Connexion : The Atlantis Project, Book.1 (7 page)

“If I understand correctly, you do not always
share the same tastes?” joked Mario. “I hope it’s not the case when
it comes to women?”

Charlie, embarrassed, began to blush at the
thought of broaching this delicate subject in the presence of
Clementine. Jacques decided to come to his aid by taking things in
hand. He broke into a forced laugh, anxious not to let anyone
notice the embarrassment caused; then he steered the conversation
back to the initial topic.

“Charlie loves fruit liqueurs. Actually, for
that reason alone, I’m sure he would like Italy. As for me, I
prefer to savor a good French wine from time to time, or an old
Cognac like this one.”

“But we have some excellent red wines in
Italy,” replied Alvaro, a little put out. “You French are not the
only ones who know how to make good wine.”

“Ah, Gentlemen
,
you mustn’t upset
Alvaro about his homeland, or you’ll pay for it!” Mario interjected
playfully. “And you, Clementine? What do you usually drink?”

“Oh, I’m rather like Charlie. I like
fortified wines and a good on-tap beer from time to time. Apart
from that, I don’t know a lot about wine. I was working in a bar
and tobacconists’ before the explosion.”

As she said the words, images of the disaster
flooded her mind. Her face clouded suddenly and tears started to
run slowly down her cheeks, now flushed with emotion. Sitting
beside her, Mario wondered what was wrong, but Clementine could not
manage to speak. So he laid a comforting hand on her shoulder and
said nothing.

In the end it was Jacques who broke the
silence.

“The explosion has affected us deeply. You
could say that we lost everything in the disaster, starting with
our friends, but also our homes and our way of life. It dawns on
you gradually. Until now none of it seemed real, but as the days go
by, you start to feel the pain. Even today I’m not sure if I’ve
really taken in what happened to us that day. Anyway, there’s a
“before” and an “after”, that’s for sure. For now, it’s as if my
mind refuses to think about the past. All that remains, are images
of the explosion, in flashes; bodies lying on the ground, dust,
blood, the feeling of solitude, injustice. Why others and not us?
Women, children, everyone was dead except us. And then there was
this little girl who I’d been horrible to just moments earlier.
Just because of a look and a tactless question. I can’t help
thinking about her today. I imagine her lying dead, beside her
mother. Those thoughts come back to me often, but I try to chase
them out of my mind, to push them away, as far away from me as
possible. It’s too late now; it wasn’t our fault and we can’t
change anything.”

The mood had become heavy, much too heavy for
Jacques, who had said much more than he intended. Just as he would
push away the images that regularly invaded his mind, he quickly
pushed away the emotions that were starting to get the better of
him. Taking hold of himself brusquely he steered the conversation
in another, more technical direction this time.

“I guess we don’t know any more about the
explosion? What really happened? Do you know? Was it an attack?
Maybe Giuseppe knows. He’s the one who brought us all the way
here.”

Mario exchanged looks with Alvaro before
answering Jacques. “I’m sorry, but we don’ know much more than you
do for now. We simply assume that there could be a link between
that event and the research that we’re carrying out here. At least,
that’s the theory maintained by Francisco. He is personally
convinced of the simultaneity of the explosion that happened last
Sunday in Paris, and the sudden increase in electrical activity
detected in Victor’s brain.”

“That said, it is only a hypothesis, and not
even a very scientific one,” added Alvaro. “After all, it wouldn’t
be the first time that two events have taken place at the same time
without there being any link between them. But Giuseppe has blind
faith in Francisco, anyway. Those two are like an old couple.”

“How so?”

“Alvaro means that they have known each other
for a very long time. Francisco is the son of his first wife.
Giuseppe raised him as his own son. It’s thanks to Giuseppe that
he’s here today. I suppose you were told that Francisco is
autistic?”

“Yes, we were”, Charlie replied.

Mario decided to launch into a detailed
explanation of the bonds that united the two men, who seemed so
different.

“During his childhood, Francisco was placed
in a so-called special center, where he vegetated more than
anything else. One day, his mother walked out, leaving no address.
She left everything behind; her personal belongings, her car, her
dog, her son and, of course, Giuseppe. Francisco showed absolutely
no emotion following her departure. Since then, Giuseppe, who had
grown attached to him and saw huge cognitive potential in him,
decided to take over his education, with the help of his colleagues
from the neuropsychology lab where he worked at the time. So
Francisco grew up surrounded by some of Italy’s most brilliant
scientists. Little by little he learned to communicate, be sociable
and especially to exploit his extraordinary capacity for logical
reasoning and memorization. With Giuseppe’s help, he then went off
to study in prestigious Parisian universities and eventually found
his place in the small, very closed world of fundamental research.
In fact, I believe that his mother’s leaving was the best thing
that could have happened to him. Giuseppe doesn’t seem to have been
too affected by it. Anyway, even when she was there, he hardly
noticed her at all; he was so absorbed in his work. The world of
research is probably one of the places where highly autistic or
simply unusual people, can fit in most easily. To want to spend our
lives gazing at test-tubes, forsaking all else, I think we must all
be slightly autistic or sociopathic. But, you see, with occasions
like today I try to make up for that.”

“But you, Mario, what brought you here?”
asked Clementine. “You seem to enjoy the good life.”

“That’s true; it’s sometimes difficult to
remain shut in here for months on end, even if the place is big. I
–”

“Don’t you have a wife or children back in
Italy?” interrupted Charlie.

“You know, I’ve been here for over ten years.
Giuseppe came and found me when I had only just finished my thesis.
At the time I was not ready to settle down. When he told me about
the N.H.I. program and the existence of this base, I immediately
saw it as the chance of a lifetime. I finally had the opportunity
for a unique experience of furthering myself. And also, I was
flattered that Giuseppe had chosen me to be part of his research
team. At the University he was a role model for many of us. His
work on reprogramming stem cells was opening the door to all kinds
of possibilities and had our young apprentice sorcerers’
imaginations running wild. Today I don’t regret my choice, even if
coming back from leave is sometimes difficult.”

Jacques seized the opportunity to bring up
another topic that was close to his heart.

“A nice cigar would be just the thing to
round off this delicious feast you prepared for us with such
finesse, I must say. Unfortunately, it’s one of the many things
we’re not permitted to do here. Do you smoke, Mario?”

“There are a lot of regulations here but, you
know, there’s always a way to allow oneself a few liberties as long
as one maintains a certain level of discretion.”

At these words Jacques’ face suddenly lit up
with a blissful smile. Mario left the table for a few moments
before coming back to them.

“Come with me. I’m going to take you to one
of the hanging gardens. There’s no place better for savoring a last
moment of relaxation and meditation before going off to the land of
Nod.”

The little group moved as one man toward a
door at the end of the canteen, but Alvaro left them, after wishing
a good evening to all. A staircase led to the landing where they
had seen Francisco come down a few hours earlier. Mario stood in
front of a small console with a tactile screen which allowed him to
choose the hanging garden he wished to bring down. He asked
Clementine and the twins, who had been standing back, to come
closer so he could explain how it worked.

“You can choose any one of the unoccupied
gardens. There are fifteen different gondolas. Each one has its own
special features. It’s up to you to choose according to your
preference. It’s mainly the kinds of plants and their arrangement
that differs, but the gondola’s position under the dome is also
very important, especially if you want to be shielded from curious
eyes. Strictly speaking, there are not supposed to be more than two
people per gondola but for tonight we can make an exception. Garden
number 13 is one of the highest and most pleasant.”

After selecting number 13 on the screen,
Mario looked up, pointing to the highest point of the dome. They
could hardly make out more than a dark smudge coming down toward
them. The intense light coming from the concave ceiling enveloped
the small platform so that the first details were only perceptible
when it was halfway down. First, it was the flowers’ vivid colors
that stood out, and then a small, low table between two wooden
lounge chairs became visible through the glass floor. The seat
cushions were of the same green as the first leaves of spring, when
the buds are just starting to open – that soft, peaceful green that
brings back the optimism and taste for life that usually accompany
the first signs of warmer weather. A discreet fence, hidden in the
shrubbery, marked the edge of the landscaped platform. Only its
steel gate was visible, opening automatically as the gondola
touched the ground. Slowly, the cables lifted the little group into
the heights of the dome, amidst a surreal décor, still bathed in
light despite the lateness of the hour. Mario took a small silver
case from his pocket. With one deft clip, he cut the end off of the
first cigar, which he held out to Clementine.

“Ladies first!”

She accepted it with only slight hesitation.
Mario took an old Zippo out of his other pocket. Clementine’s first
breaths let out large puffs of opaque smoke, releasing a
characteristic aroma.

“I can see that you’re an old hand. I chose
small Havanas that I get from a specialist shop in Naples.
Actually, I am no expert, but it’s a pleasure I have become
accustomed to over the last few years. Apparently these ones are
particularly appreciated by connoisseurs.”

Mario turned to the twins. “Jacques, I
suppose you are eager to try one? Charlie, do you smoke too?”

Jacques answered for him, “My brother is a
dyed-in-the-wool puritan. He spends a lot of his time trying to
talk sense into me and, if possible, to make me feel guilty.”

“I’ll let that slide,” said Charlie with a
smile. “Actually, what Jacques says is true. I’m not usually a
smoker, but on occasion I do appreciate a fine cigar, especially
when the circumstances lend themselves to it, as they do
today.”

Mario laughed heartily at the well-defined
roles the brothers assumed, forever united in spite of themselves,
by an unbreakable bond. In some ways they were like an old couple
who had learned to grow together without forgoing any of their
original differences. They were all savoring the moment and the
little garden was plunged into almost complete silence for a few
moments. Plumes of smoke rose slowly from the gondola then
dispersed into the gleaming heights of the dome.

Mario spoke again, in a more serious tone,
“You know, it may be your difference that saves you one day.” Then
he fell silent, leaving the twins to wonder about the true meaning
and relevance of his comment.

9 EXPLANATIONS

Giuseppe stood before his audience. Despite
his long years in a strictly scientific world, he had never been
able to resist enriching his speeches with expressive gestures – no
doubt reminiscent of his national origins.

“First of all, you must know that Victor’s
state is close to that of hibernation, although it has lasted for
centuries, perhaps even millennia, according to our estimation. In
fact, we do not know for precisely how long he has been in this
state. His sleep is therefore extremely deep and very old. His
muscle tone is practically zero. In spite of this, we have been
able to establish with certainty that Victor dreams. Of course, we
are not able to discern the nature of his dreams, but it seems that
some of them resemble what we know as nightmares. Several times,
his eye movement has sped up markedly and his brain activity has
shown significant acceleration. We even thought he might wake up
suddenly, as is the case for humans when the emotions caused by a
dream become unbearable.”

“But that has never happened?” asked
Charlie.

“No. As you can see, Victor is still asleep
and the mystery remains intact.”

“You said he had recently shown signs of
waking up, following the explosion we were involved in. Isn’t it
more likely to have been because of one of the nightmares you
mentioned?”

“We thought so at first, but the signals
recorded are of a different nature this time. In particular, this
activity has not been accompanied by the previously observed eye
movement and it continues today, whereas after the nightmare phases
his brain activity quickly decreased again. This is why we think
that Victor has detected something from an external source, like
some sort of signal which may have begun a slow awakening
process.”

Jacques spoke up, “Am I to understand that
you think this monster could wake up any minute? In that case, why
do you need us?”

“That’s not exactly it,” answered Francisco.
“Victor is certainly no monster. He is a being of unknown origin
who, according to all probability, must be of superior
intelligence. The problem is that if my reasoning is correct, the
waking phase could well be very long. We need you here to get to
know him and possibly accelerate the process that has begun.”