass-fronted cabinet and took out a magazine from the middle. He browsed for a while and was disgusted by the violence and perversity of the pictures he was looking at. He had never seen anything like them before, and he had certainly never thought he would find such things on the island. He put down the magazine and examined the countless gadgets scattered around, which proved to be stimulators of different kinds. From a mechanical point of view, they were brilliant constructions, finely worked out to the smallest detail, and no doubt each one of a kind, not mass products. On the other hand, they were disturbing in that they indicated a sick mind, which Nameless Andrew happened to know was also a great mind. He turned on some of the devices and listened to their gargling, while he sat down. He was quite unaware of the time that passed; he dozed.

Then unexpectedly: "What...? is going on...?" he heard the scientist exclaim and jumped to his feet at once.

"It's only me," he said awkwardly.

The scientist glimpsed at him surprised and embarrassed. In fact, they were both embarrassed.

"Well," the scientist rejoined, "here you have it. You found out what an abhorrent person I am. But before you make any prejudgements you should know about the reason for this place. Yes, everything in this labyrinth has a reason. Where should I start?"

The scientist thought for a while.

"I told you once of the importance of continuous work in science, the need for generating interest at times. It is also important not to allow any emotions to pervade one's work or anything that can distract one's attention. Otherwise all the work to be done will never really get done. I have, as any other member of our species, certain needs despite the fact that now I am also part of the perfect machine, that I am the perfect machine. Yes, this lifeform in front of you needs sleep, nourishment and tender love. Unfortunately, I could never enjoy the latter, but the desire still lingers. At times, I lose concentration, I simply cannot hold my time schedule, it affects me so much. Then I come here. This room is a necessity. It satisfies my needs... My sexual needs. I have never done it with a...," the scientist pursed up his lips and bent his head, "a real woman. I have always failed. Perhaps it was my fault. I haven't been the blond fairy tail prince and yet I have aimed at the most inaccessible women, and naturally got nowhere. Not that the others would have preferred me, of course. Besides, my relationship with women has always been ambiguous, I wasn't sure I wanted to get involved, I could never open up. That was one of the reasons why I hired you. I thought I could learn it from you. Just like learning how to ride a bicycle. Or rather to revive it. It wasn't always like this. When I was young, I was like you. Wild and instinctive. Aggressive. I had many friends, they seemed to like this vitality. But then I became too civilized, full of inhibitions and certainly my physical appearance hasn't helped either. I found myself left out. It was then that I became a scientist. At least numbers don't discriminate, only we do. I tried to reconcile myself with the situation by pretending to be unaffected, as if I didn't need a woman. I talked myself into the idea that a family would only be a hindrance to my work, which was the most important thing to me. Loneliness surely makes one think, but it hardly lets one fly. And then," the scientist winked, "and then I started to hate women. You see, hate is one of the best driving forces, it motivates. Loneliness and hate makes one capable of flying. Possibly not in the right direction, but still... I hated them, because they rejected me, humiliated me, because it was better than hating myself. It was a point of no return, I was excluded from society and I excluded myself even further. Naturally, my ambitions and battle against the baron complicated things, and also occupied me."

The scientist opened his arms, flapped them together, and then systematically turned off the gadgets Nameless Andrew had switched on. Thereafter he continued. "And then I saw you humiliate yourself for the general, and realized it wasn't something I could do. I will never genuflect for anything or anyone. I will not beg for my life, and I will definitely not court like an oversexed gorilla in the woods. It's so primitive. It has always been so primitive. I wanted change; I wanted to change this and many other things."

"But courting is a requirement in a certain way. One has to prove oneself," Nameless Andrew said.

"That is... no doubt correct. But the manner in which it is done is the problem. It is a matter of the romantic model."

"The what?"

"It is something women seep in, learn in childhood. The fairy tail. The blond prince who saves them and rides off with them to wonderland. The fall in love at first sight concept. This latter is something I completely discard as nonsense. And the make him suffer aspect. And when a boy comes to you, dear, don't give yourself easily, play with him, humiliate him. If he does crazy things for you then and only then can you be sure of his true affection. Say no even if you want to say yes, and if you happen to be pretty use the idiots, make them do things for you, and when they would finally think they have made it, say no. Fun and games."

The scientist was sarcastic and angry. He squashed some devices, folded a magazine and tore it to pieces. Then suddenly he was calm and listless. "The romantic model dangerously oversimplifies the world; it creates a euphoria which can be swept away in a bare moment leaving nothing. It is also a model, along with models on which most religions are based on that was created a long, long time ago, and not at all applied or tested by their creators. A paper model. Seemingly, it works brilliantly, but when you put it to the test, it proves completely inadequate. There are no fairy tail princes, who never age and never have a bad day nor are there houses made of honey and chocolate. A romantic person perceives everything rosy. The problem lies in the eventual discovery that not all things are rosy. One has to work on a relationship continuously. It is all about making compromises. I remember a comedy series I once liked about people who always fell out of love because of trivial things, like how the other kisses, laughs, walks, wears a shirt or the sort. In the meantime, they grow old. Then the model comes tumbling down, and it usually ends with suicide."

The scientist sighed and unwrapped himself of his white cloak, he was, indeed, as musculous as Nameless Andrew. He threw the protective clothing on a chair and folded his hands. "As I mentioned I had believed my looks were the main cause of my failures with women. The damned glasses, the meagre body. But now I have to conclude that I thought wrong. I got rid of the spectacles, my once slim body is strong, and yet I never succeed."

"So you have tried since... changing?" Nameless Andrew was surprised.

"Oh, yes. I stole into the city at night, went from bar to bar in search. I put up my best faces, showed off my almost perfect body and...," the scientist strangely couldn't find the right word, "they still said no to me. What do you think, was this because I actually impersonated someone who wasn't really me?"

"I don't know," Nameless Andrew said. "I haven't the faintest idea who you are. Or for that matter who I am. You are a versatile man, this room clearly indicates it. Perhaps the man you felt you were impersonating was you after all. I gather your problem is to be found somewhere else."

"Where?" the scientist looked eagerly at him demanding an answer.

"Have you ever been nice to people other than whom you were interested in?"

"I wanted an answer, not a question," the scientist said morosely, and then seemed to think for a while. Then he exclaimed loudly: "Why should I have been? It's a waste of time. What purpose would that serve?"

"I am sure you can find a suitable model where it does serve a purpose. Besides it would solve your problems," Nameless Andrew said. "You're attacking the problem incorrectly and so you fail."

"Do you really think so? Can it be that?" the scientist asked himself.

"It is like this," Nameless Andrew explained. "You walk into somewhere; stare at best without any expression at people, and then you attempt to communicate by silly dialogues. You have to use your eyes, and smile. Smiling is the key to success. If you see an elderly, fat and bald lady you can still smile at her, she will no doubt remember you for the rest of her life. It doesn't cost anything and you can achieve great things. You can make others happy."

"I wonder," the scientist said. He silenced for a second. "I don't think I can do it."

"Of course, you can," Nameless Andrew rejoined. "See," Nameless Andrew was all smiles, his eyes glittering. "Open your mouth like this and let your teeth shine. Tell yourself that they should be happy to have a man like you around." Nameless Andrew went silent.

"That's all?" the scientist asked.

"Absolutely. The rest should develop by itself. Let the action guide you. Don't force things."

"The advice you have given seems valuable, but rather vague on the application part."

"I can't possibly give you a fool-proof method; it all depends on the situation and atmosphere."

"Great," the scientist murmured.

They didn't say a word for a while. Then the scientist broke the silence. "What happened between you and the general? You haven't been to the city for a long time."

"It's over." Nameless Andrew contemplated if he should say anything else.

"She sure was a pretty creature," the scientist remarked.

"You were right about her. She was evil," Nameless Andrew said in sorrow.

"Really? I was beginning to like her. She was partly the reason the baron bent."

"No doubt. She also..." Nameless Andrew was wondering whether he should tell the scientist about the general. After all, it had been his private affair, which eventually turned into an embarrassing relationship. He wished he had never met the general, or for that matter the scientist. He had such a simple and cosy life before they popped up. The scientist might not have believed him, but laughed at him or perhaps unleashed his other lifeforms, which would have fried him alive. It might have even corroborated his earlier views of women and for all this, he, Nameless Andrew, would have been responsible. Now he, Nameless Andrew, was certainly tired of being a scapegoat.

"Also what?" the scientist asked.

"Wanted me to kill you."

The scientist looked at him suspiciously. "Is that so? And why may I ask?"

Nameless Andrew smiled for a second. The latter question was so much like the scientist. Always why, for what purpose, to what end etc. The piercing eyes of his employer, however, froze his countenance. "Why?"

"She leads the sect of love. You are, in her belief, the arch enemy, because you hate love and everyone who loves," he cited the general. "And now I am a traitor of course. She promised me she would kill me if I told you."

"Hmm," the scientist hummed. "We'll see who's going to be eliminated. Finally, I understand why the baron's position deteriorated so quickly. He's surrounded by villains. By his greatest enemies and an army of bootlickers. I pity him."

The scientist was once again a dangerous man, his whole body sparkling in anger. He stooped over a chair turning towards the wall. Nameless Andrew squatted in one corner. "I was right about her. I was blind, she even fooled me. But no problem." The scientist looked at him. "I will make sure she'll have no say in the future."

Nameless Andrew shrank back, he wanted to get out of the room and yet was curious of what the scientist was about to say. "I knew it. They are all like that. Women. You can never trust them. The little snakes. She wanted to murder me, did she?! Well, well, well. I'll just crush them," and with that said the scientist crushed a gadget. Then there was a period of silence.

"Not all women are like her," Nameless Andrew uttered.

"You better not say another word," the scientist told him. "And now get the hell out of here. You have no right to be in this room. It's my property. Move!"

Nameless Andrew wasted no time in doing so.

****

He didn't know what to think. The general's plea seemed believable and sincere, but he was cheated and deluded so many times by her earlier that he was confused. Should he respond? And if he should, how? The general had asked him to meet her on the outskirts of the city, and she had sounded very frightened. He wondered whether to inform the scientist of events unfolding, but then decided not to.

The scientist was occupied by assembling data of a planet he called the Green Planet, where he thought he had found evidence of lifeforms distinct from all his lifeforms. Besides, the scientist dived into scientific research after the sex room incident, and made great progress. It looked as if he once again closed himself off from the world surrounding him. He certainly hadn't followed Nameless Andrew's advice, and for all this Nameless Andrew felt responsible. It was strange, because the scientist hadn't the least blamed him in any way. It was true, however, that they barely met. Nameless Andrew still felt responsible for being frank and for telling the scientist things, which would have been better unsaid. Perhaps his employer had been right about certain questions that one should not try to answer; there was clearly a relapse or rather a vicious circle in the behaviour of the scientist. He definitely returned to his original views, there were no signs of emotion showing on him. He was listless, sombre and polite as usual. Nameless Andrew presumed there was fervour hidden inside the scientist that he feared might explosively burst into the open in a huge detonation at any moment. He thought of his employer as a tank being continuously filled with gas without any valve to let the excess out. And then eventually...

Nameless Andrew finally decided to meet the general at the given place at the given time, despite the possibility of stepping into an elaborate trap. He hoped this time his intuition was correct and the general was really in trouble. He didn't admit it even to himself, but he was counting on a revival of their relationship. He missed her, her endless lectures and her coquettish chitchat. But most of all he missed her body. He could forgive her if he could just hold her tight again. And of course, if she ceased as the leader of the sect of love.

Nameless Andrew went to the harbour of the island; it was a lagoon only the catamaran could cross without foundering. There were gates connecting it with the ocean, which could be opened if required. He seated himself in the ship and navigated to sea. Then he set the coordinates and leaned back hardly noticing the rhythmical buzzing of the engines. It took somewhat longer to reach his destination with the catamaran than by plane, but the scientist preferred it nevertheless, because he could travel without actually needing to let others know of his whereabouts. He could easily bypass the light coast guard ships surrounding the metropolis and thus the baron couldn't trace him. The harbour of the city provided many shady docks, where one could fish out a whole variety of things from the water excluding fish. Some of these wharfs were quite close to the skyscrapers of interest to the scientist, and made this transportation mode quite convenient.

However, Nameless Andrew headed in a different direction than usual; he passed under bridges painted reddish-brown by rust and deterioration. Grey warehouses mottled the way, most of them empty, with shattered windows. The outskirts were a no-man's-land, where the opportunistic and unscrupulous could make quick bucks. Nameless Andrew looked out of the ship and felt glad he was in the safety of bulletproof windshields. He always avoided these parts before; his strength was useless in the murky alleys.

There was a shabby railway station ahead, where he was supposed to meet the general. She was waiting for him dressed in a dark cloak, standing beside a lamppost, ostensibly an old woman. A ripped hood covered her head, her hands deep in her pockets. He thought this disguise could hardly fool anyone; her figure was straight and shapely. He left the catamaran some distance from the railway station, and before actually frightening the general by embracing her from behind, investigated the surroundings. She seemed to be alone; the station was quiet, only a homeless man was sleeping soundly on one of the benches, his hands grasping a bottle.

"Here I am," he said after the general recognised him. He smiled at her.

She shook her head in disbelief: "You just jump on me, and this is all you can say." She sighed and waved her hands.

Nameless Andrew mused what he should have said. "How about: I love you? Is that better?" he asked.

"Please," she said loftily, "I asked your help. So don't try to take advantage of the situation."

"I don't," he rejoined offended. "You made me come here in the middle of the night without telling me anything. And this is what I get? You're quite something." He turned away from her, towards the harbour.

She took hold of his sleeve. "I'm sorry," she said taking his right hand close to her breasts, he could feel the trembling of her heart. She knew how to reconcile him fast. "The train which we must get on will be here soon."

"Must?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "I think the baron's life is in danger. There are people who want to..."

"Kill Him," he finished the sentence. "I thought you were very much interested in getting rid of him as well. But not any more? Or is it rather me you want to get out of the way?"

"No, no," she said. "I like you."

"That's good."

"You have always been wrong about me. I'm not as bad as you think. I may have made some mistakes now and then, but I repent nothing."

Nameless Andrew laughed and punched the general on the shoulder slightly.

She exclaimed in pain: "You brute." She went inside the station resentful; he followed shortly thereafter.

"So who's trying to do the baron?" he asked her, but instead of answering, she looked at him in hate. "I can go if that's what you want," he said.

He started pacing outside until she called him, then changed his direction and sat down on a bench. She soon seated herself beside him. They sat in silence peering at everything around except each other. Nameless Andrew was in deep thoughts. He was wondering how to break the silence, but couldn't decide. And why should he always be the one who reached out to others, he asked himself. Why couldn't she for once say something like: "my dear, I know I acted rotten, please do forgive me", or perhaps not as high-flown, "the train will be here, so we better go". But no. She just sat beside him staring at the walls covered with the lamentable signs of oblivion, a schedule ages old yellowish from the fumes of close-by factories, which had been closed for some time themselves. Puddles gathered on the floor, where the ceiling was disintegrating, everything was wet. Nameless Andrew could sense fishy smells taken by a breeze from the harbour. Yet this place would have seemed to him as nice as any other would, if he could just lay his head in the general's lap. He felt tired. He wanted her to run her fingers through his hair, to pat his cheeks. But he feared if he told her what he longed for she would refuse him. Besides, he thought, she had cheated him. He didn't need a liar like her, he didn't need someone to take advantage of his weaknesses once he had opened up. On the other hand, it would have been nice to kiss her. Nameless Andrew was perplexed. Therefore, he made no breakthroughs; the differences between them were unbridgeable. He mused whether she felt the same way.

Then the train arrived. It was rainbow painted, somewhat resembling a subway train in its appearance, a transport medium preferred greatly by commuters from the villages and outskirts surrounding the city as to the packed highways. At such a late hour, it was empty however, only a conductor fiddling with pennies by a small desk inside. When they paid the fare, he was finally informed as to their destination. They were going to an area about an hour from the centre of the metropolis.

He leaned back on a seat opposite to the general and glanced at the foggy lights shooting through the darkness. He was completely detached from his surroundings, and hadn't the slightest desire to get involved in anything that night. The general, on the other hand, was restless, her eyes circled the wagon, and she was clearly overexcited. She changed her position, occupied her hands in all sorts of conformations, her beautiful countenance overshadowed by grimaces. He glimpsed at her now and then, and felt sorry for her, yet at the same time thought she deserved to be anxious. Not long ago she had wanted to murder the baron; she made many successful attacks, which undermined the powerbase of the baron. He could hardly believe her concern was sincere for the man she had wished to oust. She wept possibly for some other reason, he thought. Maybe... maybe, he continued pondering, she couldn't connect with the vice. Perhaps the baron was simply a punching bag now, on which the different possible predecessors tried their strength and endurance. In that case saving the baron from the others was a victory, just as killing him. This idea might have seemed to him absurd if he hadn't been introduced previously to the true character of the opponents. Egoism and intolerance reflected in everything they have done. The general was selfish beyond limits; she called him only when she needed something. And this time obviously she required him. And he had run like a little poodle once again hoping to be able to lick miss princess' toes.

He clicked his tongue not as much in despair as to break the monotone jolting sounds of the train. Yes, yes, he told himself. Nothing had changed. Nothing had changed since ancient times. The scientist had been right, it was time for change. It was time for software evolution.

"It's the next stop," the conductor suddenly said. "That's where you have to get off."

Nameless Andrew looked at the general. "So, do you have something to tell me? How long are you going to keep me blindfolded?"

The general contemplated for a short while, then whispered leaning close to him: "It's the vice. He wants to do it. But we got to thwart him."

"We?" he asked.

"Don't start again," the general answered angrily which almost made him laugh.

He wanted to start a quarrel, but they arrived before he could. He thought she deserved to be humiliated if only for once, to feel lonely and desperate. But instead of saying anything, he was on the heels of the general, and before he knew it they were seated in a taxi. The driver was a familiar face, the man whose hands he had crushed with joy. They moved with a frantic speed, the atmosphere tense. The roads were empty, there were no lights emanating from the houses, all decent citizens were at sleep.

The general was sweating, perspiration settling on her majestic nose. He thought about licking it off. It was no doubt an abhorrent notion regarding evolution, he imagined, but he just couldn't help wanting to do it. In fact, he wanted to lick her everywhere, smell and taste her, the woman he at the same time hated so much. He was interested in this duality; the conspiracy against the baron was irrelevant to him. What if he did it, he asked himself. What would happen if he bent towards the general and kissed her on the nose? Would she slap him? He thought it was worth a try to find out. He stooped over the general, slowly advanced, and then hit the seat in front of her.

They came to a complete halt, they arrived and so he was thrown forward. He felt there was a bump developing on his head. He was certainly more disappointed though about the fact that his experiment thereby couldn't even commence than his head aching.

By the time he gathered himself, the cabdriver and the general were nowhere to be seen. The car's doors were open on their sides; they must have been in a great hurry. He turned around a couple of times attempting to see where they could have gone, but no one was in sight, and everything was quiet except for a dog's barking. The hound's howling reminded him of the dogs of war. He thought he ought to find them before they would converge on the poor baron. Because who knew what might have happened if the baron were eliminated, he mused. Anarchy was a likely candidate to follow, and he thought the scientist would then have surely exploded, unleashing all his lifeforms in one final battle. The consequences being disastrous, he decided to save the baron's life if he could even though he wasn't fond of the man.

He departed the vehicle after closing the doors, and relying on his instincts, went in one direction. He cut through bushes and undergrowth in the twilight of a street lamp alongside the road advancing towards a house. As he distanced himself from the light source darkness fell on him, and when about to arrive at a clearance stumbled on something. It was a big bundle of some sort, he couldn't make it out, the lamp was too far and too weak. However the bundle moaned, and this gave him some idea as to its being. He investigated the tied person, and after some while concluded that it was the hideous character. He thought it was a nasty thing to do to anyone, that is, to tie him and then leave him in the foliage on a cool night like that. On the other hand, he felt he committed no crime if he left things as they were. After all, the hideous character would have been no doubt nothing but a hindrance on his mission. He patted the bundle on the shoulder encouragingly, and continued advancing on the house. He sensed he was at the right place, although all the houses in the street were similar. Nevertheless, this one was different, this one had a hideous character tied and hidden in its back garden. This must have meant something; he was almost proud of his own ingenuity and reasoning skill.

He peered through a window, but perceived only darkness. He had to get inside the house somehow. He tried to force the window open, but it was tightly closed, and he was unaware of its mechanism. It certainly seemed complex and thick, not a window one would expect to find on a middle class home, he ventured to think. He stole along the wall up to the front of the house. Just for the sake of completeness, he checked whether the door was locked. It was, so he crept further. On the other side, he found a basement window shattered. He wasn't surprised. The perpetrators had to get in somehow earlier. He had an eerie feeling as he squeezed himself into the house. He scented blood and felt nausea. He searched for a light switch, and in doing so once again stumbled on something. In this case, the something correctly described the three bodies lying in a great pool of blood he had tripped into.

After turning the lights on, he saw the baron, an elderly fat lady and the cabdriver dead on the floor. They all had multiple shot wounds to the head. He leaned on a desk and hadn't the faintest idea what to do next. He stared at the corpses. The baron lay in an awkward position, one of his arms beneath him, his wide-open eyes reflecting fear.

With a sudden thought, he went to the body and pulled the arm from underneath it. The baron's fingers were clutching something. It was small and darkened by blood. The baron's fingers were still responsive, they released the object. Nameless Andrew carefully examined it, and realized it must have been some sort of a weapon. He had been quite fond of guns in his youth, had known all the existing types, but this was entirely different. He wondered if this was the murder weapon or perhaps something the baron had grabbed hoping to protect himself in the last moments of his life. In any case the result was the same, the ruler of the day was no more.

Nameless Andrew put the suspected murder weapon on the desk and contemplated. The baron's death had far-reaching consequences. The compromise would be the first victim, he thought, and the scientist would be certain to retaliate immediately. He didn't know if that would be an all out offensive or a simple punitive action. He hoped the perfect machine wouldn't start rolling, demolishing everything on its way eventually leading to complete destruction. But after having observed the scientist's state of mind he could imagine all possible measures.

He watched the blood coagulate on the floor in thin sheets. Time passed in coagulating thin sheets of blood, the only changes taking place in the room; otherwise, everything was frozen and immobile. Nameless Andrew was tired, his consciousness somewhere between dream and reality. His eyes were heavy with sleep; everything seemed to him to be out of proportion and floating. The whole situation was somehow incomprehensible and unreal, the baron, the man feared, hated and envied by the world was dead, his unhealthy paunch slackly spreading, forming a circle around him. He was a lamentable sight without any majestic or awesome features. The remnants of the baron reminded him of a slaughtered household pig, one which quickly inflated to a prominent size, but lacking any essence.

Nameless Andrew wondered how the baron could acquire so much power in the first place with such qualities. He had certainly not been a genius or a great organizer as far as he could tell, and still... What was power about, he asked himself. Why wasn't it the scientist who held power over others? It was he who was the genius, was the perfect machine, had visions of the future and came up with solutions. Delivered results on time. The baron had never done that. And yet the baron had been the baron. Was the question of who held power a matter of probability? A chance event, he thought. Or was it some hidden quality, charm, or charisma he had overlooked? In any case, he and the scientist definitely hadn't possessed that something, they were outsiders, men who drifted to the periphery of society. And even though they mustered much more than the baron and his organization, they were simply unaccounted for.

Suddenly he heard sirens and then a jolting noise, the front door was torn down. He perceived the sounds of hurrying footsteps above him. Soon the general and some police officers descended the staircase leading to the basement. The general shrieked and looked at him questioningly seeing the corpses. The police officers quickly scouted the room.

"What happened?" the general asked from Nameless Andrew.

"They got killed," he said sarcastically.

"They were pretty much alive when I left them," she said angrily.

"Are you trying to say something?"

The general looked at him distrustfully.

"What?" he asked in amazement.

"How did you get in here?"

"Is this an inquisition?"

"Actually we would like to know that as well," one of the police officers said.

"Through the shattered window," Nameless Andrew answered. "I came in, found them dead. Haven't touched anything except that thing on the desk."

"That thing seems to be the murder weapon. It probably has your fingerprints all over it. I think you'd better find yourself an awfully good lawyer, my chap," the police officer said.

"Is this a set-up? Are you trying to frame me?" he asked the general. She didn't respond, so he continued, "so they were alive when you left them?"

"Yes," she said.

He was starting to lose his temper. This was the general he knew way too well, to whom he was simply a stranger. He was about to say something insulting, when the hideous character followed by other police officers came down to the basement.

"We found this man tied outside, and hidden in a bush."

"He's okay, a bodyguard," the general exclaimed.

So he was okay, but he, Nameless Andrew wasn't, Nameless Andrew thought sourly. Miss sect leader came through once again.

"I'm terribly sorry," the hideous character said. "I was knocked down from behind as I was investigating the garden. I must have lain unconscious for quite some time. And then... It's him, damn it," the hideous character pointed at him. "It must have been him."

Nameless Andrew realized it was about time he left the premises, before the lynching, that is. He pushed the police officers forming a ring around him in their respective directions, kicked the hideous character below the belly, and ran.

****

"You've got me into a very precarious situation," the scientist said. "I can't imagine how you managed to be such an idiot. You set a new record even for your standard. You walked right into the trap. You made yourself into the perfect scapegoat. Now tell me, what should I do? Extradite you?"

The scientist was understandably in a morose mood. Nameless Andrew felt as a child, rebuked and at the mercy of grownups.

"If I hand you over, you will at best rot in prison for the rest of your life for a crime you did not commit. This would be contrary to my moral beliefs. On the other hand, if I don't extradite you I provide the vice, who is on the verge of becoming the new baron with the perfect pretext to reject the compromise. He would do so anyway, but with the excuse, he doesn't run into the trouble of making up one himself. Which may have proved to be very difficult, perhaps impossible because other contesters to the throne could have used it against him. Thus to become the baron he would have had to bargain. But thanks to you he's now free to declare the compromise as dead. And where does that place me? All I have achieved goes down the drain. I wish... I wish I never employed you." The scientist clapped his hands together. "So now it's back to the drawing board. Start everything all over again..."

The scientist continued nagging, repeating the same things over and over again, accentuating his terrible plight. If Nameless Andrew were unaware of the perfect machine and other scientist created scientific Utopias perhaps, he would have felt ashamed or down-stricken. But he knew very much about the abilities and power the scientist possessed, the red button was as real as the sharks lurking in the lagoon where the artificial cliffs had been torn down. Nameless Andrew couldn't understand why he was pretending to be something else than he was, namely the perfect machine. And assuming the correctness of his statements, the perfect machine feared nothing, respected nothing and definitely didn't nag. Somehow, Nameless Andrew thought, the scientist couldn't entirely control his own creation, it got out of hand and came alive by itself. His employer pulled in one direction, the rest of the machine in another, in fact each lifeform in its respective direction. The result was a stalemate. Of course, it was tremendously difficult to govern so many views the perfect machine represented, Nameless Andrew thought. In order to implement anything each decision had to get a majority vote. No wonder the scientist kept repeating himself, the machine couldn't agree on whether to extradite him or not. Until the deadlock was resolved, he had to say something, even if it was unscientifically dull.

"What should I do?" the scientist asked for the tenth time.

Nameless Andrew smiled mischievously. He thought about saying something insulting, but then didn't. He was comfortably seated in a chair, had a nice view of the sand dunes of the island and the glimmering lagoon. Branches protruded above him shading him from the sun. He enjoyed things as they were, and had no intention to get involved in a prolonged argument with the scientist over an issue of no interest to him. The world was far, only the billowing sounds of the ocean could be heard and the chirping of the strange seabirds that flew against the wind.

As he sat there, sipping lemonade, he wondered about the reason the scientist wasn't satisfied with things as they were. It seemed he always wanted something unattainable; it seemed to be inherent in his character. It kept him going. But he was never happy. Listless was the best state of mind Nameless Andrew had seen him in, and the most frequent. This gave him a supernatural character, only occasionally disrupted by his mood swings. At least when raging he seemed almost normal, Nameless Andrew thought. The perfect machine was abnormal. This was the reason for the almost. Nameless Andrew had been furious at times as well, especially in his youth. But there had been no red buttons to be punched. No perfect machine behind him. The scientist was dangerous in hindsight of his capabilities, which he had never actually used. The power he held over others, power he had claimed to disregard. Of course, others were unaware of him and his resources, so he wasn't powerful in terms of the populist baron. Still he could shape the future. He could decide if there was to be any future.

Nameless Andrew let his fingers run through the dark green grass. It gave him a pleasant feeling; the smell of nature was emotionally tranquillising. What a difference compared to the cold realities of the perfect machine and the mathematical models, he thought. But then he suddenly discovered some flaw in his reasoning. The island he so much enjoyed relaxing on was itself artificial, something the scientist had created from sand and dust. He had done so with the help of uninteresting algorithms, yet the result was very different from the origins. Perhaps it was only the scientist who couldn't enjoy the benefits of his own achievements, but Nameless Andrew could. Maybe the perfect machine was also something interesting and sensual, not something distancing mankind from nature, but doing quite the opposite. Nameless Andrew felt eager to find out. Perchance he could perceive and experience things he never could before without excluding anything he was able to feel previously. Perhaps there were more alternatives. Nameless Andrew thought, being a man of instincts and impulsiveness that once alive the best thing one could do was to see and experience as much as one could, thereby getting the most out of it. But could he become a part of the machine? It seemed very doubtful considering his unfortunate role in recent events. The machine was displeased with him, this he could gather from the scientist's nagging, which didn't want to end.

****

They were approaching the ship steadily. It was a big luxury yacht anchored in international waters near shallows. It was here, on neutral ground the new baron and the scientist were to meet. It was here Nameless Andrew's fate was to be decided. He had been charged with mass murders, all the killed people of the metropolis of the past two decades whose cases had been unsolved now suddenly were given an assassin, to the joy of their relatives and satisfaction of the police department. Nameless Andrew proved to be the greatest and most brutal of murderers of all times. His crimes also included rape, dealing in illegal commodities like drugs and firearms, and not the least destruction of public peace and welfare. The latter seemed rather vaguely defined, but in any case even without it Nameless Andrew had more than enough to imprison him for longer than all the scientist's lifeforms could live combined. He was the perfect scapegoat once again. He was cursed, while the true assassin(s) could relax and enjoy the untold benefits of murder. Would the scientist trade him for a better deal, he asked himself. Or for any compromise for that matter?

The catamaran easily navigated by the side of the ship and attached to it. They ascended to the stern, where a big swimming pool was located with dozens of slack, wealthy citizens surrounding it. Among them were guards waiting for them. They were escorted into a conference hall and were met by familiar faces. The former vice, now baron was comfortably seated in an easy chair at least three times of the size of the two other chairs. To his left, the general ordered some notes; to his right, the businessman chatted with a waiter holding a glass full of whisky in one hand. The room was extravagant, famous and invaluable paintings decorating the walls, the carpet hand woven, the round table made of centuries old oak covered with ivory. The new baron obviously didn't constrain himself in any way, he lived life according to a baron. Nameless Andrew thought he was the squanderer heir who would quickly consume the wealth and credit of his post.

"Here we are," the scientist said.

The baron didn't care to answer, he simply looked at his watch.

"You are two minutes late," the general exclaimed in a sonorous and lofty manner.

"Hardly our fault," the scientist rejoined not wanting to discuss their delay any further.

"This is the precision you're so famous for?" the baron twisted his lip and flipped a coin, clearly trying his best to annoy and offend the scientist. "You beg me to meet you, and then you fail to show up in time."

The scientist was annoyed all right. He looked around, but it was obvious there were no chairs meant to be there for them. He leaned with two arms onto the table. "Let's leave the crap. We have a deal to negotiate."

The baron smiled mischievously. "Really? Now is that so?" He glanced at his two aids by his side, his eyes suggesting an "I'll show them who's the boss," attitude. Then he sighed, shook his head displeased and said: "As far as I can remember you're helping," he pointed at Nameless Andrew, "a dangerous criminal, who is believed to be responsible for the deaths of dozens of decent and innocent citizens. You are thereby committing a crime yourself. Of course, I am sure, if you hand him over to the authorities they will turn a blind eye to your cooperation with this individual." The baron's voice was getting more and more phlegmatic and aristocratic.

Nameless Andrew wondered how long the scientist would allow this to continue. He glanced at him and to his surprise saw him listless. Then he tried to get in eye contact with the general. It would have been better if he didn't, the hate and despise she felt for him made her shiver, one shockwave passed after the other in her body. He thought if she had a spoonful of water, she would have drowned him in it.

"All right," the scientist said. "What kinds of assurances can you give that he's going to get a fare trial if I extradite him?"

"Baah," the baron uttered. "My word of honour."

Nameless Andrew laughed, the scientist shook his head. "I'm afraid that's not good enough."

The baron suddenly seemed angered. "That's not good enough, is it? What am I then? A liar?" He stood up.

The scientist simply nodded. "You are a liar," he answered.

The baron stared at the scientist motionless and silent for a while. Then he again became a spoiled aristocrat, he leaned back to his chair and demonstratively looked away, ostensibly at an old vase worthy enough to pay for the boat they were rocking in.

After some time the baron asked slightingly: "So, what the fuck have you come here for then?"

"I came here to negotiate a possible extradition. Furthermore to discuss and ascertain the fulfilment of the compromise, which the deceased baron has started."

"The who?" the baron inquired. "What deceased baron are you talking about?"

"Don't give me that shit," the scientist said furiously.

"Excuse me," the baron rejoined. "Have you heard of any deceased baron?" he asked from the businessman and the general. Their answer was a clear indication of a new phase in the relationship of the two sides.

"No," they exclaimed.

"And there was no compromise either, was there?"

"Not that we know of," the baron said. "Not that we know of."

"Good day then," the scientist said, and they left, leaving a victorious smile on the new baron's countenance, whom the general made sure was not left without womanly love.

****

"They have cheated me. I knew it. That little worm. It was written all over him from the beginning. They simply denied that a compromise has ever existed. Just my luck," the scientist said. "I was hoping the baron, that is the murdered one, could hold out until the compromise has been put to work, which would have eliminated possibilities such as the one we encountered. But the vice killed him. There can be no doubt about that. It was in his interest to do so. The little spoiled brat."

They were walking along a hallway inside the underground complex. Nameless Andrew had no idea where they were going, but the scientist had insisted upon having his company. He was reluctant to follow his employer; he feared there was some unpleasant surprise awaiting him at the end of their journey.

"He will obviously," the scientist continued his monologue, "not negotiate anything. Of course, the death of our poor baron could have been averted were you good enough to tell me about developments. I have trusted you. And you have betrayed me. You, of all people."

"I didn't betray you," Nameless Andrew disagreed.

"There are many forms of betrayal," the scientist said.

"Depending on the model one uses."

"Don't try to get scientific with me," the scientist was losing his temper.

So was Nameless Andrew. "You cannot possibly blame me for what has happened. Use the machine. I can't see your problem."

"You are my problem. A problem I'm about to solve. You see, you're leaving me."

"Fine with me," Nameless Andrew said. "I was going anyway. I had enough of your bullshit."

"To the Green Planet. You're going to the Green Planet. For a long, long time."

They arrived in a big hall at the midst of which a spaceship could be seen. Nameless Andrew was puzzled for a moment. What was the purpose of travelling to the Green Planet? Then a sudden realization shook him, and he said agitated: "You can't make me go there."

The scientist smiled viciously.

"Can't I? Of course I can. You'll go. And that's that. Your punishment for not thinking before acting. It's still better than rotting in a prison or getting executed. This way I can also work in peace. Your influence had done me great harm, but now I shall be free of you."

Nameless Andrew looked at the scientist and mused. He was almost as big as him. Almost. Nameless Andrew was still stronger, and he thought it was time he returned the blow he received earlier. He certainly was determined not to bow to pressure and undertake the trip devised for him under any circumstances. It was a lunatic idea, only possible to have come from the scientist. He glanced at the spacecraft; it was a shiny piece of terror. When he turned back to the scientist, he noticed he wasn't alone. There were two ugly creatures standing beside him, twice as tall as him, and they were looking intensely at Nameless Andrew. He realized they must have been two other lifeforms he existed in.

"So what do you say now? I see you're speechless," the scientist said victoriously. Nameless Andrew attempted an escape. He ran to the entrance of the hall, but as he arrived there it suddenly sealed, no signs left that there had ever been a door there. He was trapped inside.

"Stop acting so ridiculously." The scientist laughed watching Nameless Andrew's actions with the greatest of amusement, especially since they ended in failure. He was powerful and mighty. "It's futile to resist, you should have realized it by now. You are going. Either by your own will or so," the scientist looked at himself, "by force. You decide."

Nameless Andrew stopped tracing the wall for a way out, he knew there wasn't any. The scientist had always been a thorough person, not leaving anything to chance. "I guess... I have no other choice. But before I would embark upon this crazy mission, my exile, tell me what you will do about the baron." Nameless Andrew hoped in the occurrence of some miracle, or at least in delaying his imminent departure.

The scientist shook his shoulders. "I'll think of something. But I doubt that concerns you. You will be a safe distance away. And when there, do send me a postcard." The scientist giggled sarcastically. "Don't get any strange ideas into your head," he was reading his thoughts once again, "you have but one alternative now. It won't be too bad, you will have almost an eternity to think. You will be forced to think. And you must agree, that's something very positive. Besides, you can see a world entirely different from ours. You will see something even I haven't."

Nameless Andrew bowed in gratitude for getting such an opportunity. Then he charged. But he couldn't reach the scientist, the two ugly creatures were quicker than he had believed, and they embraced him. He was in a living vice and all his struggling to break out was in vain.

The scientist shook his head. "Why fight?"

"Why not?" Nameless Andrew asked. "At least I fight. You... you just lie down and let everyone tread on you. And when that naturally annoys you, you take out your anger on me. Why don't you simply punch that damn button? Then at least for once you will feel something, the excitement of revenge. That's the closest you'll ever come to sexual excitement anyway."

The scientist was angered; Nameless Andrew was deliberately hitting him on his weakest spot.

"Your great visions! What good did they do you?" Nameless Andrew continued. "All these great visions are responsible for the building of greater and greater skyscrapers, covering everything with concrete. I'm sick of your visions, and so are you. They brought you nothing but misery. So go, and punch the red button. Get it over with. This world deserves it. Evolution, remember?! A society unable to distinguish between quality and inferiority must not survive."

"Enough," the scientist shouted, his eyes reddened.

Nameless Andrew kicked into the air as he was dragged to the spaceship by the machine, where they forced him inside. He didn't have a chance against them. Then the doors closed, and his trip commenced.

Chapter 3: In deserted nowhere

Nameless Andrew peered out of the spacecraft; he could still see the island in the distance. He was surprisingly calm, having disbelief in his own destiny and destination. That he was heading to some remote corner of the Universe seemed fascinatingly odd, the events were unfolding too swiftly for him to fully comprehend his awkward situation. The spaceship started to ascend steeply and picked up speed; he was squeezed to his chair and could hardly breathe. The island disappeared from his view, and moments later, he was around orbit in space. Here the acceleration ceased for a while, at least that was what he thought and felt. He couldn't actually be sure, because there was no instrument panel or anything in his compartment, solely the chair he sat in and a space barely enough for him to stretch out his limbs.

At present, the continents and wonders of the Earth he was circling occupied him. He had dreamed about being up there, he had a romantic lust for the stars shining in the night sky implanted in him by his childhood movies and comics. Fantasies of discovering strange and sometimes dangerous things and creatures populating emptiness. He remembered what the scientist had thought romanticism meant and of its results once discovered to be wrong. He hoped he could survive a trip that had an unknown duration, keeping his sanity, although he realized he was in no way prepared. But he thought as long as he stayed in orbit there was still a possibility the scientist would change his mind and change his course.

Continents passed beneath him, night and day altered. He kept track of time by observing the change of daytime on the continents. It was astonishing for him to learn that the short time he had already spent in orbit according to indications from the planet's surface felt as an eternity. It was frightening, discomforting and demoralizing. What would happen out in deep space, he asked himself. The silence was deafening. But the silence around him was also exciting in as much as exasperating. He was experiencing something new, something he hadn't seen or sensed before. Not feeling anything was interesting in itself, he certainly couldn't feel the weight of his body or smell anything. He could only see, and vision gave him an observer status where seemingly there was nothing to observe. From his orbit, a great distance away from the surface none of life's daily changes were apparent, only the frozen crust of the planet, which transformed little over the ages. He was looking at a repetitive motion picture in slow motion, getting a bare moment's insight into the planet's existence. At the same time, he thought of the contrast between the planet's existence and his, his was short and uncertain while the planet's was a repetitive slow motion picture never changing. Of course, it was all a matter of perspectives, he thought, his lifespan was too short to observe alterations taking place on the planet.

He knocked on the chair with his fingers to break the silence, but the sound made was strange and disturbing. He tried to hum a melody and heard the same noise; he whistled and observed the same monotonous beating. Whatever he did, the result was exactly the same sound. He thought the scientist had been very careful and meticulous in devising his punishment. He abandoned his attempts at stimulating his ears; silence was a better alternative than the monotonous beating.

He once again peered at the planet searching for the approximate location of the island. It was too small to be seen out in the open sea, but it was down there somewhere. He wondered what the scientist was up to now that the compromise clearly was shattered. Was there to be a war or another pullback, victory or another defeat? The scientist was capable of both, his only real enemy being himself. Himselves, Nameless Andrew corrected himself.

****

He awoke after dozing for a while, losing completely track of time. He was still in orbit though, moving with the same velocity and at the same height as far as he could tell. The permanence was permanent, nothing had changed since he fell asleep, the slow motion picture continued rolling, showing the same pictures repeatedly. Nameless Andrew yawned, he wished he were able to drowse through his whole exile, turn himself off at will. But this wasn't so, he very much stayed conscious. He needed something to occupy his mind with, something to divert his attention from the maddening repetition down below. He closed his eyes and searched for a thread of thought capable of supplying him with material for a long time to come. The finding of such proved to be like striking a needle in a haystack. But he had no other choice, he had to keep trying. Of course, the haystack contained many hays resembling the needle searched for; they were sharp and unwise to touch. He thought of the general, the luscious nymph of his dreams, but then suddenly instead saw the sect leader covered with blood and so had to abandon any threads involving her. In fact, any events or persons he had met or encountered since having been employed by the scientist led to a dead end. They were unusable, because although they occupied him they also reminded him eventually of his situation and consequently made him angered and desperate. He had to avoid mood swings; he was entirely on his own now. Although he had always felt lonely and could only rely on himself in the past, it had been different from the present solitude. Before he had had hope and belief that in case anything had happened to him someone would lend him a helping hand, but now there wasn't even a someone who wouldn't have lent him a helping hand anyway. Space was a grasp away, space containing nothing. He had to think of something exhilarating, amusing and soothing. It was best to start as early as possible.

In the meantime, he glimpsed at the island, where he believed it was supposed to be, and to his surprise saw, indeed, a dark blot. The blot hadn't been there before nor was it staying in place. It was spreading and as it did so its transparency increased. At the same time, the spacecraft accelerated again, nailing him to his chair. Nameless Andrew realized the island had been destroyed as he was hurled into deep space. He wondered what that could have meant, while the planet receded and finally disappeared completely.

****

It was the tenth inhabited planet he had reconquered from the evil empire. It was small and damp, it perpetually rained on land, and he thought it was an impossibility to survive in such a climate. But people thrived here as well, in fact they were taller, stronger and more patient than elsewhere. They mostly lived off the sea; the lands were barren, the water quickly eroding the soil the natives tried to till. He was treated here as a hero, he had got a hero's welcome and everything that came with it. After all, he was the liberator, planting the seeds of democracy everywhere he went.

He led but a tiny army, yet the empire crumbled wherever his forces struck. The adversary had more troops and equipment, and was better coordinated. But what made the difference on the battlegrounds was the zeal and innovation of his rebel army. They wanted to win at any price, because they believed any price was better than living under the cruel oppression of the empire. The local populations were also behind them, supporting them with bases where they could relax in-between skirmishes, and even with manpower. But most importantly there was great moral support for their cause. They were blown with confidence, and so the battles tilted in their favour, despite all their discrepancies. Starting out only as a few fugitives and renegades and as nothing more than an annoyance in a small sector they evolved as the greatest challenge the empire had to face since its existence. So far, they were yet to lose a single scuffle.

Therefore, they had arrived at the tenth planet in mirth, and boasted among themselves full-heartedly. He himself was assured, convinced of his success and about his aims. He knew it was enough to make a chink and the whole empire would crack open as a shell, falling to pieces. His major objective was to show that the empire was vulnerable and beatable. Once this was done all regions would rebel, he thought, and the burden of waging war would lessen on them, in the end leading to victory.

He was in such an optimistic mood when landing on the newly freed planet. He was met by rain and a small delegation there. He stepped out of his warplane unwittingly, and was struck by lightning at once, which had always evaded him before. Among those meeting him, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. They looked at each other, and he saw a mirror image of himself in her eyes...

He was in deep space seemingly motionless, but in reality, the rocket was advancing at its top speed. Eternity surrounded the spacecraft, an eternity that had made him create his little world, a romantic dream world, where he was someone. Out in deep space he was no one, nothing but a speckle of mass hurtling through darkness.

****

He felt something, a weight pulling him forward, the belt tightening around him. He opened his eyes, for the first time since he had started dwelling on his long searched topic. He was annoyed that in doing so the dream was gone, the very instant victory was in his grasp, and a feeling of mighty comfort disappeared. Instead, a greenish sparkling planet glowed at him, awesome in the distance, a clear indication of his oncoming arrival at his destination.

The spacecraft was decelerating furiously, vibrating in force quickly demolishing the remnants of his confidence incited in him by his own dream. Was this the first sign of collapse of the romantic model he had indulged in? He was afraid, frightened of having to face an unknown world alone, fearful of vanishing without a trace. He wondered if there was anyone who had noticed his disappearance at home, and sorrowfully thought of the possibility that no one had had. He wished his escapade was over, if as abruptly as an exploding fireball blows to pieces. His muscles cramped in anticipation, he felt his tongue was way ahead of him floating and dragging him along. But something kept him in place, and eventually the queer sensation abandoned him leaving only a bitter taste in his mouth.

The Green Planet was below him, all shades of that colour emerging in front of him. The spaceship completed its deceleration sequence; it was now circling the planet, which seemed as a monotonous series of mountain ridges and valleys from his outpost. It was utter boredom to him, very much unlike the romantic Universe of his dreams. Here nothing happened, the stillness was absolute and undisturbed, there were no skirmishes nor spectacular battles with glittering horror, only silence. The silence of eternity. He was a part of it, his body obviously not ageing during the trip. He wanted it to end; this wasn't what he had bargained for. But there was no way out, the spacecraft sealed him inside. Besides, outside was no different. The only difference was within him.

He closed his eyes for a second only to open them with a sudden realization. The only difference had always been within him. He thought it was strange he noticed it only now. This voyage had, indeed, taken him to far and previously unknown territory, a terrain reflecting upon his earlier life, when he had no time nor desire to reflect upon it himself. On the other hand, everything had its price, by seeing something differently he had ultimately lost another life philosophy. Something gained, something lost. He thought his innocence had evaporated at childhood's end, now the remnants of his hot-headed fervour were close to extinction.

Now that he gave it more consideration, it seemed to him absurd to have and apply more than one life philosophy at one given time. Yet, the machine with its many different lifeforms must have had many life philosophies, perhaps the reason for the obvious conflicts and disagreements it had encountered within its own ranks, he thought. After all, it not only defined one's outlook on the world, but also the rules and conduct by which someone lived, and adhered to. The machine had been paralyzed when the rules were in conflict, which had clearly been the case. It had taken time to sort out the differences, and he believed this to be the machine's major drawback. Of course, it had been strong and unstoppable once the decisions had been made.

With one sudden and tremendous jolt the rocket entered the atmosphere. At least there was one, he thought as the spacecraft landed on a platform, probably of natural making, and then came to a halt in front of a ridge. It was a nasty landing, for a moment it had seemed he would collide with the sharp edged green rocks ahead; a scare that he thought was utterly ridiculous afterwards, because it would have been a solution. That is what he wanted. A solution to his life. A palpable one. And floating around aimlessly he did not consider as a solution.

****

The rocket simply ejected him. He was paralyzed in a force field while the spaceship gaped its front as if it was a horrible animal with an aching stomach. He watched the events listlessly; he didn't wish to go outside nor to stay inside. Yet he wasn't annoyed any more for not being able to make decisions himself. He was assured he could re-enter his dream world at any given moment, and leave the greenness behind.

The force field moved him outside, and then the spacecraft closed, he was standing below a protruding ridge and gazed around. He was uncertain whether the planet's atmosphere could bear terrestrial life, the strange state he had experienced in the rocket continued, his only sense at his disposal was vision. He wondered if the force field was still around him. He thought it had been brilliantly devised if that was the case, because he was able to touch and feel the silkiness of the rocks in his vicinity. They were queerly soft, almost as silk, yet very heavy.

What was he supposed to do here, he asked himself. Should he wander off or simply squat on a rock until he would be taken back to where he had come from? If he wasn't doomed for the rest of his life to live on the Green Planet.

Finally, he decided to explore his surroundings rather than to wait there. He climbed the ridge, which was full of cavities probably made by meteorite debris, making the scramble childishly easy, while the silky touch gave a comforting feeling. From the top of the rock, he could see far away into the distance. The sight emerging before him was soothing; there was mesmerizing magic in the motionless silence surrounding the green mountains and valleys reflecting the rays of the setting sun of that solar system. There seemed to be an uncountable number of hues of green with some greyness and redness here and there. Despite all his dislike of his situation, he had to admit, it was the most beautiful sunset he had ever seen. Somehow, the dead surroundings came to life; there was a sense of vibration.

He looked around, and was overwhelmed by a feeling of comfort and ease. This was a fairy tail land, where the nooks and caves hid little and cunning creatures awaiting the arrival of darkness, when they could do nasty things. But among them were also good and wise ones, kind to a lost traveller. The glimmering plateaus reminded him of thick forests, the sun's rays sparkling greenly here and there seemed like trees. In these forests lived the fairies and witches, the former in clearings, the latter in the thickest regions. They were continuously fighting each other. In the lowlands, five giants crouched around a fire, their bulky figures reminding him of someone, their number reminiscent of the past.

But here all was but a mere illusion, for as the sun disappeared below the horizon the giants turned out to be mountains doomed to solitude, and the fire simply a reflection of light. As darkness fell, tranquillity seized the land once again, holding it firmly, motionless. The fairies, witches and forests were gone as swiftly as the giants were, except that there was nothing left behind them, no signs they had ever existed. Soon the stars lit the sky, and he began to wonder what to do next. For some time he sat on top of the ridge. It was difficult to adjust back to freedom after the coerced and regulated trip; he found it hard to believe he could walk around at his own will. The spacecraft was located beneath him, its contours visible, but only to someone who knew it was there. After a while, Nameless Andrew decided to go to sleep, and stretched out on the silky rock.

****

He realized something was wrong at the moment he awoke. He lay askew; the ground slanting although when he had gone to sleep it had been level terrain. He looked around. The spaceship was far from him, shining in the sunlight. The terrain further away seemed the same, yet he had a suspicious feeling about it. It was as though everything changed place, moved apart. Two of the mountains he had imagined as giants were further from the other three than before. This once again reminded him of the past, although he knew it was nothing more than coincidence.

He stood up and considered the situation in its entirety. Of all the possible reasons for the change, a plasma explanation seemed to him most likely. According to this, the Green Planet was covered or was made of a plasma-like substance floating around all the time, though slowly enough that he hadn't noticed the movement at once. The change was only visible if he wasn't there to observe it, that is if he slept or simply wasn't present.

How long he had been at rest was questionable, but he thought it must have been an extended period, in spite of being fully aware of the especially relative nature of time in his world, which was pretty much determined by emotions. It was uncertain how long night or day lasted, he had no way of comparing it with terrestrial conditions.

He slid down from the ridge on a natural slipway to the level of the spacecraft. The ridge looked more like a hill now from below; it had lost its sharp and steep edges. He walked back to the rocket, and not being able to enter it, squatted down beside it.

****

Nights and days passed by, and by the number of alterations he counted years would have ebbed away on the Earth. He was resigned, and other than going twice on longer excursions to find nothing of interest, he sat mostly besides the spacecraft, leaning against it. He remembered this had been the way he had liked to position himself on the island as well, under a nice shady tree. He often called back those happy days, and all he wanted now was to crawl under a shady tree and listen to the chirping birds, smell the scent of grass. In those happy days though he had never considered sitting under a tree as too exciting or exhilarating. He realized only now how much he had liked that, and so started missing it. In his yearning, he had almost slipped into deep depression, but once again, imagination had proved to be his salvation. He had created the world of fairies and witches, endless forests and immense grassy plains, where all forms of life could be found. In such a way, he placed himself among fictitious characters, and most importantly mentally left the Green Planet's boring green reality. He enjoyed grazing his eyes on his new world, where the silvery spaceship transformed into a large iron castle. The sky was covered with fleecy clouds and bird flocks occupied it. Sometimes it even rained, the water pouring down as during a summer storm.

This was another romantic model. A romantic model helping him survive the absolute emotional emptiness of his surroundings. It had its own well-definable rules and consequently limitations. But as long as he stayed within this frame the birds kept flying and singing, the grass remained green, and the good fairies prevailed over the bad. He hoped his world would not collapse due to an inconsistency in the rules it had been defined by.

****

And finally, the time came. He was sitting by the side of the rocket when the monster gaped and the force field sucked him inside. All happened unexpectedly and without any prior incident, which could have indicated a prelude to the end of his stay on the Green Planet. The events crushed his idyllic fairy tale world, and he suddenly found himself inside a depressing and rigid box excluding all instruments once again.

Now he could but barely see the contours of the Green Planet in the far distance. It was slowly disappearing, uniting with blackness. He was surrounded by blackness once again, only here and there variegated by shining spots. He thought it was time he was going home. But was he? This question barely entered his head and that for two reasons. The scientist had mentioned only the Green Planet as his final destination, where he would spend a long time. There had been no word of him going anywhere else nor of floating aimlessly around or between the Earth and the Green Planet. But if this latter was the case it was better not to consider the question at all, it would simply have driven him crazy. So, for the time being, he assumed the spacecraft was taking the shortest path home. But where was his home? This was another bothering question. Had been the island his home before? He had never thought of it as such earlier. Anyway, there was no island any more, he gathered. Did Earth exist at all, or did it vanish in a colossal war? Was there anything to return to? And if there wasn't what would become of him? And if there was, what happened during the time he had been away? How would he adjust to the new conditions?

As questions like this bombarded him a curtain started rolling down in his brain. This was a shield protecting him from dangerous thoughts, just as a curtain shields from light. He was on one side of this shield; the questions and darkness were on the other. When the curtain rolled down completely nothing slipped through from the other side, the separation was absolute. He anchored the shield so no hurricane could cut a hole in it.

On his side of the curtain, things were colourful, exhilarating and fast paced. The victor over the evil empire founded a new and democratic interplanetary union...

****

He was full of anxiety. This was the moment of revelation. The rocket was commencing a landing on Earth. Perhaps it was the beginning of the end. He peered out of the window, saw the continents partly covered by clouds and discovered no change in their appearance. In any case, this was reassuring. The horizon turned blue, a richness of colours emerged unprecedented in deep space. It was nice to be home, he thought, and basked in the sun as the spaceship descended further over the ocean. He was excited and felt his heart pumping in his neck. He could hardly wait for the touchdown. His banishment seemed over. He was to be free again.

The spacecraft cast a shadow over the water; ahead land could be seen. He counted the seconds as much as he remembered how much a second had lasted. A couple of moments later he discovered trees blossoming.

The spacecraft landed smoothly in a marshy field surrounded by forest.

Chapter 4: The beggar

He stood on top of the craft that was immersed halfway in mud. A branch stooped over his head, the shuttle came to a halt at the edge of the swamp. The choice of landing field must have been deliberate on the part of the scientist, and the best possible alternative in case anything had happened to the island, because the rocket was slowly devoured by the moor. Soon there would have been nothing left as reminder of his voyage, but his memories. And already now these recollections seemed absurd, and as fresh morning air filled his lungs the world of the Green Planet became a ludicrous dream disparate from reality. He stayed on top of the craft as long as was possible, but then had to abandon his long prison cell, because the branch was getting out of his reach. He pulled himself to safety, and watched the spaceship vanish in the marsh with mixed emotions. A period of his life ended there. He could start all over, that was good, he thought; on the other hand, the future was more uncertain than ever before. He still had no idea what he would find here, perhaps only wilderness. Nevertheless, he was happy and relieved; this was his world after all.

He climbed down from the tree and stepped onto a weed and water covered ground to be immersed in it immediately. But luckily the moor was shallow here, the mud only reached to his ankles, and as he advanced deeper into the forest the swamp gave way to solid ground. He cleaned his shoes with leaves, and then judging by the sun headed off in one direction. For a while, the forest was getting more dense, and for this reason, he expected to be met by a bear or a similar creature any time. However, this did not happen, because to his surprise suddenly a road cut the forest in two clearly marking the end of the wilderness. On the other side of the road farms were located, and now and then trucks passed by. It was a familiar scene of his days indicating little had changed since his departure. This obviously meant the scientist had not succeeded with his reforms; his ideas were not implanted in society.

A dog barked nearby, and cows grazed a grassy field, their tails lashing around. He mused what to do. He was free to go anywhere, but there was nowhere for him to go. It was a freedom he couldn't harness. As he wondered profoundly he wasn't able to hear a truck honking at him. The lorry attempted to stop in time, but couldn't. He was surprised when he felt the collision, and in mid-air thought that at least now he didn't need to answer his bothering questions.

****

He awoke in hospital. His head ached, but strangely, that was all. He was in one piece, had broken nothing. A nurse stood beside him.

"Can you understand me?" the nurse asked.

Surprisingly, he could. He looked around, and realized he was in a small, but cosy room, in as much as hospital rooms could be hospitable. On inspecting his body parts covered by a blanket, he noticed he had his own clothes on. Now the reason for his survival seemed clear. His special outfit saved him from the devastating effects of the impact he had made with the truck and then the asphalt where he landed. The scientist's science had worked once again, withstanding the degradation of time.

"Can you understand me?" the nurse repeated.

He realized he had forgotten to answer before; he had been too involved with putting his situation in perspective. "Yes, of course," he said, and thought his voice sounded different. It was a long time ago he had heard his own voice, or for that matter anyone else's. Sounds existed only in his imagination. Strangely enough, he hadn't consciously perceived the noises of the forest or for that matter anything else prior to having been run over. Perhaps these were too versatile in comparison to the ones he could hear in the controlled environment of the hospital. Or maybe he had still been in another plane of existence, he thought. Whatever the reason, he now perceived everything he had had not for... For how long, he asked himself.

"How long have I been unconscious?" he inquired.

"Only for a short while," the nurse said. "The truckdriver will no doubt be relieved to hear you're all right. He was completely traumatized, he thought you were dead. He told me you were thrown into the air as a sheet of crumpled up paper. But considering your condition I believe he greatly exaggerated. Except for your clothing, which we couldn't unwrap you of, you seem quite fine. Is it some novelty?"

"What date is it today?" he asked not wanting to answer the nurse's question.

The nurse looked at him suspiciously. He gathered the nurse thought something had happened to him after all involving his head. The nurse pointed to a calendar standing on a table next to his bed. It was all there. Now he knew for how long he had been away.

"As you can see it's still today," the nurse said sharply.

With a sudden thought Nameless Andrew said: "I can't remember anything."

The nurse looked distressed and told him: "In that case I must inform your doctor at once."

With this said the nurse left him. He thought pretending memory loss was the best possible solution to his problems. He knew if he had exclaimed the truth, which he himself found hard to believe, he would probably have been forced into some kind of mental institution. Besides, it was unclear whether he remained a wanted man, and he couldn't know about the plight of the scientist. It was better not to associate himself with the scientist just yet. And for that matter, he thought bitterly, it was better to forget the person who had banished him. It was better to forget everything, altogether.

The doctor entered his room, and soon found out Nameless Andrew couldn't remember his name, his year of birth, where he was from, that is, anything. The doctor and the nurse stood by his bed at a complete loss what to do. Namely, they had found no identification or documentation on him.

"You're Nameless then," the doctor said with some irony in his voice. "The Nameless man from outer space. Judging from your clothes you may just be a pilot or something like it. Or had been... We'll simply call you Andrew."

"I try to remember," Nameless Andrew remarked, and laughed within, "but there is nothing in my past I can recollect. Sorry." After a pause, he asked: "What will happen to me?"

"We'll wait to see if there is anyone who comes for you. I'll make the necessary steps to find your relatives, family, whatever."

"Thank you," he said.

"Now rest," the doctor patted him on the shoulder. "Everything will be all right."

Yes, he thought, everything would turn out fine if it had been as easy as convincing them of amnesia.

****

The days passed by one after the other. And no one came for him. Stunning, he thought sarcastically and couldn't resist a smile. In the meantime, he was informed about events he had not been there to witness. He was transferred to a rehabilitation ward, and as relaxation in-between catching up with recent events, he played games of logic with elderly gentlemen.

But then one day, out of nowhere, he was there unexpectedly. He looked almost as he had seen him the last time, strong and good looking. But instead of the white cloak he wore an elegant suit. He had been the scientist once. What he was now, Nameless Andrew did not know. The way he emerged, he got a first impression of a man with considerable wealth and power. Only the silvery tint was missing from his eyes.

He stopped by his bed and stooped over him. It was early morning, and he got used to going to bed late, and thus was not yet awake. He could hardly open his eyes when the scientist woke him with a slap on the upper body. Through a mist he saw an ancient figure who had existed in his nightmares, and now came back to haunt him. He wanted the vision to disappear, and so shoved with his hands. The image retreated a step, and instead of retaliating smiled at him. Nameless Andrew told himself this was nothing but a dream, which would end anyway once he awoke. He turned on his side. Then as if lightening struck him he sat up. This time he completely mastered his senses. His eyes met immediately with the scientist's, who looked at him filled with paternal care. This almost angered Nameless Andrew. It reminded him of everything he wished forgotten.

"Good day, old chap. Long time since our last meeting, no?" the scientist asked and flipped his nose. Nameless Andrew was stupefied. A bare moment's glimpse made him conclude the tremendous changes that must have taken place while he had been away. The scientist, except for having struck him once, had never been too fond of physical contact with others. Perhaps partly because he had been timid. Shy was the last thing he was now. Nameless Andrew even doubted the correct identity of the scientist for a second. He was different altogether.

"No greetings? No emotions, no hate, no love, no nothing?! You surprise me," the scientist said. "Before you acted prior to thinking. What happened to your vigour, man?"

"Maybe it was left at a far away place, where a moment seemed an eternity and vice versa."

The scientist frowned. "You have changed drastically."

"Speak for yourself," Nameless Andrew replied listlessly.

"Let's not argue," the scientist said. "Quarrels tumble empires, you know."

"You don't say?!" he was annoyed now.

"What on earth got into you? I came to take you home. How can you be so angry at me?"

"Home? Where is that? The island?"

"My God, no. I have a villa on the coast. Of course, I also own a couple of apartments downtown, and other buildings."

"And I assume you're married."

"Yes, I am. Happily married. Got two kids."

While the scientist was rummaging in his pocket searching for a picture of his family, Nameless Andrew shivered due to a sudden suspicion.

"She's the general, isn't she?" he asked.

"Well, that was her nickname, yes."

Nameless Andrew felt nausea. This was too much for him to swallow in such a short period. He thought he should have been happy that not the original scientist welcomed him, but his sixth sense suggested differently. The scientist had been the scientist, because of all of his shortcomings, queer ideas and weirdness. This man was normal, giving an impression of a careerist with considerable success, and as such uninteresting in evolutionary terms. He was satisfied, Nameless Andrew could see that the way he searched for the picture, and therefore had little zeal and ambition. But above all this, he had married the general! The very woman he had loathed for what she always represented: a calculating and selfish turn-coat. Nameless Andrew couldn't understand the motivation behind the scientist marrying her, and surrendering his ideas and dreams. The former event had obviously been a causative for the latter. There was no doubt about that, Nameless Andrew thought.

"In that case there is no way I will join you."

"In what case?" the scientist asked when he finally found the picture he had been looking for.

Nameless Andrew hummed. "The general," he uttered. "I don't want to see her again."

The scientist was baffled. "I thought you liked her."

"Once perhaps." Nameless Andrew was silent for a moment. "How could you?" he shouted. "Marry your worst enemy? Not fighting it out to the last?!"

"Quiet," the scientist attempted to soothe him. "Think of the other patients."

"That was the problem. You thought when one mustn't. You started a war, and then backed down, didn't you? The greatest mistake was that you were always so damned considerate. Tell me, what happened. I saw the island blown to dust."

"It wasn't as simple a decision as you imagine. Yes, I lost that battle. I had to retreat, I had no other choice." The scientist stared out of the window, a couple of early sunrays sparkling on his countenance. He seemed unresolved momentarily, or perhaps distracted by the blue sky and the singing birds. But then he continued. "The machine... it got out of hand. I couldn't control it. In the beginning when I existed in only a few lifeforms it was easy to rule and assert my influence over my other myselves. But at a certain point in its expansion it started living on its own. I, its creator, became only a little part, a speckle. My word was one in many, my vote counted as much as any other lifeform's within the machine. Of course, I have installed a protective mechanism, just in case. This could terminate the machine."

Nameless Andrew nodded ascertaining that he was listening.

"After you left things went from bad to worse. The baron was getting more and more arrogant and careless. He wanted everything too fast. Power, respect, money and women. He believed he could gain respect by defeating me, and also enhance his control over society. The events developed very quickly. The baron elaborated a brilliant plan how to justify using military force against me. It was perfect, except it cost his life in the end. He arranged for the island to be named a wildlife preservation area, and thereby a property of all humanity. He based his case on the strange seabirds capable of flying against the wind you wanted to hunt; they were indigenous only to the island. The island I have created! The creatures I have brought back to life! Succeeding in doing so, I legally lost possession of the island. He could forcibly remove me. But it wasn't so simple. He had to work undercover, hidden behind an ostensible wildlife preserve organization he himself had created. This organization had no military capability on its own, therefore a next phase in the scheme commenced. I was stigmatized as a drug-trafficker. This was a more adequate frame to explain the huge military build-up around the island. Now I was not only a trespasser, but a real live criminal the international community had to deal with. I didn't know what to do. Then one morning troops landed on the island. They needed space for their vehicles there to remove me, cut the trees, and so they chased away the seabirds from their nests. It was all decided then. When the first tree fell, the baron also dropped dead, the machine unleashed itself. Soon the whole of the international force was swept away, and the major cities were the next target on the continent. By that time, I had no influence on the machine. I had to stop it. I knew it would burn everything to dust and even beyond. This wasn't what I had bargained for. I had to set the protective mechanism to work. Unfortunately, the island was destroyed along with the machine."

"So it was you who have blown the island to pieces?" asked Nameless Andrew in amazement.

"Yes," the scientist answered sadly.

"And what happened to the seabirds capable of flying against the wind?"

"I guess they were killed as well." The scientist sat morosely beside him for a while, but then his face started to lighten. "But I have made good."

"Have you?" Nameless Andrew wasn't so sure. For the seabirds were dead, and there was nothing challenging the wind any more.

****

They got into the limousine. Nameless Andrew had decided after some contemplation to join the scientist if for no other reason than curiosity. The seats were extremely comfortable, and the scientist remarked with pride: "Isn't this something?" Nameless Andrew didn't answer, but peered out of the open window, and took deep breaths. They were still far from densely populated areas, and Nameless Andrew enjoyed the mild wind brushing his face.

The limousine rolled out of the hospital's grounds, and soon they were cruising on a highway. The scientist closed the windows and then fiddled with various devices to enhance his comfort. He even lit a cigar. Nameless Andrew coughed, and looked demandingly at the scientist. "Sorry," the latter said and turned on a special ventilator sucking the smoke away from Nameless Andrew. "A great little invention," the scientist said. "I bet you'll like it so much at our place you won't want to leave."

"I wouldn't want to bet on that," rejoined Nameless Andrew. "But I'm interested to learn about the way you've developed."

The scientist laughed holding the cigar aristocratically. "You sound like some crazy avenging angel who pops up and makes one dive into his past. But I have no reason or interest to pursue a path of disaster, when I know of one of great success." The scientist went silent for a while, then continued accompanied by some snobbish mimicry. "Remember that shabby little airplane we used to make the trip between the island and the continent? It was inferiority itself. Now look at this car. This is what I call a car. This is quality. All the things I couldn't afford I can now have. Isn't it marvellous?"

"You never wanted these things before. They were signs of complacency to you."

"Nonsense. I never said that." The scientist seemed perplexed and disturbed for a moment. "Have I?"

Nameless Andrew didn't care to respond. He turned away, watched the green vegetation surrounding the road and thought of absolutely nothing. This was the first time since his departure to the Green Planet he could afford to let loose. The landscape changed without him having to use his imagination. Corn and wheat fields variegated the forests, more and more small villages mottled the vicinity of the highway. The traffic also increased drastically, it was clear they were nearing a city.

"There is nothing like the metropolis. I love it. All the hustle and bustle that goes on is like..."

" A circus."

"That's right."

"Now you have both of them. Bread and circus."

The scientist was offended. Nameless Andrew didn't mind. He felt homesick. There existed a world he belonged to. A world he had created. He was someone there without having to adapt to any alien ideology, he could simply be himself. The metropolis appearing in the distance was itself representing everything alien to him. It reduced one to a little dust particle, the shadows cast by the skyscrapers vividly reminded one of immeasurable dimensions. Contradictorily, the dimensions were much smaller here than in his world, where great depths of space surrounded him everywhere.

From a hilltop, he could gaze at the city emerging in its full size. It hadn't changed much in appearance. In fact its true character hadn't altered since ancient times, it was the Roman empire of bread and circus. Some chips and some blood were enough to satisfy most people's appetite. More they didn't want, had no facilities nor capabilities to digest more serious matters. And now the very man whose destiny it was supposed to be to change the course of history had joined the crowd, traded his notions for a handful of peanuts. Nameless Andrew glimpsed at the scientist and thought he was the greatest phoney of all times. A false prophet. For there was nothing worse than stopping and making a U-turn before the finish line.

"You see that beauty?" the scientist asked and poked him. "That's my little skyscraper," he said and pointed at a shiny facade of glass wall in the distance.

Nameless Andrew suddenly began to giggle uncontrollably, his body shaking. Then he inquired with sarcasm: "And will it outlast your lifetime? It would be beneficial to know just in case I wander under it."

The scientist seemed greatly displeased. Then he answered haughtily: "Nothing I was associated with ever collapsed."

"That's what the baron said. After all, he was never found to be associated with any of the misconducts he was responsible for. And how about the perfect machine? It hadn't turned out too well, had it?"

"It was an unfortunate accident," rejoined vehemently the scientist.

"It was a key to a world more colourful and versatile than anything before it," Nameless Andrew said. "But you never gave it a chance to work. You never had the guts to take the risks."

"It's easy to speak in hindsight, especially, if you weren't the one bearing the responsibilities. I had to make that decision. No one else could. And it's futile to ponder what would have been, and upsetting."

They drove off from the highway onto a bystreet of a wealthy neighbourhood. The centre of town was still a great distance off, large gardens and parks were located here. Nameless Andrew soon lost track of the number of turns they had made, from one street to the next, right and left, left and right. The only thing obvious to him was that the houses were getting larger, and he could smell the ocean. Shortly thereafter, he could also perceive a beautiful sandy beach.

They stopped by a house in the last street, only sand dunes and the sea were visible beyond. By its size, it was almost a castle, with a large underground garage and surrounding park. He could hear the laughter of children from within the garden, the clacking of a lawn mower. He felt as if returning from the future to the past. The stillness and seeming remoteness of the scientist's home reminded him of his childhood. This thought made Nameless Andrew fret, although he liked the intimacy of nature. But this represented failure to him, something degenerate.

They disembarked from the limousine in the garage, and ascended in an elevator to the ground level. "Hello, I'm home," the scientist shouted, and headed immediately to pour a glass of whisky for them. "Here," he said when finished, and handed him the beverage. Nameless Andrew simply shook his head. In response, the scientist shook his shoulders as if remarking: "It's not obligatory." They seated themselves on a sofa in the living room, or more realistically put, in one of the living rooms. In the meantime a maid passed by with a duster greeting the scientist with a bow given only for royalty. Then after some time the general appeared coming from the garden with an infant in her hands. She was still seductively beautiful. Her eyes told of her surprise at seeing him. Nameless Andrew felt uneasy, he felt like an intruder.

"I guess you know each other pretty well," the scientist uttered. She nodded. He wondered what the scientist was thinking. After all, he had been her lover for quite some time. Was he jealous? Had that emotion developed in the scientist at all? Nameless Andrew was certainly interested. He thought he would find out.

"We meet again, don't we?" He stood up and kissed the general on the cheek. "What a lovely daughter you have here," he said and fondled the infant. She shrank back, and looked at him intensely. Nameless Andrew pretended surprise.

"If I didn't know you better perhaps I'd believe you," the general explained. "But your voice is full of sarcasm."

"Nonsense," the scientist said thinking the atmosphere was tense. "Let bygones be bygones."

Nameless Andrew and the general sat opposite each other. In the meantime, the same maid passed by again, and picked up the infant. So only the three of them were in the living room. For a while in silence.

"How did you meet then?" Nameless Andrew asked abruptly.

"It was after the island was destroyed," said the scientist. "I took on a new identity, and with it started a new life in the city. I made use of my only possession at the time, the catamaran. With it, I carried sight-seers and tourists. Soon the business picked up, I expanded the company. Built it from scratch really. Now I have a number of tankers, boats, frigates, you name it. Of course, as the enterprise began to vary its activities I needed a potent person I could trust with financial matters. By coincidence, I met the general at a ball. It was a natural choice."

"Natural?!" Nameless Andrew laughed heartily.

"Yes," the general answered and frowned. "I became engaged with financial matters after you disappeared. Where have you been, by the way, all this time?"

"Far, very far away." There was some deep sadness in Nameless Andrew's voice, a stunning longing for that farness. He looked at the scientist and scolded him with his eyes.

"I bet you had a good time," the general continued on the offensive. "The babes were willing."

"Yes," Nameless Andrew rejoined. "All the babes there were willing. You could have learned from them."

The general gazed at the scientist, she expected him to intervene by saying: "Now wait a minute. I don't allow such talk in my house." But the scientist said nothing. The general must have been disappointed, Nameless Andrew thought.

"And then you got married?" he inquired further.

"Yes," the scientist said. "She... we were about to have a baby."

"So you thought it was time to establish a family?"

"Yes."

Nameless Andrew understood everything now. It was crystal clear to him. And instead of blaming the scientist for what he had become, he felt pain and sorrow, the loss of a paradise. He remembered an island of beauty, imagined a world of beauty, yet saw nothing but fragments and disarray.

****

The scientist had to attend a business meeting in the metropolis. The children were camping in a holiday resort for rich kids. When the general had taken farewell from them, she behaved as if they were going to some wilderness. Nameless Andrew had been surprised; this showed she attained motherly care he never imagined she would. Otherwise, she hadn't changed at all. Already on the day after his arrival, she questioned him when he would be looking for work. He wouldn't want to upset her unnecessarily by telling her that that was something he had no intention of doing.

He was freed from the daily routines. A man without future, past and, of course, present had no worries about what the next day would bring. He utilized the scientist's hospitality, relaxed in the garden. It was almost like the island, one could hear the waves crashing on the beach, see the stars at night. He was entitled to appeasement for the time he had lost. Naturally, the general had a different view about that.

"Finally I can talk to you in private," she said and sat down beside him on the grass. "I don't know what you have been doing before, and I truly don't care. But it can't go on like this. All you do is enjoy yourself on our cost. I advise you to find a job and get on with your life."

"Afraid?" Nameless Andrew asked with an evil smile appearing on his countenance.

"Afraid? Of what? I don't understand."

"Sure you do, babe," he said and embraced her.

The general looked furious. "Let me go at once or I'll shout."

"Shout then. No one will hear you. I have given the maid tonight off."

"You..."

She made some futile attempts to free herself, but then gave up. Somehow, her face lightened. He knew she couldn't resist any longer. He kissed her, and observed no more opposition.

****

The scientist was often away. He was frequently with the general, and was astonished the scientist had not yet noticed what was going on. Even the kids started to complain. Of course, the general quickly pacified their resentment; she was completely in control.

He hoped for a miracle. He wanted the scientist to rise once again and finish the work he had begun. He believed by cheating on him with the general the scientist would eventually find out and return to his old self in a fury. However, even letting the maid in on their secret hadn't produced any response whatsoever. There were no signs of the old rages; the scientist seemed well-balanced. Nameless Andrew thought the ideas and the fire of zeal died in him.

This is what he was considering on one late afternoon as well. He crouched on the sandy beach and watched the harbour in the distance with binoculars. The general was shopping, the scientist probably acquiring another part of the city he so much hated. A gentle breeze was blowing, wafting tempest clouds in from the sea. The climate was humid, curbing the development of abstract thoughts. At least that was what Nameless Andrew gathered by observing himself half-dozing. He sat there and peered at the ships coming and going. Workers were loading them, disembarking the wares. They were as small as ants even through the optics, and they worked as diligently as ants. He didn't envy them for the life they had. He had nothing, that was true, but he was free. He believed possessions simply bound a person to places or conducts, tied one up and made one too cautious to take risks or change lifestyles from one day to the next. The scientist was the best example of a man who seemingly had it all: a big house, pretty wife, children, money and respect. But he had no dreams any more. No questions.

With the help of the binoculars, he could see the docks as through a tunnel, and in detail. Without it, he perceived the harbour in perspective. He was close yet distant; this provided him with reflection otherwise only the wisdom of old age could bring. In a way he was old, indeed, a relic of past times. He had been through more experiences in his life than most people would in millennia. These weren't only events, but a development in the manner he thought. Software evolution. He had come a great distance from a man using only his instincts to a man completely suppressing them. Had this development been good or advantageous? Possibly not. Not in evolutionary terms anyway. It made him into a renegade more or less, entirely disjoint from other groups. There was no place for him under the sun, and he knew it. But he didn't mind. He was still alive; the ocean continued rolling and the sea gulls hovered above him.

He wondered whether the clouds would assemble into a storm. He thought it would have been refreshing. The sun was certainly being wrapped up by the tempest clouds, its scorching arrows still reflecting on the waves though. The wind gradually increased creating a strange aura of decadence. The sand was blown by it quickly engulfing him as well. The waves crashed on the beach with jolting force.

Nevertheless, the commotion hadn't ceased in the harbour, the disembarking had to continue. The metropolis was a vulnerable structure, regardless of its monumental buildings and appearance, it was reliant on outside shipping. If these were not forthcoming the city would be in dire straits, and soon chaos would follow. On the other hand, great and sometimes dubious transactions took place here.

After a sudden thundering, the rain started falling in fat droplets. He thought about hurrying to seek shelter, but then changed his mind. In a moment, he was drenched to the skin, his clothes adhering to him like soaked rags. The clouds of dust scourged by the wind vanished; soon he saw nothing of the harbour through the thick veil of water. He stood there in the rain and anticipated the wind would take him far away, blow him high above the storm. As a child, he had often felt this sensation; it gave him a feeling of power and strength.

He had no idea how long he could have stood there. Whether it had been minutes or hours didn't really matter, the scientist was simply there all of a sudden.

"You should come in," he said.

Nameless Andrew couldn't see him clearly. "We have to talk," he shouted, then shrank back in fright. It was the scientist, as he had known him before, meagre and pale in a protecting white cloak and with thick glasses.

"Our time is running out, my friend," the scientist said sombrely. "You are right, we do have to talk."

The rain was pouring, the storm relentlessly continuing, but they still stood their ground.

"I don't understand anything," Nameless Andrew said.

"Yet it's all so simple."

"Let's start at the beginning. You are rich, are you not?"

"Yes."

"You are the scientist, are you not?"

"Yes." The scientist's glasses turned foggy, his sickly body shivering.

"You do know I have cheated on you with your wife?"

"Yes," the scientist said as if it were the most natural thing.

"What?!" Nameless Andrew was perplexed.

"She deserved some variety, didn't she? I don't care. I had a number of secretaries over the years, you understand. Our marriage was that of interests. She needed a wealthy and appreciated husband, I a representative wife, whom I would not be ashamed of taking to a ball."

Nameless Andrew laughed sarcastically. "And what about your dreams?"

"They were lunatic ideas, my friend. I certainly hadn't been on this Earth at the time."

Nameless Andrew looked angrily at the scientist, although he realized he couldn't see him. Then he unexpectedly said: "You buried your beliefs, dreams and emotions. You're the beggar."

"The what? I'm a millionaire." The scientist shook his head. "Are you with me at all?"

"Remember what you told me about some people who stood up against the baron, but failed miserably. In fact, they became tools in his hands later."

"Nonsense," the scientist said. "There is no baron, never has been."

"I weep for you," Nameless Andrew rejoined. "I weep for all the lost years."

"I'm sorry if you feel that way. But see things on the bright side: we have made it, we run the show now. We are independent."

"The independence of money is the ultimate dependence."

"Nonsense," the scientist said, and tried to make Nameless Andrew leave the premises. But Nameless Andrew didn't want to. He just stood in the rain, the water streaming down his body.

****

The sky was crystal clear. There were no signs of the storm, only a cool wind was left as a reminder. The stars shimmered at him; their reflections were shining in lines on the surface of the water. The harbour was relatively quiet, its lights almost invisible in the darkness. The sand was wet and soft, nearly as much as the landscape of the Green Planet. The Planet was out there somewhere in the distance, but too far away now to make any difference. The storm was over.

There was a white waterproof beside him spread out as if its wearer had submerged in the sand, leaving it behind. And in a way that was so. The scientist had disappeared and so had Nameless Andrew. It was only him now. Actually, it had always been only him. A man of thoughts and conflicting ideas that occasionally almost sundered his personality into two: the thorough and logical scientist and the instinctive and emotional Nameless Andrew.

He watched the night sky. For a second there was brightness among the sparkling stars. A meteor entered the atmosphere, but was quickly burned to dust. Its shine was short and indecisive.

There he stood. A man with glistering silvery eyes, tall and strong. A man no more in doubts.

He was the beggar.

###THE END###

To contact the author write to **johnfajo@zoho.com** , or visit the author's page at Smashwords.com.
