Now that I’ve slept for the
first time in years, I am feeling a little less fatigued in my muscles. She
went off to her distant palace within the ground again this morning and has not
responded to my shrieks of occupation. So, I let it go, and I walk northward. I
am somewhere along the Alps in France, and to tell you, reader, they are
magnificent; more so, because there aren’t any human beings around the place.
That is the case at every single place that I have been after The Folly. The
streets of India have turned out to be the single most tragic place I’ve been
to. The charm of the boulevards in India used to be the sheer number of human
beings roaming around and scuttling to their callings; the colour of India, the
nuances of the visible spectrum, just gone, “POOF!” just gone like a drop in an
ocean. Ignore that, and you have with yourselves the most beautiful
anthropogenic place on God’s own earth.
That reminds me- “God?”
Well not exactly, He does
not exist for me, nor does “Allah” or “Bhagwan” or “Aliens (in the case of
scientology)”. During the first 10 years of my lonely journey, I had made it a
goal of mine, to destroy every shrine, temple, church, or place of worship that
I found along the way. I justified it as revenge.
“Revenge?”
Yes, revenge. My parents were not exactly a
religious bunch, openly defying all the bullshit regulations posted by the
Church around my home in Turku, Norway. They were publicly persecuted, socially
neglected, and theologically outcast. First thing is, they weren’t allowed to
marry, because of being in a homosexual relationship or in layman’s terms “Gay”
or in vulgar terms, “faggots”. My two fathers, one of whom was not actually my
father, and the other my biological father who my biological mother left for
coming out, were the ones that made me feel that I belonged somewhere. At other
places, people would harass me because I was different.
And you know what? They
killed them.
20 men, in hooded robes,
with Molotov cocktails, on a Sunday morning, fresh with dew, right after we
came back from church, burnt down my home, with my parents in it.
That’s the day I lost my
religion, and thought that I might as well burn it down someday.
I spent the next year moving
from place to place as a little vagabond on the streets of Turku. Then,
something got into me, and I, being the impulsive hothead that I am, jumped at
the first chance to hitchhike on a ship, to Rotterdam, Netherlands. I travelled
from there to Amsterdam and lived on the streets for another 3 years. I was a
prodigy, which was never successfully utilised, being in a social rejection for
the first 12 years of my life. I started writing up hypothesis on my particular
piece of Nobel Prize winning research when I was still in Turku. I progressed
upon it during my time in the streets. I stole a lot of books and then put them
back on after making notes. But that was my life in ignorance, and what do they
say? “Ignorance is bliss.”
I met Kyoko there, in
Amsterdam. Her father was transferred from Japan, being in a prominent fishing
company. He was based in Rotterdam, but wanted his daughter to have a beautiful
background for growing up in the form of Amsterdam. She was a prodigy herself.
I met her while stealing Stephen Hawking’s “Theory of Everything” from a
bookstore. She said that she could take me in, help me study and research.
Hence, her mother became my
mother and her father became mine, I felt like I could belong again. We studied
hard, got into Harvard, and then continued the research at Cambridge. We won
the Nobel Prize 5 years later.
I married Kyoko when we were
both 27 years old. She was the love of my life since the folly. 29 years
married, separated in a moment. Such mirthful irony doesn’t exist in the new
world. I am grateful for this. We were separated, but I never found her
remains. That is one reason I search around in the whole big world.
The Congo rainforest is
amazing now that there is no threat of spiders biting me in my legs. Siberia is
like the white heaven I was lead to believe existed. Sahara is the only place
that seems like it has remained untouched, but the empty borrows of desert
rabbits and the absence of swallows during migratory season hint otherwise.
Nothing is the same.
This is the 30th
of April, 2105, and this is the second journal entry by Dr. Erebus Bjornson.
She has come back, and I am
beginning to worry for my life.
Well, on second thought,
let’s continue. The sun is setting upon the Alps and the snow remains the
desolate reminder of loneliness.
One thing is that I can’t
decide if I want to continue my pursuit for a reason to live. I didn’t find
Kyoko in 50 years; I doubt I can in the next hundred. So, located a knife out
in the kitchen in Düsseldorf last week and I am burning inside to use it on my
arms. All I know is that it will be in vain, I will not die, just remain where
I am, burning from inside.
Animals are built to adapt
in a tough surrounding, and in a suitable environment, they start to
consolidate their evolutionary process to match that of their surroundings.
Evolution is a bad thing to
be subjected to, and I am the subject of a failed process. “The fittest of the
fit survives”, but it is hardly logical to call something fit if there are no
other organisms to compare its fitness to.
So is the case with one Dr.
Erebus Tiber Bjornson.
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