Prologue
Welcome to Europe. An overcrowded, heavily polluted economic powerhouse, and major hub for incoming flows of goods and people from all over the world. Twenty-seven nations, hundreds of cultures, half a billion individuals occupying this tiny patch of Earth. Glittering beacon of ethical supremacy or rotting cesspool of decaying ideals. Against this madhouse backdrop, millions of young people desperately try to bring some order and stability to their lives.
The year is 2012 of the Common Era, and the world is in crisis. The economic recession threatens to bring down entire nations, and global warming is changing weather patterns all over the planet. This is a time of great threats and of great opportunities for mankind. Now more than ever, humanity is confronted with itself. The question is... how will it handle the present, both as individuals and as a species? After all, the future is already written. To ensure the future does not repeat itself, one sometimes has to choose a different path...
That day, people were just going about their daily businesses. No one seemed to realize or care that their planet was spinning rapidly out of control. The city was sizzling in the searing summer heat that bore down on its denizens. The narrow streets in the old city center, just north of the financial district, were relatively empty for this time of day, the musty air vibrating with a kind of silent apprehension. Everyone was either at the beach or still at school or at work.
Not Thomas.
“Just relax while I prepare your skin for the tattoo.”
Thomas took a deep breath. He felt a bit anxious as the man began shaving off the little hairs on his forearm, but he was determined not to let his face show any fear. He was sitting in a chair at the Skin Deep tattoo parlor, his sweaty back sticking to the leather of the chair. An old fan slowly stirred the hot air above him and the latest summer hit from Inna was pumping out of the stereo. The walls were covered with old and washed-out posters of nude and semi-nude women. A man with a shaved head and huge arms completely covered in colorful art, would soon be etching his new tattoo into his skin.
“Your girlfriend is going to love this,” the artist promised, meanwhile thoroughly disinfecting the arm.
Thomas grinned, flashing a set of poorly kept teeth.
“She’d better,” he said. “I’ve been trying to get her to put out for weeks now. If this doesn’t do the trick, I don’t know what will.”
The tattoo artist decided not to comment on these remarks, silently preparing one of his needles for the task at hand. He knew exactly what kind of boy was sitting in his chair. Dozens like him had preceded him in here. The cropped, brightly dyed hair, the shining little earring in his left ear and the demeaning attitude had given the boy away the second he had walked into the parlor. He was shallow and insecure, and he hid this behind a mask of confidence and arrogance, the artist knew. His tattoo was merely another way of maintaining his image. A means to an end. Inking the name of your lover into your skin at the age of sixteen… Stupid kid. Surely there were more inspired reasons for getting a tattoo.
“First I am going to outline your tattoo,” the artist explained, dipping his needle into a tiny round cup filled with black ink.
“It may sting a little bit.” He wondered whether or not the cool and calm façade the boy had built around himself would crumble when the needle would be put to the flesh.
Thomas did not even do so much as wince. He had become a master at the art of displaying only that side of him that he wanted other people to see. Thus, he pleasantly jabbered on while his body was being marked for life. He knew he really wanted to do this, in the hopes of getting his girlfriend Layla to give herself to him. Beautiful Layla… Thomas had been with a lot of girls in the past few years. But Layla was the grand prize. She was the most beautiful girl at school. The girl that every guy wanted.
The tattoo artist quickly finished drawing the outline and proceeded with filling in the center. This stung a lot less, Thomas decided. Before he knew it, the tattoo was finished and covered with a small piece of cellophane to protect the open wound.
After paying, Thomas stepped out of the dim cool of the tattoo parlor into the blazing heat of the sun, entirely sure of himself. At least he had a reason to skip school this time, he thought. Strolling down the cobbled streets of the old city center, he reached into his pocket to grab his phone and began texting his girlfriend. He paid no attention at all to any oncoming walkers. He was surprised when he suddenly bumped up to someone after rounding a corner.
“Excuse me,” the startled oncomer stuttered.
“Yeah, watch where you’re going,” Thomas said contemptuously, before returning his attention to his phone and walking on.
The young oncomer ignored the rude outburst of the boy with the phone. So many people these days were stressed-out and uncivilized. He barely took notice of it anymore. He calmly wandered further down the street towards his destination. The old church near the square with the fountain.
The square was deserted. A serene quiet filled the place. The small fountain gurgled softly, and in the shade of the large poplars that encircled the square, small patches of sunlight were strewn about in an intricate pattern. It was a peaceful oasis that completely seemed to defy the existence of the modern outside world.
“Michael!” A man came walking up to the boy from the church, at the other end of the square. His medieval tonsure revealed he was a man of the cloth.
“Brother,” greeted Michael, bowing slightly as a sign of respect.
“I assume you have come to see brother Etienne,” the man asked. "Seeing as how you're not sitting in the classroom right now."
Michael nodded in confirmation.
“I am afraid he is not in town at the moment. He is on retreat in a monastery in France. “
When he saw the disappointed look on Michael’s face, the brother quickly tried to say something to soften the bad news. He was very fond of Michael, as were all the people of his parish. He was a humble, pious boy. And very devoted to his faith.
“If you want you are free to sit in the church for a while,” he said, smiling at the shy boy with his neatly groomed appearance.
“Thank you, brother. I will do that,” Michael replied, gratefully.
The brother watched him walk away towards the terrace of the church. The boy had suffered a great loss lately, he remembered, although he did not quite remember what it was. hadn't he lost a relative or something? So sad. At least he seemed to be handling it well…
Michael sat down on one of the church benches and prayed.
Sometimes a purely incidental occurrence is enough to change the fate of a person forever. Perhaps something that seems insignificant at first, such as a random encounter on the street or on the world wide web. In that moment, one does not realize the impact it could have on the future. That only becomes clear in retrospect. When there is no way back…
The threads of fate were already being woven together. But no one seemed to realized it. People simply went on living their twisted little lives in this crowded city in this disturbed country on this troubled continent on this crazy planet hurtling itself through the blackness of space at 30.000 kilometers per hour, oblivious to their impending doom.
