Sentilia

I got to the Historical Museum of California just an hour before they closed. It was a beautiful building that they had preserved for over a millennium. My transporter stopped right in front, I got out, and I took the time to examine the building. It was tall and white, with big columns right before the front doors. It didn’t really look like any of our sky high, glass towers. It actually had no windows at all, and had way too many stairs to get to the entrance. I started climbing them quickly, two by two, eager to get inside. Then I entered, slightly panting, and looked around.

The first thing I saw was a giant hologram of a black man that was once the leader not only of this division, but of almost the whole continent, and in bold capital letters it was written: BLACK HISTORY MONTH. I approached the screen. I didn’t understand why people once thought that skin colour had an impact on capabilities. I guess they couldn’t foresee that it would be a black man—Owen Hunter—who developed the battery that helped turn the world around; it was ecological, it stored enough energy to power the old electric cars, and quickly recharged under solar light. It’s a derivative of his original invention that powers practically everything now.

How fast things change.

After the moment of consciousness, the population had lowered drastically, and since people didn’t have the option to judge by race or colour anymore, people from all different cultures got together. Century after century, generation after generation, physical cultural traces started to fade, and it seemed a new race was forming; a mix of every culture that once existed; medium, warm skin tones; brownish, slightly slanted eyes; medium to dark wavy hair... As if the whole world had come from the same place. Of course, with genetic manipulation development, it became easier again to purposely change features in our newborns, but it’s a shame people don’t appreciate individually as much anymore. Was it a treasure regrettably lost? Or perhaps was it more of a curse—considering the human ego—that was lifted along with racism, cultural wars, and genocides.

There was so much I felt I didn’t know about my past, even if I knew more than most people did. Every time we had to hand in a research paper of our choice of subject, I would always choose history. I sometimes even liked to pretend that I had papers to hand in, and researched different history subjects for fun. I’ve always thought: how can you know where you’re going, when you don’t know where you’re from? They did not teach us much about history in our schooling programs. They preferred that we “look into the future instead.” That’s at least what our Peacekeeper—my mom—told me when I tried to push my research further.

Up ahead, there was a big beautiful painting, similar to the one I saw in the nurse’s office, but this one was of a small clearing in a tea green forest. It was filled with tall grass and vibrantly colored daisies; I could almost feel the tingling of the grass on my calves, the wind blowing through my hair, and the sun heating up my skin.

The remaining pictures and paintings were all as breathtaking. One was a vast forest with such enormous trees I couldn’t have even put my arms around them; in the middle of the trees was a pathway made of patted leaves. The whole picture was tinted with rich shades of emerald, lime and a touch of russet. Another one was a view of a pitch-black ocean, covered by a dark grey sky, bordered by smooth stones and grainy sand.

I had never seen an ocean with my own eyes before, so I didn’t know what colour the water was; all I knew was that our lakes were murky brown. It astonished me that our filters could clean it up enough so it would become drinkable. I preferred not to think about it too much...

I was having a moment. I took the time to daydream, to imagine what it would be like. Had it all really existed? How could it, with colours so vibrant and nature so alive? I remembered reading something once about dinosaurs. People in the past had trouble believing in those gigantic creatures because they had been extinct for an enormous lapse of time. But the fact was that they had really existed, they had proof of it. I guess that if I ever found proof, apart from these pictures, I would maybe believe it had all been real as well. But it still felt very strange to me, and I felt like it was all a dream more than reality.

What I knew for sure is that our leaders would not lie to us. They wouldn’t showcase all of this if it weren’t true. However, it did seem like all this went against their “look into the future” policy. Who could possibly look at these and not be sad of all that’s been lost?

I started wandering through the corridors again. A few feet away from me, there was a big poster tapered to the wall, with the corners slightly rolled in, only the top was secured with a wooden trim. The colours were a bit faded, but under the scratches and small tears, you could see a group of five people, some standing up, some in a crouched position, all dressed in sharp blue suits and bowties, holding musical instruments. After a moment staring at their shiny white smiles I read that in the past, music was extremely varied and people used to sing lyrics to them. I had only previously heard instrumental partitions, and so, when I pressed on the demonstration button, the music that followed was very bizarre to me: “I like it, I think”. I nodded my head in approval, but my frown didn’t loosen. Indicated on the bottom left corner was an “oldies” station. Continuing my walk through the corridors, I was already anxious to discover the station, and broaden my musical horizons.

It was then I saw it. The screen said Los Angeles, CA, 2010. I staggered and caught myself on a small booth beside the bay window. It was a view of the city. There were­—small for me, but tall for the time—apartment buildings all made out of small square windows; a sunlit park right in the middle of the city, as green as ever, and people walking, running with their dogs. They were actually on the street...and the cars: people drove them. It was mind-blowing. People seemed more in control of their lives, more free, than I could ever dream of being.

Right beside the large picture was another one of L.A. It was a beach as amazing as the ones on the previous paintings and pictures. I sat in front of it for almost an hour, just dreaming and imagining what it was to live in that time. At some point I got up and got closer to the picture—I had noticed a small inscription that was barely big enough to read. And when I tried to read it, I just couldn’t. Not because it wasn’t visible, it just wasn’t comprehensible. Was it an old language that had disappeared? Probably. Although, having studied some of the most common lost languages, I couldn’t say I recognized this one at all. Nothing on the information panel was mentioned about the inscription.

It was almost closing time at the museum, so I had to move on.

I started walking again, and I saw a pile of books and newspapers on display. I thought it was such a bad way of communicating. I didn’t really understand the use of paper from the moment they had computers...well I also couldn’t hide the fact that I disliked the feeling of reading on a screen. But still, it was a waste of all that paper, therefore beautiful trees. If only they would have known the mess it would cause. The deforestation of the world happened quickly. When people noticed it was getting out of hand, it was already too late.

I went on, reading everything I could.

There was a display of books again. Under the display, on the panel, it was written: People of the 20th century spoke about 7000 languages worldwide; we now speak English, Mandarin, French, and have kept teaching German and Latin roots.

I read then what was the most vital piece of information of our history. Something I had practically already memorized by heart. What had changed our planet, saved it from war, pollution and complete destruction, but also what made it a most strict and boring place: the moment of consciousness.

The moment of consciousness

Year 2106

A time of great suffering for our ancestors, that was the year they realized all human life would end on earth if they continued living like they were. The air was almost irrevocably polluted, the ozone layer near piercing point. They hadn’t found a new planet to move to. Not to mention the United States were half destroyed, their population half decimated, by nuclear bombs. The sky was always murky, and humidity was climbing in density.

On June 30th 2106, the United Nations (an intergovernmental organization that used to promote international co-operation) deployed a million air filters in one day. They suddenly appeared in every state, every city, everywhere. The filters replaced trees, which were already practically extinct.

To this day, the source of these advanced filters has never been revealed to the public—only Owen Hunter’s involvement was clearly stated—even my mom told me she didn’t know a thing about them.

The atmosphere seemed to improve at an impossible speed. The only thing that was left to do was to ally the world chiefs, to make a truce of peace, abolish armies and war altogether. There was a reunion called with the head of every country. None of them knew at the time that they would be stuck in a room with each other: enemies and all. It had been a secret operation that was organized by the first Advisors, The First Ten. People still wonder what happened in that room... but as soon as they got out of that meeting, radical measures were taken.

Life has never been the same.

A lot of details were missing. It was like one of my fill in the blanks stories I used to do in pre-school. It was clear, and frustrating, that the Advisors only wanted us to know the basic lines, but my good mood couldn’t weaken even after the evidence of my thoughts.

I was floating on a cloud. I had never felt this way before. I was truly amazed.

I headed back home, smiling, after picking up a few books at the exit of the museum. The clerk had seemed amused by my reaction when he told me I could choose any books I wanted. I had squealed when I saw the twenty-something book choice, and decided to pick 2, to be reasonable, and went home, holding them to my chest like my most precious treasure.

“Hey mom! Hey dad! How was your day? It turned out to be a beautiful day after all, right?” I glided to my room.

Just before entering my room I saw both my parents throw me a who-are-you-and-what-did-you-do-to-our-daughter look.

I guess it’s not a good sign when your own parents stare because you are in a good mood. I was elated, but I didn’t even understand why I was; it was somewhat depressing that I could never relate, more than with pictures, to that time. This is a robot world. We are treated as if we are individual systems. We are going overboard with technology, we use it a little too much; it’s not exaggerating to say we are losing our “human” side.

We started eating dinner, and the silence that reigned while we ate gave me time to think. Time I didn’t want to have. Sooner or later, however, I knew it would have come down to this, so I had no choice but to slowly slip into desolating thoughts.

First thing I came to realize was that I was bound to live in the present, and I was nourishing an impossible dream to go back in time.

I was anguished to have to live all my life knowing what I did now, about the past. I was starting to regret my innocent—at first—visit to the museum.

When I got to my room, my thoughts really got carried away. Every time I went to bed late—just before falling asleep—I always had anguishing thoughts about the most insignificant thing that happened earlier in my day. Now the yearning I felt to have lived a millennium ago turned into an unbearable helplessness because I knew I couldn’t change things; I couldn’t go back in time.

I had to try to sleep to forget. I tried hard to silence the voice inside my head, but I was unsuccessful. I opened my bedside table’s drawer, and pulled out a gel pill that would help me sleep. I let the tablet dissolve on my tongue, and closed my eyes.

The same night, I dreamt such a wonderful dream. I was floating in the night sky; out of the dark appeared brightly coloured lights exploding in a thousand strings of fire all around me, fading, one by one, behind me as I passed.