Anamnesis by Zorina Alliata (ebook reader ink txt) 📕

just seemed like they didn’t even try.

Inside the farmhouse, Dante and Bea were holding hands, sitting in front of the fire. The farmer I had spotted with my binoculars was there too, tidying up the kitchen. We immediately felt each other as different and he looked at me suspiciously. But Dante came and hugged me, and the farmer lowered his icy eyes.

“So, what’s up?” I asked cheerfully, joining them on the couch.

Dante and Bea started unraveling their story, talking at the same time, finishing each other’s sentences. I listened carefully, but mostly watched the strange equations hanging in the room, especially above an old icon on the wall. Dante’s problems were deep, but I didn’t see a bad ending; I actually saw the lines of his future, smooth and lucky; he was going to be okay and happy, and live a very long life, and learn how to help others.

“I don’t know if I can help you,” I said when he finished. “I never met your father.”

“You don’t even believe that he exists,” the farmer blurted out suddenly.

“Shut up, Peter,” Saccas said loudly. “The girl is here to help. She doesn’t have to believe.”

“He can’t be found by a dmk,” the farmer continued, anger taking over his voice.

I knew the old Aramaic word. A chill went down my spine. How could he tell I was not part of this world, that I was not supposed to be there.

Saccas took the farmer by the shoulders and into another room. “He’s crazy,” Dante whispered to me, winking. “He told me my Dad is the man in that old icon. But that’s an image of Jesus.”

“Ah,” I said. “Okay then.”

Around the room, the numbers started to smell of lavender; for the first time they made sense, aligning in what was obvious from the beginning, only I could not see it. Somehow, I was in the presence of the divine; of the mysteries that had escaped me for so long. God wasn’t there in that moment, but I could see that He had been there many times, traces of his moonlight steps all around; I peeked at the icon and saw a tender face looking back at me, ready to forgive me for sins I could not recall. I viscerally refused its generosity, still stubborn, and yet it didn’t turn away from me.

The mystery of Dante’s past was now solved; his genuine kindness and naiveté, his ability to ignite love at first sight in men and women alike.

I got up and walked to the next room, where Saccas was whispering to the farmer; they looked up at me.

“Would he have what I’m looking for?” I asked directly. “If you think that he does, then I’ll help you find him.”

“What are you looking for?” Saccas asked.

“I need to breed,” I said simply. “I can’t let my gifts and my knowledge disappear with me.”

“Forgive her, God,” the farmer prayed passionately, his eyes raised to Heaven.

“We’re still here on Earth, and you are stuck with me,” I said. “I can help you, but can He help me?”

Saccas thought about it for a while. “He can fix anything, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said finally.

“But He won’t just do everything that we stupid people ask him to do,” the farmer said. “You can’t just ask Him to fix a broken shower. He’s not your servant.”

“I realize that,” I said. “But I will find and save Him, and bring His son back to him. That should count for something. All I’m asking for is that He answers to one prayer.”

“We can’t guarantee anything,” Saccas said. “His decisions are not ours to understand. But we can promise that we will put in a good word for you.”

I knew he was not lying; he was incapable of it. “How about you, Peter?” I asked the farmer. “Are you on board with this?”

“It’s an abnormality, a mistake,” he complained.

“So was His marriage to Dante’s mother,” I answered dryly, “and maybe his whole decision to keep living here with us. We all make mistakes. He knows human flaws, he has a few himself since He is half human after all.”

The farmer looked puzzled, then nodded. “If you find Him, I will be grateful to you, whatever you are,” he said. “That’s my promise.”

“All right,” I said. “Now we can all go back and start our investigation.”

Back in the large kitchen, I sat down and took control of the room. “Everybody quiet down and let me concentrate,” I said. “Does He really look like that icon?” I asked the farmer.

“Of course,” the farmer said.

I closed my eyes and delved into the anamnesis; strong, icy and hot shivers crossed my veins, as I was pouring through billions of painful and happy memories. I was following a yellow path I had imagined for myself, across beaches and cities, forests and skyscrapers. His face was hovering above me, gently directing me, until I found a dead janitor from the Company. I stopped, confused. The janitor had died a year ago.

“Did you guys ever met a janitor named Jim Alba at the Company?” I asked Dante and Bea, who were looking at me fascinated.

“Are you talking to the dead?” Bea asked with a small voice.

“Yes,” I answered, “yes, I am. Now, did any of you know Jim?”

“Jim is not dead,” Dante said suddenly. “I know Jim, he was friends with Eric. We chat sometimes. He came into my cube just a few days ago, and we talked about why dust bunnies are called dust bunnies. He’s very much alive.”

“You must be confused, honey,” Bea said. “I remember distinctly that Jim died last year because they brought him to me and he was in such bad shape, I had to call Dr. Maygny. Then I heard that he died. They had an investigation and everything. I was even invited to the funeral by his sister, whom I met when she came to the Company to pick up some paperwork.”

“Okay, people,” Dante threw his hands in the air. “I know Jim, and I know that he works every day from 6:00 AM to 12:00 PM, and he says he never missed a day of work in his life.”

Saccas and I looked at our watches in the same time. It was 11:30 in the morning.

“Let’s go,” I told Saccas.

We left, just the two of us, after getting a description from Dante and Bea. Jim Alba was a very old Hispanic man with a slow and polite manner; he liked to light a cigarette every time he left the building after work, and smoke it in the back of the building. That’s where we waited; at 12:00 PM sharp, Jim appeared. Saccas and I looked at each other. None of us had really believed Dante; after all, he had an imaginary friend named Eric.

“Jim?” I asked smiling, approaching him. “How are you?”

“Okay, dear, I’m okay,” he said, trying to light his cigarette with shaky hands.

“Here, let me help you,” I said. I held the lighter steady until he puffed the first smoke.

“So Jim,” I said, “how are things back home in Xela?”

He looked surprised but smiled, like I brought up a good memory. He was probably used to chit-chat with employees all the time and figured I was simply one on his cleaning route.

“Bien, bien,” he said. “All is good back home.”

“Maria okay after that accident? How old is she now?” I asked, digging through the memories left behind by Jim Alba when he died.

He started to panic visibly. “Who are you, Miss?” he asked. “I don’t remember telling you about my poor cousin Maria.”

“Well, Jim,” I said, “just tell me this: Am I crazy, or do I remember being at your funeral last year?”

He turned his back and started to walk away, but Saccas and I easily caught up with him. “Tell me what happened, Jim,” I said. “I know you’re dead, how come you’re wandering around cleaning toilets?”

He didn’t say anything, but drops of sweat appeared around his temples. “I’m not dead,” he muttered. “I’m not dead. I died but they saved me.”

“Who saved you, Jim?” I asked.

“The doctors,” he said and pointed vaguely towards the Company’s building.

“Which ones?” I asked. “Tell me their names, Jim, or I’ll haunt you every day and every night.”

“Please, Miss,” he said. “It was Dr. Maygny, at the Institute across the street, 20th Floor,” he said, and I let up following him.

“You know,” he said turning back to me, “you don’t have to haunt me. I have nightmares all night. They sweep me in, the dreams. They call me.”

“That’s because you belong there, Jim,” I said. “I hope you get there soon. I’m sorry for your troubles.”

He shrugged and left. “All right, Mr. Saccas,” I said cheerfully, “we have a lead. What do you say?”

“You are truly gifted,” he said, smiling. "I bet Dr. Maygny has the evil sign on his forehead; to bring up bodies from the Dead is to fight both Nature and God… Who knows what else he is up to. So, shall we go back to our hiding place and hatch a plan? I will try and make some phone calls, and come back at night when no civilians are around.”

“You do that,” I said. “I have to go home. My parents will die today. Call me later and tell me where and when to meet you tonight.”

He looked at me, surprised yet again. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s okay,” I said. “They lived a very long time. Good-bye, Mr. Saccas.”

“You can call me Paul,” he said warmly, shaking my hand. “I will pray for them.”

“Thank you,” I said, and it felt like a small relief.


CANTO X


Ever since I can remember, there was something on the horizon that attracted me; sometimes I would catch a glimpse of it – a subtle mist, moving, changing shape with ease; it had no numbers anywhere near it; in fact, I saw it dissolving patterns and eating its way through established equations if it so pleased. I always knew that that was where I wanted to be; that that was where I was supposed to be; and if I went there, things in Nature would be balanced again, as they should be.

I had studied Death for a long time; I wrote scenarios and found temporary explanations, only to discover that there was more to it than I had thought. It was a natural law and so it could be bent ; however, everyone in my family had agreed that you could only fool it for a long time, but not make it disappear. I identified with Death many years ago; in a way, I was a part of it once, and was then mistakenly brought back to the other side; I almost remember that I was happy there. I sometimes think I was a free spirit there, flying around in cheerful circles, with no numbers to hold me down, and then my aunt worked out her spell, and they caught me and brought me back here, in this prison of flesh and pain.
I was not meant to be alive;