Dimension 111

By Rafael Arcaya Cruzado

It tells the story of a man destined to become the most powerful god of all universes (written in 1987, multiverse today) but who does not want to accept the job. Only problem? He does not have a choice.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 24, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503560192

Rafael Arcaya Cruzado

Rafael Arcaya Cruzado nació el 28 de febrero del 1945 en e1 pueblo de Mayagüez, Puerto Rico. Hizo sus estudios primarios en el Colegio Espíritu Santo en 1a ciudad de San Juan, hacia donde se había mudado con su padre, madre y dos hermanos er1 e] año 1949. Los estudios secundarios los realizó er1 la Escuela Superior de la Universidad en ei Barrio Rio Piedras de la ciudad capital. Los esmdios universitarios ocurrieron er1 la Universidad dei Estado de Puerto Rico, de donde se graduó en e1 año î968 con el grado de Bachillerato er1 Comercio. Trabajó para el gobierno de Puerto Rico desde 1972 hasta el 1988 para luego establecer su oficina de servicios profesionales en la valoración de propiedades, obteniendo su licencia del Departamento de Estado gubernamental. Estuvo Casado por más de treinta años con Awilda del Carmen Santoni Cordero, unión que procreó tres hijos, Hector, Sergio y Mariela. Enviado en el año 2,000 y mantiene su residencia y oficina en su pueblo natal.

Book preview

MAY 11, 1988

I NSIDE THE MOST luxurious discotheque in New York, the constantly pulsating lights above the dance floor offered a brief glimpse of the tumultuous crowd frantically dancing and shivering. A large quantity of tobacco and marijuana smoke made breathing oxygen difficult. The deafening sound of the huge speakers made the walls tremble, yet lovers and friends spoke softly to each other, giving the impression that they could communicate.

Dancing among the crowd was a man who was two meters tall, with abundant brown hair and a silky, clean brown beard; he was about thirty-five years old. With him was a tall, beautiful woman with long blonde hair who was about twenty-five years old. Their intense movements reflected in their eyes, and their impressive beauty and the fast rhythm at which they danced made their presence glow above the crowd.

It had been hours since they’d arrived, and the sweat on their bodies showed that fatigue was taking its toll. Her damp clothes showed her firm contours. Exhausted, they fell into each other’s arms and, with their eyes more than with their lips, whispered something only they were able to hear. Smiling and holding hands, they walked among the dancing crowd to friends awaiting them at one of the tables.

The man made a brief announcement, which his friends received with disappointment, but his look of authority made it clear he had made his decision. After some handshakes and kisses, the couple walked out the front door, under the gaze of the crowd. A chilly breeze welcomed them into the cold spring dawn, a deep contrast to the hot and humid discotheque interior.

Good grief! he exclaimed. How nice to breathe the pure air of the city!

She smiled at his comment and rushed into the waiting taxi.

I feel really tired today, he said once inside the car.

It’s rather strange hearing you admit you are tired, she replied.

I’m still not accustomed to keeping late hours, he explained. Especially when I’m forced to breathe tobacco and marijuana.

Oxygen was scarce in that place. And I’m afraid it means we’re not going to make a baby tonight.

Let’s try tomorrow. Tonight’s effort won’t produce a healthy kid, he said.

I’m not getting any younger, you know. And neither are you.

He became thoughtful as he analyzed her words. He leaned back and closed his eyes in the artificially hot air inside the automobile. She leaned on him, seeking additional warmth that she could not attain from her silk dress, which left most of her shoulders and breasts uncovered.

Waldorf was the only instruction he offered the driver, who waited patiently with the meter running.

He then cuddled his tired partner. The driver was barely able to keep his eyes on the road as he spied on the female passenger through the rearview mirror. The male passenger became aware of the driver’s attitude but did not seem offended by his lustfulness.

We’re going to have an accident if you don’t look ahead at least once in a while, he announced.

Startled, the driver returned his attention to the road, appearing tense and nervous at the realization that his thoughts had been discovered. The passenger tried to hide a smile. Suddenly, for an instant, an intense green light surrounded them. Concerned, he looked for the cause of the strange glow, but before he could catch a glimpse of it, the light disappeared. He looked at his partner, who was sound asleep, and asked the driver, Did you see that green light?

The driver stared back through the rearview mirror as if trying to determine if the question was being asked seriously. Confused, he said, Are you kidding me?

The passenger just smiled and tried to relax. The green light engulfed them once again. This time, the driver abruptly slowed down and, visibly disturbed, stared in disbelief. When the light again disappeared, the driver was the first one to comment.

It must have been a large neon light.

A large neon light I didn’t see, argued the passenger.

In silence, the driver pressed forward. Upon their arrival at the hotel, a bellboy immediately opened the back door, and the man emerged from the interior with the woman in his arms. They walked up the stairs into the receiving hall and directly into the waiting elevator as the young man ahead of them hurriedly removed all of the obstacles along the way. The hotel employee pressed the button for the eleventh floor, and the machine darted upward. When the doors opened, the green light was there to receive them.

For a moment, the two men stood there as if afraid to move, but when the guest took a step into the corridor, the bellhop dared to follow. He stumbled into the guests, who had suddenly stopped. Seemingly paralyzed, he stared down the corridor and discovered, in a mirror at the end of the hall, someone’s image being reflected—someone who was not among them.

The image appeared where the guest’s reflection should have been; the figure was assuming his posture, pretending he was carrying a heavy object in his arms. But the figure was someone of a smaller height who had lighter skin and advanced baldness and was somewhat overweight. Then the green light disappeared and, with it, the reflection in the mirror.

What’s going on here? the bellhop asked.

I don’t know, replied the guest, more to himself than to the bellhop. It’s still too early.

Then, leaving behind the somewhat baffled man, the guest walked into his room, still carrying the sleeping beauty in his arms.

Morning was breaking in Cayey, Puerto Rico, and the dawn’s early light was slipping through the windows of a house where a light-skinned, bald-headed man lay asleep. He slowly opened his eyes and stretched a little, seemingly at ease with himself, but gradually, his expression turned tense as he fixed his eyes on something he could not understand. He closed his eyes again, wiped them with his fists, and made a second effort. He blinked, again wiped his eyes, shook his head, and became apprehensive. He abruptly tried to get out of bed, but a stronger force made him grimace in pain and pulled him back to the bed.

For a moment, he just lay there, his eyes wide open, trying to remain in control of himself. Then, as if resigned, he again closed his eyes and remained motionless for a moment or two. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes, extended his right arm, and felt the night table by his side, looking for a place where he could brace himself to press his way up. He felt a pair of glasses, picked them up, stared at them in disbelief, and, after a few seconds, put them on. Now he studied his surroundings, giving the impression he remembers them. He discovered the woman sleeping by his side. His eyes and mouth opened wide in amazement as he made some kind of effort to comprehend something he should have forgotten.

He took a slow, deep breath; got to his feet; and, as if trying not to hurt himself, walked to the window and peeked outside at the tropical scenery that should not have been there. Turning around, he discovered a mirror. Seeing the image reflected in it, he walked like a zombie in front of it, stared deeply, and refused to accept what his eyes showed him.

I just awoke, he whispered to himself. How come I’m still dreaming?

He slowly walked outside the room into a corridor that had not been there the night before. He opened the first door to his right and peeked inside, discovering two young men still asleep in their beds. He walked to the next door to his left and discovered the bathroom. After walking to a third door, he stared at a young child still sleeping in her bed.

Is anything wrong? a female voice behind him asked in Spanish.

Slowly, the man turned around and faced the woman who, a moment ago, had been sleeping by his side; he remained silent.

Is anything wrong? she asked again.

He just stood there, staring at her, seemingly worried, as if trying to believe what was happening.

Is anything wrong? she asked, now losing her temper.

I don’t know, he finally replied. It’s still too early.

Minutes later, the man; the woman; the two teenage boys, Rafa and Manny; and the teenage girl, Helena, were having breakfast around the dining table.

This afternoon, we’ll be playing against the San Antonio Abad team, announced the eldest son.

Please, replied the mother, don’t be late.

Helena, said the other brother, pass me the sugar.

Has anybody seen my earrings? was her reply.

Aren’t you going to eat, Danny? the woman asked the man.

Reacting slowly, he looked at her and softly shook his head.

Aren’t you hungry?

No, he said quietly.

Mommy! the girl shouted. Rafa is teasing me.

If you aren’t going to have breakfast, the woman said to the man, then why don’t you go prepare yourself for work?

How do I do that? he asked.

She stared at him in disbelief and, ignoring his question, asked her own: Why don’t you go look for your things?

Because I don’t know where they are.

They are in their usual place.

The man looked around.

Mommy! the girl shouted again. Where’s my schoolbag?

What are you looking for? the woman asked.

The usual place, he replied as he stood up and moved irresolutely to an unknown place.

The woman could only look at him, unable to understand his attitude. He walked slowly to the first door to his left, opened it, looked inside, and rushed in. He walked to a cabinet where he saw two suitcases, one made of vinyl and the other of pressed carton. For a moment, he did not know what to do, but then he picked them up, one in each hand, and turned around to discover his family right behind him. He was about to make a statement, when the girl impetuously snatched the vinyl bag and abandoned the room in a hurry.

He put the other suitcase on top of a desk, opened it, and studied its interior, not knowing what he was looking for. Aware of being observed, he picked up a key ring and, looking casual, closed the case and kissed his wife.

Have a nice day, honey, he said.

Where do you think you’re going? she said.

He was already at the door when the question stopped him. He became thoughtful as his attention was drawn to two small lights atop the door that he figured would take him outside. One light was red, and the other was green; the first one was off, and the second was on.

Where am I going? he asked, still staring at the lights.

What the hell is the matter with you? she asked in desperation.

I could also ask myself that question.

Aren’t you supposed to take the children to school first?

Today is not a good day to make suppositions.

What are you talking about?

It’s very difficult to answer so many questions so early in the morning.

For a moment, she looked at him in confusion, and then, showing her frustration, she said, You must be crazy.

He considered her words before replying. I hadn’t thought about it, but now that you mention it, it’s quite possible.

Prepare your things for school, the mother told her children.

The man was slow to react; he started walking after his family and was the last to the dining room. There, everyone waited, expecting him to do something. He studied their faces and determined he was supposed to open the door at the other end of the room. Then he studied the key ring and discovered that it held more than twenty keys. Not knowing which one would open the door, he tried to determine which ones were not needed.

These are too big, these are too small, and these must belong to the car. So it can be any of these thirteen, he said aloud.

Turning to his family, he commented with humorous intentions, No wonder there are so many superstitious people.

Everyone just stared blankly at him. He then tried to open the door by putting the keys in the keyhole, but upon reaching the last option, the door was still locked. He tried another joke: Anybody in a hurry?

Abruptly, his daughter snatched the keys and opened the door on her first try.

Thanks, he said. Then he discovered the iron bars blocking the way. I hope there’s never a fire in the house, he said. Again, no one laughed.

Helena opened the gate and walked into a dark, open space.

I think we woke up too damn early, he commented.

But his daughter turned on a light, and he saw that they were inside the garage, with still another door to be opened.

As their father drove to school, the children stared in disbelief. He did not seem to know the way and constantly made wrong turns and took wrong roads.

The other way, Dad, the girl said. Don’t you know the way?

When they finally arrived, they saw their father looking intensely at some point in the school he did not seem to recognize.

What is it, Father? the eldest son asked.

What are those small lights atop the main entrance? he asked.

The son stared at the light and then at his father. Don’t you know?

The man remained silent, waiting for an answer. The young man became nervous and, for a moment, seemed afraid of his father.

Never mind, he said as he became aware of his son’s predicament.

After he left the children, he drove about one hundred meters away, parked off of the road, opened the briefcase, and searched for something—he did not know what. He stumbled into some papers that caught his attention, withdrew them, and studied them closely. He recognized his signature and the position he was supposed to occupy in an advertising agency: Daniel Amaya, assistant manager at Suara and Company, Associated Advertisers. He also found an address: Banco Popular Building, Suite 1501, Hato Rey, Puerto Rico.

He returned the documents to the briefcase and, after some hesitation, put the gear into drive and reluctantly resumed his journey. His pace was slow, and he felt insecure, stopping at every crossroad to look for something that might orient him. Ten minutes later, he seemed to recognize something, and with the assurance of one in the know, his driving became confident; he crossed various intersections, changed routes without second thoughts, and reached a two-level intersection, passing below the bridge onto Route 52. But as he entered what he remembered to be an expressway, he discovered a huge traffic jam, with cars barely inching their way ahead.

Seeing no cars behind him, he shifted into reverse, backed up to the last intersection he’d passed, made a right turn, and sped into an almost-empty road. He passed residences and commercial buildings, noticing two small lights atop the main entrance of each structure, the light green on and the red one off. He couldn’t recall any past experiences to explain their existences, so he put the thoughts away as he entered an abandoned area. All of the houses and buildings were empty; he saw no signs of the lights, no signs of life.

Along the winding road, the vegetation reclaimed every inch it could. He saw no travelers in either direction, so he concluded there must have been an obstruction somewhere ahead. But pushing his luck, he kept going. Ten minutes later, he saw the first human being, a man seemingly surprised, looking down at him intensely from the top of a hill. He then saw the man running desperately to the other side until he disappeared.

That was the last person he saw until Route 1 intersected again with Route 52. There, road conditions shifted; the expressway was more drivable. Still, it took him one hour to reach his destination and an additional half hour to find a place to park his car; he ended up parking one kilometer away from his office.

Daniel Amaya noticed a tense silence inside the elevator taking him to the fifteenth floor. Although the elevator was full, it seemed the passengers were making a conscious effort to avoid everybody else’s eyes, remaining silent. They looked straight ahead at all times, as if afraid to give away their presence.

He arrived at Suite 1501, where a young female receptionist with tinted and barely combed hair did not seem to notice his arrival.

Good morning, he said in a mellow voice that implied old acquaintance.

She wiggled slightly and kept reading a gossip magazine while chewing gum.

Can you tell me where my office is? he asked.

The young woman’s attention turned to him, and for the first time, she noticed a face without expression.

Don’t you remember? she asked.

Not really.

You were there yesterday, she reminded him.

He nodded a few times as he replied, I guess so. But today I feel as if I am in another world.

Too much to drink?

No, I guess it was the marijuana and tobacco.

Making the wrong assumption, she offered him the answer to his first question: The third door to your left.

Thanks, he said as he began walking.

Don’t forget today’s meeting at noon, she warned him.

He stopped and replied, I’ll try not to forget.

To neutralize the effects on sales by Crown Beer’s latest advertising campaign, said Mr. Jose Suara to his subordinates, I believe it would be a good idea to hire the same sexy model used by our competitor.

With the exception of Amaya, all of the other staff members seemed to agree, nodding continuously.

In our next Taíno Beer campaign, the model will announce that after tasting our product, she has changed her mind and now prefers Taíno Beer because it makes her feel sexy. Of course, she’ll say it in way implying that what she really feels is horny.

Amaya could not help smiling as his coworkers laughed, stood, and applauded Mr. Suara’s suggestions.

And taking advantage of the uproar the commercial is sure to produce, we’ll introduce our product’s new bottle, a Crown Beer copy. We have discovered it produces a reaction in the consumer, inducing them to buy the beer.

Again, Amaya’s coworkers stood and applauded vehemently. Only he remained seated, drawing his boss’s attention.

What’s wrong, Amaya? Don’t you like my idea? he asked.

In publicity terms, it’s a very good idea, he said, but I’m afraid it’ll run into hostile criticism from the advertisement world and feminist groups. The first ones will say it’s unethical to copy the bottling from another product and will say it is unethical to hire the same model to make fun of the competitor. It can also be construed as a violation of copyright laws. The second group will object the utilization of a woman as a sexual object.

Suara observed his employee in silence, seemingly finding it impossible to believe anyone would dare to object to any of his ideas. After a few tense seconds, he said, "In these days, Amaya, nobody really gives a damn about that bullshit feminist talk, which, as everybody knows, is led by prostitutes and alcoholic lesbians.

Secondly, that stupid opinion of yours, stating it is unethical to copy wrappings, makes me feel very disappointed. I thought you were a person of average intelligence. Everybody knows I’m well respected in society, so don’t give me that bullshit about ethics. Nobody’s going to believe that. So the issue here is that you owe me an apology.

Amaya stared, baffled at his superior. Then, seemingly uncomfortable and looking in the other direction, he said, Maybe I owe you an apology.

Not realizing his subordinate had not really apologized, Mr. Suara added, In relation to copyright violation, the issue was discussed with our lawyers, and you are not one of them. With the exception of minor lawsuits, which will cost our competitor lots of money, there’s nothing to be afraid of. The risks are minimal.

The risks will be minimal unless the Crown Beer people find out what we are up to and slap us with an injunction before we are able to put your idea into effect. Then we will be the one to lose lots of money, Amaya said.

Suara’s first reaction was bafflement, but a few seconds later, he could not help smiling. He asked, And who’s going to tell the Crown Beer people?

Anyone who doesn’t want to be involved in a violation of the law, Amaya said, seemingly as a warning.

This time, there was silence in the meeting room. Suara looked directly into Amaya’s eyes as he stared back. Everyone else stared at the floor as if unable to cope with the tension.

Since when are you so scrupulous, Mr. Amaya? Suara finally asked.

Amaya considered the question for a brief moment before replying, Since I came into this world.

Suara immediately replied, You’re going to be sorry, Mr. Amaya. You’re going to be sorry.

Only if I keep it on my conscience, Mr. Suara.

The company’s director stood up and furiously walked out the door, slamming it as he left, implying that the meeting was over. Amaya returned to his office with a premonition of what lay ahead, and when he received a dismissal letter attached to a liquidation check in the amount of $5,769.22, he was not surprised. He simply took from his desk all he assumed was his, put it inside a briefcase, and left in silence, walking through empty corridors to the elevator.

It was already past noon, and he still had not had breakfast, so he walked to the nearest cafeteria. As he entered, he noticed the little red and green lights at the top of the main entrance; the green one was on, and the red one was off. Once inside, he looked for the menu board and read its content.

Hamburgers………………………………………………..$150.00

Cheeseburgers……………………………………………….175.00

Additional salad……………………………………………..25.00

Hot dogs………………………………………………………100.00

Sandwiches

Ham and cheese75.00

Ham and egg…………………………………………………….100.00

Bacon and egg……………………………………………………110.00

Tuna………………………………………………………………….125.00

Refreshments

Naturals……………………………………………………………..90.00

Sodas………………………………………………………………….50.00

Amaya grimaced, but when he looked in his pocket, his amazement disappeared. He found he had more than $3,000. At that moment, a bar attendant came over to him and rudely asked, What do you want?

I’d like to know what happened to inflation, he said.

The man looked at him silently, unable to understand what he’d said.

I’d like a cheeseburger and Coke, please, Amaya said, giving the man an answer he could deal with.

After breakfast, Amaya walked among the crowded sidewalks to the bank, noticing the traffic jam on the streets. He entered the bank and discovered no other clients on the premises. He concluded that he would be able to cash the check immediately, but he had to wait more than five minutes in the express line before an annoyed young man, seemingly angry at him for interrupting his pleasant chat with a coworker, offered him his services.

A minute later, Amaya turned around to discover the bank occupied by people who silently slipped in, seemingly submissive and afraid. Slowly, he forced his way through the crowd, getting the impression they were consciously obstructing his way. Not able to find a justification, he pressed on and reached the main door.

This time, he did not notice the red light on.

Grumbles from the crowd made him look back, and he noticed expressions of anger, fright, and astonishment on their faces. For a few seconds, he stared back, trying to understand their attitude. After a moment, he turned around and walked out the door, only to discover desolated streets and sidewalks. Cars were visible; most had seemingly been parked in a hurry, some even with the engine on and the doors open, leaving only the middle lane open to nonexistent traffic.

For the first time, a sixth sense warned him of danger, but over his mind’s objections, he walked to the middle of the avenue, looking in each direction for an explanation. Then he saw a black convertible limousine moving away. In the backseat were three passengers; the one in the middle was wearing a three beaks cape. Amaya remained motionless, trying to grasp some meaning of the scene. Suddenly, right behind him, he heard the loud scream of a car’s horn demanding the right of way.

On his way home, he stopped to fill the gas tank. As he inserted the nozzle, he noticed the price marked at $43.999 per gallon. He simply closed his eyes and continued filling up the tank, but a minute later, he heard a scream and saw an old woman slowly collapsing. A young man in front of her watched as if in a trance, still holding a bloodied dagger in his left hand. In no hurry, the young man then walked away; everyone near him looked undisturbed.

Amaya threw the gasoline hose to the ground and desperately ran to her. With great effort, he lifted the woman from the ground, carried her to his car, placed her inside, and then started the engine and rushed forward, only to brake when a car unexpectedly crossed in front of him with the intent of being first to the pay window. But once ahead, the other seemed in no hurry as he paid the cashier.

Amaya got out of the car, ran to the pay window, deposited $500 on the tray, ran back to the car without waiting for the change, and stepped on the gas pedal, only to desperately break again as the driver in front of him accelerated to avoid being passed. Amaya drove ahead slowly, stopped at the exit, and looked casually in all directions before deciding which way to go. Amaya sped toward the nearest hospital.

He arrived at the emergency room with the woman in his arms, only to see no doctors or nurses around. He laid the woman on a stretcher and ran down the halls. When he saw a man dressed in green, he stepped in front of him and said, Doctor, please. He gasped for air. I brought a badly wounded woman needing your immediate attention.

I’ll be right over, the doctor said while calmly walking away.

‘Right over’ may be too late. She’s bleeding profusely.

I’ll be right over. I’ll be right over. The doctor kept walking the other way.

Amaya stepped in front of him, making it impossible for him to advance. You’re going the wrong way, he said.

Get out of my way, or I’ll call the police! screamed the doctor, becoming angry.

We don’t need the police, only a caring doctor.

Al! Don! the medic shouted.

Within seconds, two seemingly strong male nurses with menacing faces came out of nowhere and approached the arguing men.

Throw him out of here! the physician ordered.

Without waiting for further instructions, each one grabbed Amaya by the armpits, effortlessly lifted him from the floor, carried him to the door, and threw him down the stairs leading out of the hospital. He fell heavily on his back, shivering in pain. For ten minutes, he remained on the floor, unable to move, without drawing anybody’s attention. From the floor, he watched as a bloodstained stretcher with what appeared to be a body under a cover was taken out and left unattended at a side balcony.

When he was able to get up again, he walked in pain to his car and drove away; he did not stop until he reached his home. Upon arriving, he was forced to step out to open the garage door. Suddenly, he heard roaring engines up on a hill and turned to see about twenty young men on motorcycles, all looking in his direction. He did not pay attention; he kept walking to the gate, opened it, and returned to his car. Then he noticed the cyclists coming down the hill.

As he entered his car, he saw his wife frantically urging him to hurry up, but he reacted slowly, as if he did not understand her pleas. Once inside the garage, he barely had time to step out before she pulled him to the floor. An instant later, he heard a long, uninterrupted volley of what sounded like firecracker bursts, followed by uproarious engine noise. From the floor, he heard the sound of breaking glass and the whistling sound of tires deflating, and he felt small particles of dust on his head as he listened to the sound of small missiles banging the walls.

For what seemed a long time, he stayed on the floor, unable to move until all of the sounds vanished. For a few minutes, he only dared to raise his head and look around. Finally, he got up, looked around, and discovered a small disaster area. There were thousands of small holes in the walls, the windows of his car were shattered, all four tires were flat, and his wife was staring at him in disbelief.

What the hell is wrong with you today? she asked, barely controlling herself.

Amaya stared back in silence as she waited for answers until it became evident none were coming. Then, feeling dejected, she said, Let’s clean up this mess.

For the next twenty minutes, they did not speak. Amaya walked around the house, picking up the pieces and studying the bullet holes in the walls. Some bullets had entered the house, destroying a few more objects inside. At times, he would run into his wife only to see her angry expression. He was tempted to ask questions, if only to start a conversation, but she would become even more upset, so he remained silent. He could see that she, for some obscure reason, blamed him for what had happened. He sensed she would speak her mind anyway and was not surprised when she again asked him, What the hell is the matter with you today?

He remained silent, not knowing how to answer.

Why do you act so stupidly?

If I knew, I would probably not act stupidly, he said. Then, sensing this was the wrong answer, he tried to cover up. Who were those guys?

When he saw her reaction, he realized he had made another mistake, but it was too late to do anything about it.

You don’t know who those guys are? she asked in disbelief. Are you joking?

Through his mind, thousands of possible answers passed, but none could offer an appropriate response. She seemed to be waiting for an answer, as she stared in silence, but since he did not utter a word, she pressed on. What’s wrong with you today? You don’t know who those criminals are, you didn’t remember anything this morning, and I’m sure you don’t know how much this is going to cost us.

He looked at her for an instant before saying, If there’s one thing I don’t want to know, it’s how much this is going to cost.

What do you mean? She sensed trouble.

Prices have gone up so much in one day that I’ll need a computer to estimate the costs, he said in a hurry.

I think this is going to cost some months of your salary.

He turned around and went back to picking up the pieces without saying a word, but she was able to read his reaction.

Any problem today at the office? she asked.

He looked directly into her eyes and then looked meekly in the other direction before replying, Only one. I couldn’t figure out what was going on.

What does that mean?

I was fired.

Why were you fired?

For being too honest, I guess.

She kept staring in silence, apparently waiting for something. Why were you fired? she asked again, as if she had not heard him.

I told the boss his ideas were illegal, he explained.

I still don’t know why you were fired.

He looked around as if he’d find another explanation somewhere.

Where are we going to get money to repair all this? Where are we going to find money for ourselves and our children? she asked.

I’ll think of something.

You’re not paid to think! she shouted in frustration.

He remained silent, acknowledging that no explanation would satisfy her.

Unemployment is well over fifty percent. People are killing themselves for a job. You had to fight to keep yours. You had to break the law if necessary.

He remained silent, thinking she was overreacting but hoping she regained her composure. She kept staring at him as if unable to understand. Eventually, she gave up, went back to picking up the pieces, and tried to figure him out. She compared him to the man she had known yesterday and instinctively noticed a difference—a difference she could not explain but a warning he was not the same man. She felt his presence, and although she could not understand her own feelings, she foresaw the future—she foresaw danger.

That night, Daniel Amaya found himself unexpectedly invited for dinner to the house of one of the most prominent physicians in the community. They arrived before seven in the evening, driving a bullet-ridden automobile, and a well-dressed woman received them, reacting somewhat exaggeratedly. Daniel! Carmen! Come in! Come in! You don’t know how happy I am to see you! It’s only seven o’clock, but you never know.

Amaya waited for an opportunity to reciprocate, but the lady would not give him a chance.

I found out what happened today at your home. How horrible! How awful! Those Radamanthus’s savages! How is it possible that those kinds of things still occur in the twentieth century? What good are all these technological advances if people still act as savages?

The newcomers waited patiently for an opportunity to say something, but the hostess changed the subject abruptly while, with her hands, encouraging them to come in. Amaya and his wife went inside the impressive structure, which was heavily decorated with expensive furniture and ornaments.

What would you like to drink? the hostess asked only to add the options before they could reply. A little wine maybe? How about a little whiskey?

Before they could answer, Amaya saw two men approaching and, believing he had found an opportunity to escape from her presence, walked toward them and extended his right hand. He thought he recognized negative reactions, though their words seemed to indicate differently.

Good evening, Daniel, said the most dignified looking. How are you?

Fine, thank you, he answered.

Good evening, Daniel, said the other man. Nice to see you here.

Thanks.

I hope you didn’t have any more problems today, especially on your trip here, said the first man.

No problem, he said.

So how do you feel tonight?

I can’t complain, Amaya replied.

How sarcastic. The man seemed to force a smile. Today he was fired from his job, his house was turned to pieces, and he says he can’t complain.

Complaining won’t do me any good, Amaya explained.

Well—the man shrugged as he faked a smile—at least you won’t be able to fall down any farther once you hit the bottom.

Amaya remained silent, and the men walked away, leaving him somewhat confused. For the next hour, he noticed they did not seem to enjoy his presence and acted disdainfully whenever he approached. He sat near them when dinner was served, trying not to get into the conversation and limiting himself to short replies when addressed. But his host seemed to read his mind and directed his attention to him.

Your wife told us what happened, the host said. So I decided to invite you to have dinner with us. Maybe I could be of some help.

Well, you saved us a dinner, Amaya replied, expressionless.

The host waited for more explanation, but when none came, he asked, Do you need a job?

I need money, he said.

The host stared, waiting for him to say more, but since Amaya did not seem to notice, he asked, Do you intend to make an investment?

For the first time, Amaya sensed he was being harassed, and he limited his reply to one word: No.

The host again waited, only to receive silence. What do you intend to do with the money?

Amaya took his time before replying, I haven’t figured it out yet.

The host kept on staring, realizing his guest would not budge, and somewhat upset, he turned to the others. As they interacted, Amaya discovered his host was Dr. Emérito; his wife was named Luz; the other man was Attorney García, also a guest; and his wife was Julia.

Tell me, Daniel—how did the attack at your home occur? the doctor said.

It’s going to be somewhat difficult to explain. He reacted as if he had been expecting the question. I was on the floor most of the time.

Your wife told me you dared the cyclists, the doctor added.

I did not, Amaya said.

But your wife told me you looked at them, Emérito said, seemingly objecting. Or is she a liar?

Amaya took his time to reply. She’s a liar.

The doctor made a visible effort to understand what his guest had in mind. It took him several minutes to react; he smiled at Carmen, who seemed disheartened by her husband’s words.

Attorney García suddenly intervened as if trying to save the situation.

Did you know Don Carlo’s daughter was kidnapped by one of Radamanthus’s men? he asked no one in particular.

That makes thirty kidnappings this year, said Luz. She hurriedly took an a pencil and a small booklet out of her purse and made what seemed to be a fast count to confirm her previous statement. Yes, that’s right. Don Carlo’s daughter is the thirtieth abducted girl of the year.

Then she looked around, discovered all stares upon her, became nervous, hid the booklet and pencil back in her purse, bowed her head, and remained silent. Her friend Julia came to her rescue in what seemed to be an embarrassing moment and made her own appraisal: I don’t know what to think. Every day, things gets worse. I believe they are omens of things to come.

What do you think is going to happen? Emérito asked.

I think a great catastrophe is going to occur, she immediately replied.

How did you arrive at that conclusion? the doctor asked.

Never in history have two beings with demonic powers appeared at the same time. I think Minos and Radamanthus are two devils God has permitted to reach this world as a warning. He’s warning us his patience is running thin. These devils represent evil at its worst manifestation, and then God will intervene and put an end to all human and superhuman evil.

How will God intervene?

God will punish us all, replied Julia.

Will he punish just and sinners alike? asked Emérito with an exaggerated gesture.

She then became nervous and meekly replied, All I know is he will do something.

There was a moment of tense silence before Emérito’s wife expressed her opinion: I think the end of the world is near.

And how did you arrive at that conclusion, dear? the doctor asked with a certain sarcasm.

It’s logical, she said.

The end of the world is humanity’s oldest prediction, Emérito announced. It is clear evidence that many members of the human race desire self-destruction. Sometimes I’m under the impression they yearn for it. Don’t you think the same, Daniel?

Amaya took another moment to reply. He looked at the host and seemed thoughtful. I don’t have enough information to arrive at a reasonable conclusion.

You don’t have enough information to arrive at a reasonable conclusion? repeated Emérito. And then what do you think of Minos and Radamanthus?

I don’t know what to think of them, he immediately replied.

I bet you simply don’t know how to think at all, commented the host, seemingly upset.

Amaya kept silent, giving the impression he did not want to confront his inquisitor and hoping the doctor would turn his attention on someone else. The doctor’s next comment made him think his wishes had been granted.

As for me, I think humans shouldn’t wait for God to give us the solution to problems entirely our own, and neither do I believe these two strange beings are omens to anything. I believe we must find our own solutions, a way to kill these beasts. I don’t believe they are really immortal.

But what about their immunities to bullets? said a bewildered Attorney García.

The fact that they are immune to bullets doesn’t prove they are immortal. Don’t you agree, Daniel?

Amaya, interested in the conversation, stared wide-eyed, making an effort to understand what was being said. The question took him by surprise, but he managed to react as if he had been expecting it.

It’ll take them forever to prove they are immortal.

Very good, Daniel! Very good! exclaimed Emérito in sincere approval. I couldn’t have said it better myself.

Everyone seemed to expect something else from the guest, but he remained silent as if trying to deviate all attention from him. The host sensed his predicament and pressured him further.

Don’t you believe in the immortality of Minos and Radamanthus?

Amaya turned his eyes to him but remained silent.

Are you there? the doctor asked, as if believing his guest’s mind was not focused on the subject.

Yes, he said.

Do you think Minos and Radamanthus are really immortal? Emérito asked again.

I suppose not.

Can you only make a supposition?

I’m afraid so.

Why?

Amaya looked at the host without uttering a word, but he still managed to give the inquisitor the right impression.

You don’t know what we are talking about.

Amaya did not utter a word, but Emérito went for the kill. Where have you been all this time? In another world?

In another dimension, I think, he finally said.

You are even more ignorant than you pretend, said the doctor, visibly angered. And that’s saying a lot.

Amaya stood and announced, I can’t say it was a pleasure coming here tonight, but I’ll try to make it up with the farewell.

He walked to his wife and stood behind her, waiting for her to stand up.

Where do you think you’re going? Emérito asked as he also stood up.

The time has come for us to leave, Amaya replied.

In case you don’t know, it’s past nine o’clock.

Amaya stared intensely at him, trying to determine the implication of the host’s words, but nothing came to his mind.

Sit down! shouted the doctor.

Please, Danny, begged Carmen.

He looked at her and hesitated, confused, but in the end, he returned to his chair.

I may have been wrong about you, Daniel, the doctor said, seemingly to initiate an apology. You may not be as stupid as I thought.

Amaya ignored the comment, staring at his plate. He became engulfed in his own thoughts and drifted away from the conversation.

Do you believe Minos and Radamanthus are immortal? He thought he heard Emérito’s voice.

Incredulously, he looked at the doctor as if trying to confirm his impression, and he saw Emérito waiting for him. For a moment, they stared at each other until the doctor repeated the same question: Do you believe Minos and Radamanthus are immortal?

Amaya opened his mouth, and slowly, words came out. Who are Minos and Radamanthus? He immediately sensed a negative reaction and felt defenseless.

If that’s your idea of a joke, the host said, almost exploding, I think it’s not funny.

I’m sorry, said Amaya, not knowing why he was apologizing.

Just because you say you’re sorry, don’t expect any sympathy from me! Emérito shouted.

Once again, Amaya got to his feet and walked to his wife. I really don’t see any reason why I should stay here any longer, he announced.

It’ past nine o’clock.

This time, the guest did not hide his ignorance. That’s supposed to mean something.

And of course, you don’t know what it is.

No.

You don’t get tired of trying to make a fool out of me, do you?

Amaya ignored the question and looked at his wife, implying his request. We gotta go.

But she remained seated. He stared at her, trying to look assertive, but she didn’t seem to read his expression. He saw Emérito walking his way but did nothing.

Sit down! the doctor yelled, and he pushed Amaya back to his seat.

The guest’s mind was still looking for a the way to convince his wife she must follow him, and he never saw Emérito throw a punch at him; he only felt a sudden numbness in his mouth and fell down onto his back. He immediately got up.

Sit down! shouted Emérito again.

But Amaya stood his ground, looking directly into his eyes. His action only served to incite his opponent, who furiously attacked. The guest saw the first punch coming and thought he could avoid it by backing away, but the reflexes he thought were there didn’t respond, and he got hit again.

That punch would have been more than enough to put an end to the little resistance Amaya offered, but an uncontrollable Emérito kicked the fallen man until García grabbed him from behind. Even as García pulled him back, the doctor screamed as if trying to give an explanation for his bewildering actions, an explanation his victim would not have been able to understand even if he were still conscious.

I saved his life! I saved his life! That son of a bitch will have to thank me for it! If it weren’t for me, they would have killed him! He’s going to thank me for it!

MAY 12

T HE YEAR IS ONE.

What can we do for you? the president of the United States, Jonathan Taylor, asked from behind his desk.

Kenneth Rosefeld, the defense secretary, hesitated before replying, General John Hawk here is better informed, so I think he should be the one to answer your question, Mr. President.

Taylor stared suspiciously at the general and hesitated before conceding. Then you explain, General.

Slowly, the Joint Chief of Staff got to his feet and looked at the audience in the Oval Office: Secretary of State Henry Dey; Attorney General Gerald Newman; and another Pentagon general, Raymond Crafty.

It’s really no new situation, he finally announced. In fact, it’s the same situation that has been nagging this great nation of ours for decades now.

For a moment, the president thought he was a victim of Hawk’s usual outrageous lack of manners, but deciding to avoid another confrontation, he let him finish.

It’s the same Soviet menace that, for decades, has been brewing at the Kremlin, and despite our warnings, it has come to its most critical point.

Hawk stopped and observed his audience; he remained silent for a moment until some became nervous. Then the general continued. "But first, let us recall some of the events that put us at a breaking point. The first Salt Treaty had the noble purpose of controlling the proliferation of the nuclear arsenals. With that treaty, both parties pretended to save humankind from a nuclear catastrophe.

"How that was going to be achieved is anybody’s guess. By then, the Soviet Union and the United States had enough nuclear warheads to destroy civilization many times over. Still, our nation complied with the pact. Not so the Soviets, who secretly were able to catch up in nuclear capability.

"Our strategic military superiority disappeared with that pact since they interpreted it to their convenience, and what they couldn’t obtain through interpretation, they obtained through straight cheating. Still, the governments of Kennedy, Johnson, Nixon, and Agnew continued signing treaties, so the Russians could leave us far behind.

Let’s take a look at the electronic map we brought to illustrate my point.

The general walked to the center of the room, where a large screen had been set up, and after he pressed a few bottoms, the configuration of continents and islands forming Earth appeared. The map showed several hundred small red and white lights, mostly distributed over the United States and the Soviet Union.

As you know, said Hawk, the small red lights represent the approximate locations of Soviet nuclear warheads, while the white ones represent ours. As you can see, there are two times as many reds. How in the hell could that happen? he asked rhetorically.

The treaties, he immediately answered. "The treaties whose purpose was to control the proliferation of nuclear warheads wound up controlling only the proliferation of the American nuclear arsenal. Not the Soviets’. Only the Americans’.

"They always managed to interpret all stipulations to their convenience, and they also knew how to violate them to the point of making them worthless. By doing so, they obtained all the advantages they wanted and, seemingly as innocent as always, came back looking for new treaties—and we were always stupid enough to give them another one.

"When they violated the treaties, they always knew how far they could go without provoking us; they always knew when to stop, how to obtain advantage.

"Now it happens that if they wanted to, they could launch a massive nuclear attack against our bases and cities. If they wanted it to, their attack could destroy our offensive capabilities almost completely. If they wanted it to, their attack could destroy eighty percent of our nuclear counterattack weapons, ninety percent of our intelligence units, and almost all of Strategic Air Command, and more than one hundred million of our people would be killed in their first strike alone.

Our counterstrike would destroy only five percent of their military capability and maybe five million of their inhabitants. With their present advantage, they could force us into new treaties, could force us to take positions we voluntarily would have never taken. Those new treaties would make us even weaker.

Hawk again became silent, this time to watch the somber expressions of his audience. It seemed nobody dared to ask questions or make comments; they only listened in silence, recognizing the implications of what Hawk had said.

Gentlemen, added the general so softly that everyone had to make an effort to hear him, that’s not the worst part. The worst part is that the Communists want to launch the damn attack; they want to destroy our bases, our cities, our people.

Then, raising the volume of his voice, he added, What’s even worse is that they’re going to do it!

Then the general stared at his audience and, rather theatrically, waited for a reaction. The president could not hide his nervousness, the secretary of state looked somber, and the attorney general did not seem to believe what he had just heard. The defense secretary and General Crafty looked straight ahead, expressionless.

How do you know that? Taylor finally asked.

Hawk walked back to his seat, giving the impression he was not interested in answering the question. Without looking at his commander in chief, he took some documents out of his briefcase, walked to the president, and contemptuously threw them onto Taylor’s desk.

That study was made by the Pentagon and Central Intelligence Agency. Their conclusion is that the USSR government intends to launch a massive nuclear attack on the United States within the next few days.

Taylor’s hands trembled as he picked up the documents; he was seemingly afraid of their content. He looked around and discovered everyone watching him. Then Dey grabbed the documents and read the content as fast as he could, but he was not able to understand its meaning.

Rudely, Hawk broke the intense silence, displeased with what he saw.

"For decades now, we’ve been playing war games with the Russians, analyzing their strengths and weaknesses and moving our warheads to our most advantageous positions. But for decades, too, we’ve been losing the great superiority we once had. Our war games have become more defensive. In fact, we’ve become so defensive that we only strive for survival or, at the very best, nuclear counterattack capability that will also destroy the enemy.

"But those treaties have made the task more difficult, and the last treaty, signed just two years ago, has made it now impossible. We’ve become defensive; all our weapons have been placed for one final counterattack, but now, even that is a waste of time. We’re defenseless. They now own more than eighty first-strike combinations that will destroy at least eighty percent of our weapons. They outnumber us two to one, and their missiles are faster and more accurate than ours.

"We are dead meat—overcooked—unless we take the necessary measures to correct that situation. And those measures must be drastic and must be taken immediately; we must be ready and eager to take one last big chance if we’re going to survive.

In fact, there’s only one measure to take, only one step to avoid total annihilation, only one answer to correct what has been created by wrong decisions.

Are you suggesting we are responsible for this situation? Dey asked.

You were the one to sign the last treaty, the one conceding the Russians the advantage they needed to exterminate us. But they also know you won’t be reelected; they know our next government will be stronger and more competent. They know an opportunity like this will never repeat itself, so therefore, they must and will attack now, before the elections.

We’ll never solve our problems with recriminations, General, Kenneth Rosefeld said.

But it is true, insisted Hawk. This clown has permitted the Soviets to put the dagger to our throats.

That’s enough, General. The defense secretary was upset. The problem here is how we are going to deal with this situation. So if you have a solution, please let us know.

Hawk stared at the secretary, doubting his attitude, and then looked at the president and his aides, Dey and Newman. The first one looked furious, and the other looked attentive. Then, after some hesitation, he announced, "There’s only one solution to this problem—a problem not only created by the incompetence of this government but also intensified by years of poor trade of technology interchange with the Russians. We sold our best computers to our enemy, buying nothing in return—a technology trade good for our trade balance but very bad for our military interests.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, our intelligence system was utilized for purposes other than its true purpose and not in the best interest and security of this nation. That is true of the CIA, the Secret Service, the Strategic Air Command, and even Compute One.

You’ve digressed enough, General, said Rosefeld. Stick to the point. Simply tell us your recommendations.

They’re not my recommendations, Mr. Secretary, Hawk replied. They’re the recommendations of military experts who unanimously decided we only have one option to get out of the mess this government put us into.

To the point, General! Rosefeld shouted.

Hawk took his time before answering. There’s only one thing we can do, he finally announced. We must attack first.

Even though clouds covered most of the sky, it was another hot day in Jerusalem. The wind blowing from the south was too hot to offer relief. In fact, the wind’s effect was counterproductive, since it raised the desert’s dust and forced the people to sustain the thousand-year tradition of covering their bodies with more clothes. The streets near the center of the city were full of people who, as part of their daily routines, searched among hundreds of merchants for goods to satisfy their needs and fancies. But so many people within the limited space produced an intense hubbub accentuated by the voices of the merchants who tried to call for their attention.

The clouds drifted apart, allowing a human shadow to project itself over the people, gradually silencing their voices. People looked up to the sky and found it difficult to comprehend what they saw, since behind the shadow, the sun’s light was intense.

Slowly, silence took over until everyone was staring at the figure in the sky. Many tried in vain to understand what their eyes saw—it looked like a man dressed in a brown-and-gold-striped cassock, with brown hair extending to his shoulders and a dense brown beard. As he hovered over the awestruck people staring from below, anxiety and fear made it impossible for them to distinguish his lineaments.

What stirred their emotions was not the man but his feat. He levitated, maintaining his position in the sky without help from a machine or any other visible object that could have explained his power over nature. However, it would be his message that would change the destiny of their lives.

The tense silence suffocating the streets was broken by the power of the voice of the being descending from the skies. His voice could be heard for kilometers around, adding fear and tension to the ones near it.

The day of man has arrived, he thundered. Again, and for the last time, his faith will be tested. But afterward, there will be no time to repent; afterward, there will be no time for tears. Because I, Yahweh, your one true God, the most powerful god of this and all other universes, will punish with eternal death the nonbeliever and idolater and will give in inheritance my world to all those who follow me.

Immediately, almost everyone fell to his or her knees, and those who did not would not have been able to explain why they remained on their feet. They simply were too terrified to understand what they saw and heard.

Repent, and follow me, ordered the one who came from heaven. "Or persist in your ways and forever die. He who hears me, he who obeys me, he who follows me will inherit a new world in my new kingdom.

So orders Yahweh, your God, the most powerful god of this and all other universes. Because the day of man is near, his days are numbered; his end is near. Today is the first day of Armageddon. These are the last days of the apocalypse.

In reality, Supreme Chancellor Apollo said to himself, I’m meditating on meditation.

The maximum sovereign of the planet Trafamaldor, located more than two hundred million light-years from Earth, knew his reasoning was somewhat paradoxical. Worried by something he could feel but not explain, he tried to console himself by meditating on his beliefs.

I’ve nothing to worry about. Under normal conditions, I’m immortal. Very few things can harm me, and almost all of them reside outside this universe. I may be wasting too much time in this more often meditation sessions, but this time is what I have the most.

Though he sought comfort in his words,