Chapter 1 - The only dream -
In front of the window, as every night, I contemplate a nighttime panorama of our city; tonight, the atmosphere is gloomier and more laden, enveloping it in a cloak of mystery and shadows that intensifies its great beauty. The darkness highlights the imposing silhouette of some of the gigantic buildings that rise up to the sky, their shapes barely visible but imposing enough to command absolute respect.
The atmosphere tonight seems denser and more enigmatic, as if the city harbors secrets that are only revealed in the darkest hours. Suddenly, drops begin to hit the glass of my window; it will start to rain soon, so I decide to retreat to my bed. As I head there, my attention is captured by the full-length mirror that adorns one of the walls of my room. In its reflection, the figure of a young man with a delicate build, somewhat disheveled blonde hair, and blue eyes reflecting the curiosity typical of my fifteen years is revealed. I don’t reach the height of some of my friends, but so far, life has treated me well.
It’s time to rest, and as I wander through my room, clad in a completely blue pajama set that, though somewhat loose, wraps me in the warmth of memories from the last Christmas holidays. It’s a gift I cherish quite a lot. Every detail, from the raindrops hitting my window to the soft touch of the pajamas, contributes to the unique atmosphere of this night, moments where you can’t explain what you’re feeling, something strange but good.
Tonight, a strange unease has taken hold of me, preventing me from finding the rest I so desperately need. I experience that nervous sensation focused on my stomach, while my mind spins in a frantic attempt to amplify the source of my unease. Behind me, on the wall, the date, time, and year are reflected, as a constant reminder of the relentless march of time.
I turn to look at the information panel that spans almost the entire width of the wall. This device, about two meters wide and a meter and a half high, is a constant presence in every room of my home, as well as in the rooms of all the inhabitants of the nation of Kírol. Four small black devices strategically anchored to the wall display these information panels, and the light projects the crucial data that the nation shares with us.
In red letters, the present moment is proclaimed:
“9:54 p.m. Tuesday, December 9, 2070”
Every digit, every letter, comes to life in the darkness of the room, reminding me that I am immersed in a world where time is both my ally and my adversary, marking the rhythm of an existence guided by the information flowing through these panels, making you feel that, whether you like it or not, you are part of this whole system, connecting us all in the vast network of the Nation of Kírol.
I reach my bed with the intention of finally resting and lie down. I begin to hear the rain hitting the window glass with increasing force. I have a bad feeling, and that keeps me tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep. The room is silent; I turn off the room light by sliding my finger over the remote control. Although my room might seem like that of a boy living in 2010, many things have changed; everything is robotic, and although artificial intelligence was a discovery meant to improve life on the planet, it was suppressed for the good of humanity, limited to a few tasks, before the Fourth World War. Now, I can only hear the raindrops pounding against the window glass, disrupting my tranquility. I try not to pay attention to that torturous noise, but it’s impossible not to heed its call.
For a few minutes, I feel relaxed, entering a state of mental peace that is difficult for me to achieve, and I think that sleep is finally going to overcome the nerves coursing through my body. But a loud gunshot echo through my house, causing me to jump out of bed.
I quickly leave my room, my body trembling. The hallway is dark, the only light source coming from the street through the windows of the house, giving it a terrifying atmosphere. The house lights have gone out; no matter how much I pass my hand over the remote control to turn them on, they don’t respond. I call out to my mother from the upper floor; she usually is in the living room around this time, but she doesn’t answer, so I start going downstairs to look for her since my father must still be at work and hasn’t returned.
As I descend the stairs, I hear another gunshot and hurry to reach the ground floor of the house, without thinking about the consequences this might bring. I lean against the open living room doorframe, from where I can see that the windows are shattered.
There are glass shards scattered on the floor, rain and a hurricane-force wind blowing in, a wind that gets stronger and stronger until it blows open the front door of the house. At that moment, everything begins to disintegrate, as if in a science fiction movie; it’s something I struggle to process, my mind unable to understand what’s happening. I run back to my room, kicking myself and taking the stairs two at a time because it’s the place where I feel safe, sit’s my sanctuary, and nothing can happen there. Where is my mother? What is happening?
As I enter my room, I close the door by pressing the automatic lock button and enter the lock code. The door slides from left to right, sealing completely.
I turn around and see my reflection in the mirror again, but I’m no longer fifteen years old: It’s me, but the reflection staring back at me is that of a slightly older boy wearing a black Kairgans suit. The Kairgans are the soldiers who protect the five nations that make up the world; they are responsible for enforcing the rules of coexistence.
I look out the window and see the hovercraft attacking the city. These hovercrafts are used by the Kairgans to chase down criminals, for transport, and for travel. They are the exclusive means of transport used by them. Meanwhile, on the street, I can see the soldiers on foot eliminating everyone who crosses their path. Everything is being bombed, and I am stunned as I watch everything get engulfed in fire and smoke.
The window starts to block out due to the national defense system, but I can still hear gunfire and screams. Everything is being destroyed; it seems like a war. Why would anyone want to destroy us? I snap out of it and notice how suddenly the information panel projects the symbol of our nation and then displays a written message that is played through the speaker system:
“The Nation of Kírol warns all citizens that we are under attack. Seek a safe place until further notice.”
4:47 a.m. Saturday, August 3, 2088.
My room starts to disintegrate just like the rest of the house, and everything becomes as surreal as it is terrifying. The noises have stopped, and now I can only hear a continuous beeping sound. A strong wind causes my room to disintegrate before my eyes, leaving me suspended in absolute nothingness; I close my eyes so I won’t see what’s happening because I don’t understand any of it.
The beeping stops abruptly, allowing me to hear my own thoughts accompanied by the beating of my heart, which seems to be starting to calm down. I begin to hear the voices of children talking and laughing. I still keep my eyes closed out of fear and feel them running around near me; I hear their footsteps and voices passing very close, and that gives me the confidence to know that wherever I am, it’s not a dangerous place.
It seems the bombing has stopped, and I open my eyes to discover that I am on the floor of one of the nation’s training centers. I quickly look for something to reflect my image after seeing myself in the mirror with an age that wasn’t mine, to see what I look like now because all of this seems like a dream. I find a window in the hallway where the glass reflects that I still appear to be my fifteen-year-old self. Behind my reflection, I can see the training center courtyard where I go, with trees and everything covered in snow; usually, the center is like the rest of the nation, pristine white, immaculate. Now my clothing is a bit different, wearing the white uniform of mandatory training.
I touch my face to make sure everything is back to what it was and sigh in relief, thinking that I haven’t lost so many years of my life in a second. I look out the window again, and my face of tranquility changes as I observe what lies beyond the glass: everything is as dark as when I looked out my bedroom window. The appearance of the center has suddenly changed; now it looks eerie and deteriorated, the trees burned, and ash invades the courtyard that just moments ago was dressed in a peaceful white.
I start walking through the hallways; everything is very strange. I see on a digital panel an image of the planet highlighting its five nations in color. Life has changed a lot since the year 2049, which witnessed the beginning and end of the Fourth World War, which resulted in the five continents forming the five nations we know today, with Antarctica becoming a Kairgans research base. To many, this is strange.
I keep walking through the hallways, but people don’t seem to see me. On another information panel in the center, I see the words “The Nation of Kírol” illuminated, the nation that corresponds to the former European continent, our nation.
The five states are governed by the same laws and ruled by two clans, “The Horde of Dushor” and the “Kairgans,” the soldiers. Among them, they decided to create a new world where violence, hunger, and misfortunes would be eliminated for the good of humanity. There are also restricted areas in each nation for civilians, which can lead to trouble as they are only for the Horde and the Kairgans.
Currently, training centers teach and focus a lot on the terrible consequences that this last war caused. It is there that, from a young age, we are taught what they want and manipulated to accept the improvements that the planet underwent by unifying methods in the five nations. And I say this because, at fifteen years old, I still think it’s a flawed system.
The center brings back fond memories but also bitterness; there I had unique moments with friends and some love, but it is also psychologically tough for a mind as different as mine.
Suddenly, a tremor makes me fall to the ground; people run around scared and screaming. Another explosion sounds, and I hear that beeping sound that deafened me in my room. I see a cloud of fire and dust entering through the main door, heading towards me quickly, but I see it in slow motion. This time, I don’t have time to get up, so I cover my face with my hands and throw myself back on the floor, the only thing I manage to do is scream, “Mom.”
I wake up with a jolt in my bed, in my room, sweating and somewhat nervous. I hurry to check the information panel:
07:12 a.m. July 10, 2087
This room is white and large, unlike my childhood room; it is the room of the center where I work. I calm down seeing that everything is the same, I am still in the present, and that another night has brought the same nightmare I’ve had since I was a child; it seems that after so many years, it is not going to disappear.
I still don’t find meaning in that dream, although I understand part of it, I don’t understand why I see myself as older. A Kairgans suit and in the year 2088. There’s only half a year left to discover the reason for that part of the dream, or not.
—Could it be a premonitory dream? — I wonders.
Forgetting the dream, I get out of bed, go down the side of it, and prepare to walk around the large room.
I see how the sunlight enters through the glass door, a partially open door that lets in the breeze trying to enter the room and is stopped by a smooth white silk curtain that prevents the air from coming in, an air that I miss every morning, every night, and every day that I spend in this prison. Perhaps this is the cause of that recurring dream that tortures me every night.
