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A.R.Yngve

DARC AGES
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David Archibald / Darc

Chapter 5


David thought his new epithet "Darc" sounded a bit silly.

But he accepted it as a courtesy to his hosts. After all, had they not saved his life? He promised himself to donate a handsome amount of his stock portfolio to Bor Damon -- as soon as he got in touch with the Rocke Foundation, which had administered his company during his long absence. Was there a chance, he asked himself, that Dr. Takenaka had also had himself frozen with his own method? David could thank him, they might both get to meet his children...

Christ, the kids! Eileen and Powers had to be at least in their fifties by now -- older than himself! But he must not rush ahead of himself -- he was here in Bor's estate to relax, restore his former self. Was it really only a month since they thawed him out? David had been well treated by the servants. And the translator Librian had improved his broken English a lot since they met -- a funny old geezer, treating David almost with the respect of a king. He had brought David some very, very brittle books to read -- "Gulliver's Travels" and Adam Smith's "The Wealth Of Nations" -- but someone had torn out the year of printing. Odd. What year was it anyway?

David quit his brooding and sat up from the wooden wheelchair, supporting himself on a walking-stick. He walked through his spacious room -- it was furnished with heavy oak furniture and colorful painted tapestries -- out onto the stone balcony. David breathed in the clean air, savoring the scents of spring. So much cleaner the air was in the future, unlike the stink of London or Brussels!

From his viewpoint at the eastern wing of Bor's mighty castle, David could overlook the entire town below. It stretched out at least two kilometers away in all directions, surrounded by the sloping, twenty-meter-high circular wall that ran unbroken along its rim. The town itself consisted mostly of a maze of narrow streets, and old three-story houses with sloping tiled roofs and large, well-kept back gardens. Several houses also had gardens growing on the very rooftops. The brick walls of the houses were just being re-painted in celebration of spring; a bright mosaic of red, white, and blue patterns was replacing the pale colors of yesteryear.

David looked down the smooth, round, sloping concrete walls of Bor's fortress. A beautiful walled park surrounded the castle at the center of the village, where men and women strolled about -- hanging up loads of clothes and linen to dry, dancing and playing, singing, listening to the flutes and strings which even David could hear from his balcony high above. He tried waving at a woman below -- she saw him and waved back, urging her friends to do the same.

"Hi there!" David shouted cheerfully, waving for a while; his arm soon got too tired to continue.

He leaned out to the north, trying to get a glimpse of the huge church which lay on the west side. But the castle hid the sight of the oval cathedral and its exotic, ornamented spires. David gave up the attempt, and made a mental note: Ask Bor to go to church for Mass as soon as you are strong enough to walk outside the castle. I got to get a closer look at those strange church ornaments -- there's something familiar about them, if only I could remember what?

Then he raised his gaze to the streets outside the park. There was much movement of people; the distant clatter of electrically powered carriages rolled across the cobblestone paving. He also saw a few horses and some cattle. No smoke rose from the chimneys; there was obviously a central power plant located somewhere below the city. And behind his range of sight, he knew, there were the enclosed fields of soybeans and potatoes which, according to Librian, bore harvest four times a year.

And beyond the city walls -- the blue haze made it hard to discern the details of the landscape, but it was obviously a wide valley with very few trees, and heavily eroded hills. Something far to the south might be another city... Madrivalo of North Castilia, they called this land. Picturesque, thought David, how provincial-minded these future people seem -- they don't react much to the word "Spain" at all. And they look like a mix of all the world's races too -- Bor Damon and his family are the spitting image of Irishmen or Scots. But of course, he assured himself, I should have known -- in such a peaceful world as this, who cares about national borders?

A river glittered in the distance to the east. Lush forests grew along its edges -- but no signs of cultivation or plowed fields -- nor a single boat in sight. A single bird flew by, far away. The only bird David had seen today. There were no pigeons to be seen in the city, almost as if they had been... exterminated. No, that was impossible.

David tapped his fingers against the parapet. As his health improved, his limbs tingled with restlessness. He had so much to do, and he was tired of the damned walking-stick. He dropped the stick, took a few uncertain steps -- and laughed as he found he didn't need it anymore. Bor and Librian were going to be surprised at his quick recovery! He heard a knock at the door inside, and stumbled to the room's only mirror to check his appearance.

He looked into the tall mirror. The man in the reflection was lean and tall, but not thin. His thick, bushy hair and eyebrows were still prematurely white -- a maid had offered to dye them in their original hue, but David had refused such vanity. His sharp face and it's Caesaresque nose had remained the same, though. The tanned skin was crisper and had acquired a few wrinkles around the eyes and mouth, but was vigorous enough. His green eyes had not lost their almost wickedly playful sparkle, and his front teeth were all in place -- and white. He felt great, he told himself, and ready to take on the world.

David adjusted the soft, stuffed high collar of his modest brown jacket -- he wore the tight-fitting, bright synthetic pants of the nobility, though he'd rather prefer a pair of comfy slacks -- and brushed off his leather shoes. There was a new knocking at the door, more anxious this time.

"When in Rome, do as the Romans," he said to his image in the mirror.

Humming the old Popeye tune, David went over to the door and opened it.