METROTRAIN LOG
Thanks for the musical background to
https://ccmixter.org «RenoVation»; by Airtone
Once upon a time an improbable happened, or who knows, maybe more than once.
Long ago and as a daily and kind ritual, Quimey and his father were walking together that day, just as the white sun was rising through lonely streets adorned with early spring colors, litmus-mixed sidewalks, and velvety traces of cold.
Ending that early morning, they were surprised by an icy breeze that hit them head-on. Like winter itself bidding them farewell after an inclement season. But with irony, with a last dry sigh that slowly froze the minutes lulling them to sleep. As they huddled with their hands in their pockets and among themselves in a rhythm of endless streets towards the station. It was when the panorama became jammed like in an old movie theater; the film tape stopped being continuous and overlapped. Only a few realized, that day a real imponderable happened. An unusual story.
That morning, like many, they reached the 7:33 am metro train that crosses the valley towards the cities of gold, in those electric cars of smooth and wobbly rolling, of a polished metallic contact. Place where imagination and curiosity manifested itself in Quimey at a beautiful 11 years of age, through a simple child’s conversation. While moving with his father in the subway to the central city one day in October 2019.
They commonly used to do the same; walking very early in the mornings from their home along quiet and colorful sidewalks. Among various wet tones of flowering gardens, bushes and leafy and elusive trees that cross the boundaries of privacy to the sidewalks. In panoramas of warm tones made with brushstrokes, reds and ochers mingling in frost. All this, in a small inland town close to the big cities, a premeditated choice towards a quieter and less polluted life. So, as a healthy habit both – father and son -, walk and talk about many things; almost always about nothing contingent, nonsense far from the toxic reality. Simple things and other extravagant and childish things. Very little about religions, politics or macro economies. Rather really important topics; like «the girl in question», the most beat up bicycle, the top comic, or tasty stories from the same town. Lots of music, books or urban philosophy. In short, things like that, of the fundamentally immediate life.
Of the sons, the oldest of the three was Quimey, but at the same time a very young boy. Of a healthy nature that sometimes made him look naive, but this was only a superficial image. A shell that enclosed a radiant and somewhat melancholic being, of many virtues separately and also in unison. Questioning everything since he was a child, even himself, in a state of constant abstraction, he seemed to rule everything with big and beautiful eyes.
Already on the way to the city of the sun, on that subway; Quimey began to relate what turned out to be almost a show. Starting as a simple childish commentary that later unintentionally ended up in something else, all related to very striking characters that he had been watching with healthy fanaticism on TV for a long time. Little by little and effervescently he began to talk about animated comics, he spoke exalted making reference to fictional themes; things from other universes, realities and times, where characters were related to multiple parallel versions, extraordinary and alternate worlds. Fantastic matters that he brought to reality and that he expressed in a very histrionic and sympathetic way, as if he was rehearsing a theatrical play. An eloquent narration that was also observed by involuntary and strange but very amused spectators, people who shared the semi-tight space of the subway that colorful and frosty spring morning.
The landscape had been lying in drops dripping down the fogged windows, little could be seen outside, so many could see Quimey, who, at a rhythm independent of the train’s swaying, caught them with naturalness, capturing their ideas and seasoning them with his somewhat disjointed but very funny body mimics. The story emanated from him with such fluidity that it seemed as if he was telling a real story.
The Story itself was of quantum theory, but of cartoon and television. Full of fanciful nuances, always with a childlike dynamic, a kind of school essay and a science fair at the same time. Of pure and naive fantasy and imagination, he playfully mixed the real and speculated in a way that intrigued, and effectively immersed everyone in his tale in the rolling and rolling of metal. Thus Quimey made the trip very short, at least in eight to nine stations where he compressed the wait on that trip pleasantly.
After all, he is of this exact time; before everything is apparently exposed. Because it would seem that today’s children will soon cease to be naive altogether, won’t they? All this modernity, communities and social networks that give way to children and young people like him to develop these ideas and others, to share them in different digital worlds as if nothing, but in this case him; in the subway on the way to central city. That frosty spring day, he did so by concluding his frenetic story with a singular question addressed to his father.
And Quimey then asks;
– Dad, what if someone comes from the future or the past to visit me, what should we do, what should we do so as not to ruin everything, because that always happens, someone travels in time and spoils everything. That’s right, that happens in all the series I know.
Only for a long moment did he anticipate his father’s first reaction, which was a smile. But unconscious, a reflex action invaded by nerves for not having anything serious or sustainable to answer Quimey. He kept any comment for long seconds, and after the awkward smile and seeing that the other improvised and discreet spectators in the subway were waiting for a dignified response to everything his son had said, he felt it was best to act with a bit of seriousness. Besides, Quimey was already looking at him with a «please, I’m talking to you seriously» face. So it was that his father after shuffling very few answers told him, the truth first of all….
… I don’t know! To add later – Well actually «they say», that a paradox (contrary to) – occurs, using the most used word, strange and somewhat diphonic, but the fashionable cliché in circumstances like these. The obligatory lifeline in science fiction matters vis-à-vis children. «Yes,» he repeated paradoxically. It’s what they always say in the movies, that it would not be good to alter the story – he suggested – not even surprising his son with the answer, because the child already knew this word. And far from feeling a connoisseur in the matter, at least he felt more relieved. So much so, that after the previous sentence, he finishes off with more naivety; «Besides in some movies, it is shown that it is not good for this to happen, instead in others; you just alter a single timeline and nothing happens. I don’t know son, it’s very difficult for me to explain it, I’m just repeating to you what is popular culture regarding the subject. I don’t know anything else» – concluded the father being sincere – Who could have no idea of the answer to the question, just when the subway loudspeaker was getting ready to sound, announcing the station for each one.
Hey, but it’s certainly a very entertaining subject anyway,» his father commented energetically to encourage him, adding something like «Quentum – Quantum» in a joking, smiling pun. All this dialogue already as they were on their way to their destinations that October morning. Each one to school and office respectively, as was customary for them almost every day on the metro-train.
Immediately after Quimey told such a histrionic story, as every morning, he would receive a kiss on the forehead from his father, before getting off at the main station of «Adlafken» (the floating city on the sea), and then a few minutes after this farewell, a very special young woman got on the carriage. A singular girl with short hair, beautiful blue and crystalline eyes, with a somewhat pale face and very particular clothes. An outfit of natural fiber, revealing some colorful tattoos on her neck and others on her hands. She looked like she belonged to some eco-urban tribe that was very fashionable; particularly well-groomed. It caught everyone’s attention, because in the subway everyone is looking at each other, and no one at the same time; something very typical, and only in the subway. But the most disturbing thing was the attitude with which this young woman got on; seriously looking for someone or something among the people, with that single and sharp intention she entered the car at the opposite end to where Quimey’s father was. A good fifteen meters away, at least fifteen meters. Walking slowly and reading a paper in his hands. He advanced smoothly down the aisle as he searched demurely and stealthily, but with a deep and accurate gaze discriminating among all the faces. She walked through the carriage calmly and very confidently, many of the passengers watching her as she swayed slowly and steadily, and Quimey’s father; finding himself at the end of the carriage in a place where he could see her better than she could see him. And somehow, as the woman went through the people, he began to worry little by little, in spite of the fact that he was a temperate guy and without any predisposition to nerves. How ridiculous! he argued to himself, in an unknown way he was uncomfortable with the situation, he could not explain, what stupidity, if it was the first time he saw that person. Until finally she stood about five meters away and stared at him, who for the last time carefully observes the crumpled paper in her hands, advancing a little further like a good explorer finds his target. Fixing those crystal blue eyes on him. Standing still at a very short distance, she smiled a little smile, and moved even closer.
«Hello» – she said gently – «Are you Quimey’s father?» – with a very strange accent as she spoke. And he was a bit puzzled, a lot of possible things and questions were going through his mind, she was a total stranger. For if it weren’t for the calmness and sincerity this girl conveyed, in any other instance he would have been very uneasy, and for a strange reason, he was not. And, «yes», hello – he answered -, I am Quimey’s father, he said doing it kindly as one who answers to a tourist any query, although it was not the same – But why would it be? – he answered and added- My son just got off at the same station you got on five minutes ago.
– Really?! – exclaimed the young woman, her countenance turning from agitated to sad in a matter of seconds.
– What a pity – she said -, I would have loved to meet him, it would have been wonderful, a giant honor – she added with a bit of nostalgia -. But upon hearing that, a somewhat strange phrase, Quimey’s father was quite dismayed. He didn’t know if this girl was teasing him, nor did he know where the conversation was going, he didn’t know what was going on. Saying; And why are you asking me if I’m her dad if you don’t even know him? The truth is that he became quite impatient with the illogic of the phrases of this stranger regarding his 11 year old son. He thought about why such a strange girl was asking him about his son. He was already about to react otherwise, he was a sharp and not very polite guy in situations like this. And being about to show his distrust she rightly stopped him by saying; «Calm down, please calm down. I have to get off at the next station, I just wanted to pass you something. This ‘envelope’ is for Quimey. And also to tell you that you have nothing to worry about. Tell your son that he is a genius, and we are all very proud and grateful for him.»
The girl glowed in her crystalline, blue eyes, in an obvious emotion to her, but unknown emotion to him. She stared at him one last time, walked over, and gave him a hug and called him by name; «Julian, unfortunately I have to get off, I would love to have more time to be able to talk to you, but the truth is I don’t, I have to go.» All these last moments when the subway doors opened to get off and the bell rang, hurrying the whole scene; she finished giving him a warm kiss on the cheek, and then turned to the doors in closing alarm, getting off the train quickly, getting lost among the people of the place.
Stereometric image, if you can, try to join the upper red and green points. When you do so, you will see the image in 3D with your eyes (without 3D glasses).
If you manage to do so, you will feel a sensation in the upper central part of your skull, a sign of activating brain connections that you usually do not make.
And there he stood, stunned and thoughtful for a few minutes. Until he went down a couple of kilometers further. And by the hand of inertia he walked more abstracted than ever and faster and faster to get to his office with that yellow and somewhat crumpled envelope in his hands – which was not very bulky, or anything like that -, while he quickly accompanied himself out of the corner of his eye, by his reflection in the windows of the stores and store windows in that now more agile and nervous walk, groping that envelope.
He took its pulse trying to imagine what it might contain inside. The most immediate thing he thought of was papers or some documents. Maybe money or even a comic book, or photographs too. Something like that, no more than that. But this letter was impervious to Julian’s curiosity, it did not show him any kind of special contents, it only had his son’s name on the outside in capital letters labeled, with something of little weight inside this taped envelope, -very well sealed otherwise-.
Initially he had no intention of opening it, but thought that, for peace of mind, being then alone in his office he could perhaps check its contents, more than anything else for safety’s sake. Out of immense curiosity, but only preventive, because the addressee was his son. Besides, the bearer of the envelope was very unusual to have any relationship with Quimey. What important business could this girl have with him?
It was the doubt that hurried his pace, so much so that he would arrive as soon as possible to lock himself in his office. As some people or children do on certain occasions when receiving gifts; intimately. Alone and nervous in their private spaces, enjoying the moment of surprise and the gift in the tranquility of the personal. But this was not the same, not the same situation. But certainly of a similar intensity. Because Julian was very anxious, he could not stop thinking about the episode with the girl with crystalline eyes in the subway, and what this mysterious yellow envelope might contain.
Finally, after much thought and sitting in his chair, he decided not to open the envelope that day in his office. Instead, he opted to keep the envelope until he could tell his son about it and open it with him. After all, it had his name written on the outside and the sealing had been done in earnest. He respected his son very much and thought; whatever he had inside, there were the trusts to share it together. So the rest of that day in his cubicle was an eternity because of his decision to open the envelope with his son once they were safely home. Besides, he also had to tell Quimey about the whole episode of this unknown and very special young woman who was looking for him.
The hours and minutes passed with each of their seconds, and Julian looked at the desk clock a hundred times until finally the first sirens sounded, alarms that seemed that they were never going to be felt that day in the city. Thunderous sirens that marked the departure time for the first shifts, those returning to the interior of the valley, before it got dark and the somewhat toxic atmosphere of this industrial city condensed. It was the first shift, the administrative shift, that is, Julian’s, who quickly and anxiously after a quiet return, without concentrating too much on his trip, comes down from the station and at a steady pace – rather running – arriving at the Valle Millán sector; his town. She hurriedly opened the security gates and entered the house to tell everything to her son, who had already come home from school that afternoon. He had been resting in his bedroom for a couple of hours already, typing something on the computer they were all sharing at times, waiting for him to come in and lock the door, please. I have something very important to show you.
And Julian was again filled with dizzying ideas related to the girl in the subway and his son. He related everything in the chapter about the girl on the train with what Quimey was going to show him at that moment, sitting next to him very intrigued. In the middle of lying down, leaning on the back of the bed, the boy showed his father a short piece of writing on the computer, and said, «Look, I’m writing an e-mail… which is actually an experiment I wanted to do a long time ago. And I want your opinion. – Asking his father, «Do you remember what we were talking about this morning in the subway, I came up with an idea; it has to do with all those things. Read this and tell me what you think, please.»
And Julian begins to read what his son had written just a couple of hours ago, which was as follows:
«Hello, my name is Quimey, I am your father, grandfather and great-grandfather, great-great-grandfather, and great-great-grandfather, hopefully so, successively as far back in time as possible. I am writing to you from the year 2019, and I wanted to tell you (even though in the future I will no longer «be online» *-*), that I send my best regards to all of you and I hope you do not live in such an apocalyptic land as many say it will be. I here, in the present; I live in the city of Pueblo Marsella, in Valle Millan, with my parents and siblings who also send greetings. We are one big family and I wanted you to know that.
Well, I am writing to you to do an experiment, which I would love if you could help me with. I need you being my… how do you say, «offspring», to pass this email to your sons and daughters, and they to their sons and daughters, and so also grandchildren, great grandchildren of your great grandchildren etc., and so repeat it until many, many years in the future and make this greeting travel and keep it in the family. Do this and when some of you can travel back in time come and see us. Today, here it is October 15, 2019, and I will be next to my Father in the second car of the subway from Villa Marsella to Port Adalfken. At 08.30 a.m. I get off at Plaza Alma station. And just so you can locate us better, «here»; in the morning I dressed in school clothes and a red cap. I have big, clear blue eyes, and my dad is wearing his blue work uniform and a green scarf that my mom knitted for him. Well, it would be great if they could visit us to meet them and see what life is like later on. But since it is only an experiment, there is a possibility that you will never hear from us and we will never hear from you. You would be proud of our family. I have excellent grades and so does my sister, and we sacrifice a lot so that all of you have a good future».
«Important Note:
So you don’t get confused with reality, we are in a space-time where the sun is very, very white and not yellow. Where the rainbow has warm colors; yellow, red, and orange on top, not underneath or inside.
At the North Pole, there is a giant ocean of water, and only a few ice patches. And it’s not because it melted due to global warming; it’s been like this for hundreds of years on maps all over the world, making it impossible for «Santa» to have his home there.
Here, the «Panama Canal» runs from north to south and is located far from Central America; rather, below, facing Colombia, and it doesn’t run east to west like in other realities, centered in the middle of the Americas.
Japan here is not a lonely island in the Pacific at the level of Hawaii but is attached to Russia very far north, sharing its borders and islands.
The Mona Lisa by «da Vinci» (which in other realities is written «Davinci») has a veil and already laughs without hesitation. And in his other famous painting of «The Last Supper,» you will see that the tableware is of a metallic chrome «like taken from a space movie,» and the glasses are of a transparent glass that makes them not even visible, and they are not made in rustic shapes created by carpenters of the time because Jesus here was not only a carpenter but also a builder. And in that same painting; the golden chalice here was not painted near the left hand of Christ, it simply wasn’t painted, it doesn’t exist here.
There is another famous portrait; that of a fat king in an orange suit and white stockings (Henry VIII), where he doesn’t have a couple of pheasant feathers on his hat, nor does he hold a turkey leg in his right hand; here he holds leather gloves.
In sports, in this reality, the name of the greatest boxer of all time appears in all documents, magazines, and on TV written as Muhammad, not ‘Mohamed’. Michael Jordan didn’t make his iconic jump walking in the air with his legs spread out, despite there being a sports icon representing such a mythical dunk.
Regarding brands, on the label of the well-known clothing brand ‘Fruit of the Loom’, there has never been a cornucopia drawn behind the fruit in its logo, but rather the fruit presented very solitarily. The position of the star-shaped logo on Converse sneakers, in this reality and in all its versions without exception, shows this logo inside the ankles and has never been presented on the outside. In this reality, there is also no word ‘Coke’ in large red letters on the cola drink in the black can version. And in the detail of its logo, there has never been a cursive dash (~) in the middle of the name, but rather a square dot more at the height. Now that I think about it, it seems that dashes in this universe tend to disappear, as the same happens with ‘7-up’, ‘Kit-Kat’, and ‘Cola-Cao’.
Hmm, what else? Ah, Tutankhamun’s mask doesn’t have a cobra snake in the middle of the forehead, but rather it’s very misaligned and accompanied by a strange vulture, and it looks very strange.
The monocle man doesn’t wear a monocle, which is funny. And some names of people and things are not spelled as in other parallel lines. In these other lines, examples like: ‘William’ Dafoe, Luciano ‘Pavaroti’, Christopher ‘Reeves’, ‘Gary’ Grant, Jack ‘Palace’, Arnold ‘Schwarzenegger’ (with an intermediate ‘t’) and the spelling in brands like musical instruments ‘Honner’, batteries ‘Duracel’, cereals ‘Kellogg’s’, among many more…
Lastly, a great detail of this reality; if you check the bibles (of all times), you will find that here, in this universe, ‘the lamb lies with a wolf’, not with the lion.
Well, there are hundreds more references, but with this data, I think it will be enough for you to reach this ‘space-time’ line from where I’m writing to you and not get it wrong.
Sincerely, Quimey.»
(A few minutes of silence and shining eyes from Julian)
His heart had already accelerated with everything that had happened that day; he wanted it all to be just a strange coincidence.
He fell silent for incredible and unsettling seconds, while he read what his son had just written for the second time, more calmly and quietly. Until he unexpectedly released fluent words – «Hey son, you know what? You won’t believe it! You got off this morning, and a very strange girl got on a couple of minutes later, and she handed me this envelope and told me to thank you. That you were some kind of genius and that everything was going to be okay. And I have no idea who she was, all she did was that. She asked for you, gave me the envelope, and got off. Besides, she had big blue crystal-clear eyes very similar to yours.
They looked equally puzzled, not understanding anything, while both held the yellow envelope, about to solve the most crucial mystery of the day. «Go ahead! Open it!» Julian says, as they nervously smiled like children, looking at each other while Quimey decided to open the envelope slowly and carefully until they could see what peeked out: a not very wide stack of documents, a few letters, some photos, some drawings, and a book.
They slid the contents of the envelope into Quimey’s hands and began to look at them, and the surprise had already turned into astonishment because what they saw sent chills down their spines.
Firstly, a couple of photographs where precisely both of them appeared. The strange thing was that they didn’t recognize the photo, but it was of both of them; they could see themselves photographed there, but the moment lived was not. The photograph was very strange to them until paying attention to the details they saw, unconvinced, what it was. It showed the bedroom in which they were at that moment, the same objects, paintings, toys, cushions, and themselves very happy. Hugging and dressed in the same clothes they were wearing at that very moment.
Then, with a mix of amazement and a controlled degree of fear, Quimey took the yellowed and ancient time-printed paper, crumpled at its corners, and without hesitation began to read it, and it said…
«Hello, my name is Quimey, I am your father, grandfather, great-grandfather, great-great-grandfather, and most likely even further back, hopefully as far back as…»
It was the letter from the time experiment he had just written, and he hadn’t even sent it yet. They didn’t know what to think or do, Julian really just got excited to the point of tears, but for feelings he couldn’t even understand well. And now, he couldn’t ever get the vision of the girl out of his mind. Her face and her eyes, which now with disbelief he understood why they were so familiar and so similar to those of his son.
Other things came inside the envelope that they preferred to keep within their family.
There was only one thing to detail; that these words at some point had to have been written, but we will never know when, until this moment. Because inside the crumpled and yellow envelope, there was also this story you are reading; traveling with the girl with the blue crystal-clear eyes.
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