It raised some interest when Gemma entered one of the biggest buildings in the center of N. and applied for a job. People were surprised mainly because she was too young to even start considering her career. It was one of those glass modern skyscrapers with transparent walls, black and white furniture, endless elevators, spacious terraces with a view over the panorama of N., personal offices, smaller and bigger conference rooms. The influx of people was so smooth that hardly anyone saw one other while coming in or out of the office and the corridors had been designed in such a way that most often you felt that you were completely alone there, without disruptions and disturbances. The culture of work required peace and quiet. 

Gemma was dressed in her best clothes and made her hair in a bun. She looked different with her makeup fully done, with her nails polished and her clothes impeccable. She also felt different, as if her life in K. had been non-existent as if it all had been a fairy tale and she had never been there in the first place. Melquiades gave her quite clear directions on what kind of occupation she should apply for, but he didn't tell her what were his intentions. What he had given her was a general idea. She was to figure out how people were counted. Meanwhile, she doubted that she could figure out any system with the knowledge and experience she had.

When the man from the recruitment agency saw her for the first time, he smiled and was willing to give her the job straight away. The procedure, however, had to be carried out, questions asked and her ability to perform the job assessed. The interviewer was satisfied. Gemma answered calmly and professionally. She wasn't stressed and afraid. She really regarded this whole situation bizarre just like she generally thought about the life in N. She learned all N. nuances and codes, she accepted and started to imitate corporate behavior, she frequently logged on the system and even took part in events organized for establishing the bond and sense of unity among the residents of the block she was inhabiting. And for want of a better word, she thought it extremely fake, as if you couldn't just live and not pretend that you're living. She had a lot of acquaintances but not even one real friend. She met a lot of people but not even one on the everyday basis and there was not even one she could invite home.

She was pleased when she got the job, but, according to the norms, she should be overly excited. She was openly glad to receive her own office room with a glimpse of the view of the panorama of N. but, deep within, she was barely satisfied. Because she was so young, she was told that any developing career is yet for her closed, unavailable and long-time-ahead, if ever possible. And because she came from K. she should be glad to even obtain such a post. Some places put you in order. Some backgrounds couldn't be easily erased even with the means of the impeccable body. 

Her start of vocational life meant that she was able to switch her flat for a bigger one. She, however, resigned from the privilege as her current lodgings were closer to K. and she didn't really want to move again. What would mean another room and another location if the only things that she valued in her flat were the crayons she used to play with as a young teen and now was spending all her free days drawing the pictures of K. memories to preserve the time spent there.

Her main job was to check the logistics of the transportation of beans to the countries located thousands of kilometers away. It was N.'s only import-export entrepreneurship and, also, extremely well-preserved. The profit was enormous and the business had been well established as, according to the data accessible to her, the exchange started decades ago. Gemma suddenly realized what was the reason for N.'s industrial success. Melquiades told her that K. was an entirely self-sufficient agricultural country. It didn't need any contacts with any other country and had been deprived of these contacts years before.
N., on the other hand, depended on K. on agricultural production. And, as opposed to K., kept all the money from one particular business. Beans. N. had been earning quite a substantial amount of money from selling tons of beans each year, and instead of investing in K., it had been investing in itself, its buildings, cars, buses and its technology. And seeing the numbers from the charts Gemma was supervising, it has been making an enormous profit. 
You couldn't buy anything in K., at least anything of value, apart from food and men. But seeing these buildings in N., these offices, and vehicles, Gemma was sure that K. must have had a long-standing contact with some foreign countries. Beans was just one of the proofs. Gemma was sure that trips abroad must have been an inspiration for the design of building, cars, buses, and homes. Some parts of N. were almost an imitation of the greatest World capitals, some houses of great palaces, with Jacob's palace the greatest of them all. 
But apart from technology, construction and all K. management, N. invested in something more than that. It invested in its beauty.

Oh the people of N. were beautiful. Gemma felt the looks cast on her when walking along the corridors, and she felt instantly accepted. She, in return, passed tall, thin and well-groomed men and tall and slim women. Before and after work people were exercising, going to spa resorts and putting lotions on their body to preserve the passing of time. Cosmetic surgery was common, any appearing wrinkles were erased, hanging chins - removed and people for years and years looked impeccable. Even in their old age they still looked better than all elderly men she had been seeing at Melquiades' meetings. Gemma also looked impeccable but she didn't feel impeccable. She still felt like a little girl running around the house without her clothes, covered with mud, with greasy hair and dirty feet. She liked eating with her hands and sleeping on the floor. And in this big transparent building, she was keeping all her emotions and instincts hidden.

A month after she was employed she met a girl in the cafeteria. It was a pretty petite brunette with a lovely smile and a pleasant sense of humor. Her name was Martha. They became friends and spent their lunch breaks together chit-chatting, laughing and talking abut their work. Martha was a great company. She was in her early thirties and hasn't been married yet.

'My parents insist. It's not that I don't want to do that at all, but they say that it's high time I got pregnant with my first child. They say that if it doesn't work out, I can always divorce, but would you want to start something that is not going to last? I look at the profiles every day. Some men are really attractive, but this whole sex thing makes me a little bit nervous.'

'It's not that scary... I mean, the pain at the beginning wasn't that pleasant but I had my toe broken and that was far worse...'

'Oh, you've done it? And tell me, what does it look like?'

Gemma didn't know how to describe it in the right way so she did as best she could.

'You spread your legs and he puts his penis inside. And then he moves in and out. Not a big deal.'

Martha was shocked. Gemma was sure that this kind of intimate contact was a little bit too harsh for her to digest.

'But of course there are all these nice things, kisses, hugs, and whispers...' Gemma didn't really remember Adam ever whispering to her but she did recall a rat, 'And gifts!'

'Oh, that sounds nice!' Martha was finally calmed down 'I must try this dating as soon as possible!'

Gemma thought to herself that she, on the other hand, must never start dating as lunches with Martha required on her part gentleness that she couldn't find in her at all. And from what she heard about these dates she wouldn't stand even one conversation. 
At work, she felt so strained, forced to think and act as she wasn't used to that way of conduct, and as soon as she came back to her flat, she started to draw. When she had a really tiring day, she would draw on the walls. Her flat changed into a work of art that exhibited K.'s streets, haggard people, dilapidated buildings, and people's harsh and tired faces so different from the ones she was seeing in N. on the everyday basis. She covered white walls with pictures she knew by heart, and from the pictures came to her glimpses of scents, tastes, and feelings, and she would sit looking at the walls and realize how strongly one could be attached to a place, and that such a place could never be replaced with the most beautiful, transparent, glass walls.

Melquiades wasn't even angry. It was difficult to overcome the state of shock that was created in his mind when he got to know the truth. The system was to him clear as never before. All the fields within the borders of K. were able to keep alive approximately 200 hundred million people. Any surplus meant hunger and malnutrition of others, by cutting all the rations, and the peaceful nature of K.'s citizens would in this way be violated. Thus, they kept the records particularly precise. They didn't allow citizens to build new houses since the fields for fruit and vegetable production were necessary. They cramped all of them in the remaining houses and inhibited other industrial developments. There was no mining, no schools, no construction, no sciences, and humanities. One set of clothes obtained as a token of adulthood was more than enough since you were never entirely sure whether you will live till the ripe old age. Those lucky few who did had their old houses which in the past were yet another acquisition but now proved to be of gold value. Even when Melquiades was growing up, his peers were certain that they would inherit their parents' houses and the fear of homelessness had been rather scarce. The elderly were too old to be eaten so once you crossed a certain date in your life's calendar, you could consider yourself lucky. The only area of people's activity was food production, food preservation, and food preparation. K. citizens were designed to be the masses concentrated on agriculture, while N., covering just up to seven per cent of K.'s grounds, was being constantly developed, improved, modernized. In N. they had the greatest facilities and the greatest developments of human thought. They had a technology, even surpassing the one Melquiades was exposed to while being away. The only problem with N. was that each year to its borders thousands, hundred thousand, possibly even millions of citizens were transferred, cleaned, killed and eaten. And Jacob was the supervisor of all that madness.

Melquiades thought about it for some time now. At first, he felt the responsibility towards K. and felt remorse that he was the one to abandon it in times of the greatest political upheaval. Then, he felt the responsibility that those years of him being healthy, wealthy and content now required work on his part. Some kind of debt he had to pay back. He tried, he tried hard as he might, but while numbers, in theory, were to be managed easily, having acquired a certain amount of knowledge, people proved to be stubborn, difficult and stuck in their old ways. Melquiades lacked the charisma necessary to lead the crowds and he felt that influencing the decisions of the few elderly, with whom he met so regularly over the past years, was too much for his weakening body. And, according to what Gemma told him over the past few months, N. has been running like clockwork. Jacob seemed to deal with this definitely better. His reign lasted decades and not even a single person could do something about it. People were eaten with their full consent. Yes, in return they had almost limitless access to food. Yes, there was some sort of shelter provided for them all. And yes, K. was as peaceful and havoc-free as a village disconnected from any kind of tribal animosities. But was this an enough price to live until there was one single order to instantly arrive at a train station and to be in a silent way taken to some distant plant and turned into a chop?

Melquiades knew people had tendencies to be mad, but what kind of madness was that?

He was thinking about it really hard. He got obsessed with the idea. He knew he couldn't crash the system. He couldn't face two hundred million people and all of a sudden become their leader. Yet, he knew that he could do something, which others didn't even seem to take into account. There was in him one very pristine strength. Something more important than all the knowledge of the world he gained over the years, all the experiences he had, all the people he had ever encountered. In his blood, there was the blood of his father who, by means of natural cataclysm, obtained the land of this country, and the blood of his brother, who was its irreplaceable leader. And as the owner of the same exact blood, he was able to do what had to be done. He was going to kill Jacob.

It was brilliant. Not even the plan but the initial idea. Implementing the plan, however, proved to be even more difficult than he would have imagined. While Gemma, due to her exceptional physique, was welcomed in N. as one of its people, she was being cared for and protected as all of them were and would be until some unspecific future event, it was quite impossible to get to N. otherwise. Melquiades was old and not particularly attractive. He couldn't do anything about it and even though he wanted and had all the necessary qualifications, such as education and literacy, some gates were to him closed for ever. There were only a few categories of people who could enter N. without being killed instantly. One of them were those lucky few who thanks to their physical features could fit in the strict pattern of N. citizens. In the past, it was apparently frequent and people put a lot of effort in educating their children and allowing them a better future in N. Such practices started to be less common, as people stopped taking care of their children. Taking into account the fleeting possibility of actually living longer than your progeny in that roller-coaster lottery of life and death, Melquiades wasn't particularly surprised that all family bonds weakened and the parent-child relationship was biological, animalistic and short. He even suspected that if it wasn't for him, Gemma might have been killed or mutilated as any N. citizen within the borders of K. The distant N. rose fear, but any genuine N.-like person when in K. must have risen only hostility. 

As far as crossing the border was concerned, there were no planes, no cars and no roads leading to N. The only trains available were allowed only to those able to legitimize with N. passes. Every few years a group of N. engineers entered K. in search of exceptionally talented youngsters who could build dames from wooden sticks, bridges from pavement plates or simple huts somewhere high on tree branches. N. couldn't live without K. as looks weren't enough to keep N. alive. Melquiades saw flaws in Jacob's system, as he had often seen mistakes in his school homework. Jacob wasn't paying attention. Melquiades hoped that there lied his advantage. Jacob could have always been proven wrong.

The key was numbers. There was no official registration of K. people. For years they didn't conduct surveys concerning the name, age, place of birth or habitation. They didn't see any point in such actions as everything was temporary and the population was growing so fast. They didn't keep the record of every citizen but somehow they knew when the population changed and those changes were leading to the final means. The elderly didn't know anything. They didn't know how people were counted and how N. knew that K. was growing in strength. And that it had to be deprived of that strength by reminding its people where their ultimate place was, that is on N.'s plates.

Melquiades needed connections. He needed a very fluent passage between the two areas. A lasting and uninhibited web. He had already one person in N. Gemma was wasting her days, bored and isolated, and now she might come of use. But Melquiades needed one more person to keep an eye on everything. To be sure that his expectations were right. He needed one person from N. But how could he do that? They were eating thousands of K. people while not a single person from N. had been seen by Melquiades over the years he spent in his old house.
How could he get anyone from there to his place? Suddenly he laughed at himself. And then he laughed at his own ignorance.
Only then these silly letters that he had been getting from one curious boy finally put a piece to his puzzle. 

He opened his drawer and once again opened the envelope. This time he read the content carefully. He took a piece of paper and a pen and wrote as nicely as he could.

Dear John,

I am most privileged to welcome you at my place and be your host for as long as it is necessary for you to know the habits, customs, languages and cultural differences that shape our country. I can offer you a peaceful room with all the necessary facilities and answers to your questions. I hope that our cooperation will have a positive influence on your scientific career. You have to prepare all the necessary documents as the administration is not yet established in our land. In return, I only ask for the same favor. I would like to spend a couple of weeks in N. just to learn the habits and customs of your people. I hope it won't pose a serious problem for you. 

Best wishes, 

Melquiades

He sealed the envelope and put it in the drawer for things he stored for Gemma. It looked particularly important among the set of uneven crayons that she had been using as a child, and now badly wanted to use again to cover the walls in her white block of flats. 

It's funny how civilization triggers the need to exchange experiences, the desire to share thoughts, to maintain close bonds with other human beings. It's funny how few can be alone in the world, not speaking to anyone, not keeping in touch. It's funny that the saddest form of loneliness is drinking alone, looking at oneself in the mirror, or eating alone in front of a TV screen and finding consolation in the net of people who don't really see each other but feel that they have something in common.

When Gemma went to N., Adam felt as alone as one can possibly feel in the world. He felt heartbroken like a pet left by his owner for an unspecific amount of time, and even though he was instructed and told what is the reason for the beloved's departure, he spoke a different language and couldn't understand. Adam was that much alone. His loneliness started to be tiresome and exhaustive, the shed they built together remained a promise of something not likely to come true. He knew that she would come back, and she promised to come back more often than once a month, but he would go painfully lonely and needed the contact with other human beings. After what he had been taught and after what he had seen, he didn't want to spend his life on his own but wanted his life to be full and stimulated.

He went to one of the institutions, those places where they grouped children wandering around the streets without guidance. They welcomed him heartily, assessed his age as entering the adulthood or, possibly, late teens on the verge of maturation and, as he had no proof either on paper or in the corners of his memory, he entered the world of grown-ups. And the grown-ups had tokens of the maturity. He was given a pair of shoes, a pair of trousers, one shirt, a warm winter coat and a mug. He was located to one of the buildings and a bed in the room full of more or less twenty beds was given to him as the substitute of all material possessions.

The first night was tough, as he missed both Gemma and his shed which, despite its hollowness, had more space for him than the mentioned bed. But he knew that Gemma would be coming back and he knew that he will be coming back to the shed, so the idea of not resigning from it altogether was somewhat consoling.

Next few days proved to be cheerful. He was relocated to another room, this time comprising eighteen beds, a job in the preservation of food was given to him and he made new friends: boys similar to him in age and posture. They had common interests and they thought about the world in the same way. Adam felt a part of the group and, as a result, he felt a part of K. N. seemed somewhere far away, too far for him to comprehend it, even though he had first-hand information about what it was like there and what could be seen in the place he could never in his life visit.

It was then that he realized that Gemma was special. When he looked at other girls, he knew that her figure and her face were out of this world, and possibly belonged to N. from the very beginning. Boys and girls he met were rather lanky, haggard, grayish, as if they had genetic predispositions not to be attractive at all. It wasn't that they were utterly ugly. Their appearance was rather mediocre. Some were bigger, some were fatter, some slimmer and taller, but when he compared them to Gemma there was something missing. A quality they didn't have. Something small like an atom, but when missing, it made all the difference. And he knew perfectly that he belonged to this atom-less group just fine. If there was really a division between people from N. and from K., it was K. he had to treat as his motherland. In K.'s woods he wandered alone as a child, K.'s fruits were his meals and K.'s soil gave him both warmth and protection in summer and cold and threat in winter.

Sometimes when the boys were sleeping, he tried to recall Gemma's looks, her smell and the taste of her body. When boys were talking about girls, he felt silent and didn't want to say even one single world about her. He kept her a secret, a lost treasure he didn't want to share with anyone, especially those who wouldn't appreciate her being as he grew to appreciate. 

He first knew when he was in love when she disappeared for a longer period of time. He missed looking at her and couldn't wait for her return from the unspecific place on earth. 
Then he started to be afraid of death. He never cared about his life, he survived terrible conditions, hunger, colds, and dangerous weather. But when she appeared in his life he started to be careful. He didn't want to fall sick and die and he didn't want to be killed by anyone. Suddenly he started to value his life and all those moments they spent together. He also didn't talk about her in front of anybody, as if profaning her by speech could do her harm. 

From time to time he came back to the forest to check whether this old man was still alive and whether the house she used to live in was still standing, but he knew that K. was devoid of one single bright ray of sunshine. And that made him more mature than all the tokens that he obtained by K. authorities. The bed didn't matter. What mattered was his newly received isolation.

John liked cutting his chop into fine pieces and then spreading some sauce onto them, playfully mixing the pieces on the plate, and then combining one perfect bite: meat, some vegetables and a piece of potato. He would put the bite into his mouth and chew slowly, appreciating both the texture and flavor. His mother prepared such delicious meat casseroles, minced pies, tasty little dumplings with meat filling and grilled steaks with the addition of cranberry sauce, all of which made his mouth water. He also enjoyed the stew which his mother made for special occasions, carefully chopping onions and adding the right amount of flour to make the sauce thicker. He loved meeting his friends in their favorite burger place where you could taste really good burgers with home-made buns and a great selection of sauces and vegetables, from oriental to traditional. He enjoyed inviting his friends for an evening with a film and a pizza sprinkled with chopped meat, or a meaty lasagne with an excellent Bolognese sauce made from fresh and plump tomatoes.

There was a period in his life when he decided to become a vegetarian, after being taught where N.'s meat came from (his mother called it a period of the conscious teenage activism), but after a year his immune system got worse, he would get colds and flues, so his mother decided to put an end to his idealistic ambitions and got rid of his diet by preparing for him a full, fatty broth and a proper dinner with a piece of meat. You could say that he struggled but after a while, he enjoyed eating meat again and couldn't be convinced to do otherwise.

Some parts of activism stayed in his heart, and maybe that's why he strongly attached his future and vocational life with K.

His first school essay on K. gained him a scholarship and a positive comment on the part of his teacher, his choice of career was to his mother surprising but it wasn't devoid of the pride on her part. Not every son had such ambitions. Most boys wanted to have a stable and secure life, a beautiful wife and a beautiful child, secure occupation, a few houses in the suburbs and a few flats in the center; possibly their own plant or production center if they didn't like working for someone else. John didn't seem to crave such security.

John, however, felt that he made his mother worried. He couldn't wipe out his interest in K. but he could well fulfill his other obligations and seriously started looking for a partner.

He logged onto the system and put all the necessary details, highlighting what he liked and didn't like in a woman. He was very precise about her measurements and even provided the picture of his mother as the exemplary first woman of his life, whom he found attractive. Filling in the data and answering questions in his psychological profile was tiring, however, he was proud of his hard work and the summary of the system. 
His specific traits were considered to be conscientiousness, loyalty and the lack of appreciation of material possessions. He was valued for his educational achievements and neatness. His interest in K. wasn't much of a concern, but his interest in a woman was likely to perish after ten years of marriage, so he was a potential divorcee with a high status of fidelity on his part. His physical attractiveness was assessed as satisfactory with an annotation that he should devote more of his time to physical exercise and skin protection. His hair was considered genetically perfect, while his teeth were of a standard size and didn't need any improvements. 

The following day he was provided with a hundred pictures of potential partners, matching his interests, psychological profile and genotype. He looked at the photographs and tried to find a common denominator. All of them were attractive and the majority had similar character traits and life experiences. Some of them specified that they were willing to enter the marriage only for the purpose of reproduction, others guaranteed three years of mutual fidelity and a separation to go on with their individual careers. Some of them experienced one or two failed marriages and offered good time spent together, without plans, expectations, and children. Others specified which character traits were considered by them inappropriate and with which they wouldn't be able to deal with for a long time. A small percentage already had children and needed partners to bring them up together. Even a smaller one needed only partners for conversation and didn't consider physical closeness necessary in the marital relationship.

John devoted his whole week to reading through the profiles and choosing five with whom he wanted to meet face to face. He showed the list to his mother who carefully looked at the pictures.

'I know one of them,' she said smiling to him 'A month ago this girl was applying for N. citizenship. She's really attractive. A rare beauty. But I wouldn't try it just now. She's too young. She just started the adaptation process. It's too soon for dating.'

John was disappointed. Mother sensed it by the look on his face.

'But you can wait. Give her some time. I'm sure she'll be a perfect match, however, not so soon. Meanwhile, you can test other candidates.'

John nodded and put the girl's profile in the wardrobe.  

Girls from the remaining profiles were particularly attractive. They were entertaining him with their conversations and saying how profitable and lucrative the marriage with them would be. One girl was especially disappointed after meeting him in person, so they both decided to finish the date instantly. And on one particular occasion, it was John who was disillusioned.  He couldn't make out what the woman was telling him about, they visibly didn't see eye to eye, so he dropped out from the dating experience and formally apologized for the time taken.

With some of them he had sex in his house, sometimes he invited ladies to his mother's home, at other times he was invited over to his date's place and had some seductive time there. Sex was complicated. Sometimes they were so physically different that the intercourse wasn't complete. At other times they had different temperaments and completely separate outlook on physical closeness and expectations. John liked talking after sexual fulfillment and as he was talking about K. (as that was his main interest) most of the women he slept with were instantly discouraged. Maybe he wasn't that good in bed? He didn't have the courage to ask about such matters, however, in physical matters, he felt out of his element. By talking about K. he wanted to make up for the inadequacy in other areas.

After a month of dating, he decided to stop. Maybe he wasn't the marrying type. His mother was content that he at least started doing something about it and dropped the subject. She even asked about his work concerning K. and didn't stress him about the importance of a relationship. He had still time to conceive his progeny. When she was maturing her parents insisted on her marriage. She didn't have to love the man, she even didn't have to like him, but giving a birth of at least one baby was her duty and early in her life this duty had to be obeyed.

John, instead of being discouraged by the failed dating process, decided to develop his career and, along with his on and off research, he won a position at the K. calculation placement institution. The job was quite monotonous but required some skills. Each year the number of K. citizens was transported to N. for utilization purposes. Some won the post of plant engineers, others were able to apply for K. citizenship as this blond girl from the profile picture. There were hundreds of people responsible for minor number variations. Everything had to be checked and calculated. Closed districts had to be cleaned and inhabited by the remaining citizens of K. And apparently in K. there were funny things going on. There was some gossip about the creation of schools or the imitations of social institutions. John didn't belong to a group believing that K. people were deprived of mental abilities, but he was sure that those years of the lack of civilization made them at least a little bit less advanced. They just couldn't all of a sudden organize themselves on their own. Brains didn't grow on carrots. He laughed. He didn't believe in those rumors.

But he did apply for the position of the head of the project on social customs in K. and applied to the consulate for a visa abroad. As he didn't have a wife, he had time to develop yet another project of his dreams.

With Gemma gone, Melquiades found himself alone in the house. Alone and hungry. All of a sudden he had to cook for himself and for himself check whether he wasn't spending too much time with books. If there was one sensible guide on raising a country from the ruins he would have been glad, but there were many touching upon various aspects of civilization and he needed to make a whole out of their parts. From time to time he would go to Jacob's room inhabited over the years by Gemma, he would sit there alone, look at their clothes, and didn't know who he missed more: his brother or his protegee. From time to time he would look at Jacob's old picture from the times that he remembered him so vividly, when the father was still alive, when they were young and so different, and then he would look at a completely different Jacob, lurking at him from the photograph, smiling powerfully without exposing his teeth. That was someone he didn't know at all, even though physically he thought that he knew him so well.

K. was slowly getting in shape. Melquiades was spending nights reading about society and he tried to use his wit to make a simplified version of this society in K. He organized schools. He implemented people who knew something about herbal medicine and treating the sick. He introduced small groups of men who would take care of the order, their only uniform being a black piece of material on their shoulders. He wanted to limit the population growth by the means of contraception but that part wasn't such a successful enterprise. Condoms were getting used fast, while he didn't have enough plants to produce enough of them. Some men claimed that it took all the pleasure from sexual intercourse and some women, surprisingly, got used to being pregnant every year and didn't mind. Melquiades thought that they would mind if they had to take care of their newborns for the rest of their life, but in K. there was no idea of a marriage or a family. There were no ceremonies of weddings, and even though men usually made love to one woman throughout their life, the most faithful relationships weren't legalized. Melquiades thought that it was mainly due to the lack of space and the impossibility of two people living together on their own. Flats were usually divided into rooms, rooms into segments, and those segments were occupied by dozens. And there was a law for the citizens of K. which forbade building anything new, thus the number of people inhabiting one block of flats was systematically raising. And simultaneously, the space for one individual shrank.

Melquiades was glad that at least, thanks to a proper nutrition, people were healthy, there were no major diseases, only incidental cases of death during childbirth, some unfortunate accidents and people's life rate was impressively high.

There were a couple of questions Melquiades desperately wanted to ask, but apart from the time devoted to the meetings, no one wanted to stay in his place for longer and dispute over issues forbidden to talk about. The old man was content with what he had achieved but his inborn curiosity was stronger. Late at night one day after reading letters from circuits about the state of education and healthcare, he went to his basement for the first time since he had come back and found there an impressive collection of wines. There were wines bought by his father when he first started belonging to the class of the rich and there were wines purchased probably later than that. Hundreds of bottles of wines were occupying his own basement and he wasn't even aware.

Melquiades smiled at the very thought of such an amount. He wasn't fond of alcohol but he distinctly remembered what wine did to his father, how easily persuaded he was when he drank and how Jacob used his temporary weakness to achieve what he wanted, whether it was money for a new pair of shoes or the permission to spend the night at his friends' house. And when Melquiades wanted to get money for another book, he would do exactly the same. He would pour another glass of wine and pass it to the father, and with a soft and innocent voice he would tell him the story, a boyish fairy tale why he needed such an item, and why spending money on it was so crucial. It wasn't even the fact that the father instantly agreed on such a purchase, but that he did that with the eagerness of a schoolboy getting a chocolate for a small house chore. The distant memory gave Melquiades an idea.

Melquiades wrote letters announcing the feast. Then he went to the town to ask if there were any people willing to cook and any girls willing to have fun with guests. As he suspected there were plenty who, in exchange for food, drink, and good fun, would be likely to work for him.

The feast was to be held the following week. The elderly were invited. It was required of women to wash and put some pretty shades on their faces. The best food was cooked and Melquiades' house was decorated with lanterns and flowers to welcome a party of a hundred guests.

He himself wore the best suit and polished his shoes. He welcomed the ladies and showed them rooms which they could use for moments of pleasure, he showed the cooks the kitchen and encouraged them to use the tastiest recipes they knew ever existed, and he provided the freshest fruit and vegetables. He took boxes with wine and made sure that tables contained the right number of bottles.

And, as he welcomed his guests, he made sure that after an hour or so they would be drunk enough to make room for his work.

It was a funny sight to see old men running, red in the face, slipping and tripping in the hunt after naked women. It was a little bit disturbing to see them in his own bed, spreading legs of funny, cheerful girls who visibly liked it, wishing that one such night would have a profitable effect on their future. The sound of the elderly exhaling their gasps and moans of sexual fulfillment was to Melquiades embarrassing, but he stayed there, poured wine to every empty glass, and encouraged every girl to take care of a lonely man not yet properly entertained. 

And he waited until three in the morning, when most girls had been lying naked in the arms of the men of desire, until almost all food had disappeared from the tables, until almost empty bottles of wine had been lying on the table spilling its juice on the table cloth, which used to be white but now looked like a proof of a defloration of a hundred girls.

And then he approached a few half-conscious, half-naked elderly men, who then looked less admirable, powerful and respectful. He sat next to them and whispered questions in their ears. Some of them were not able to speak, some of them had heads as strong as to have reasons not to answer but some answered willingly and spoke more than he wished they would. 

'Why can't we build new houses?'

The man laughed.

'Isn't that obvious? If we build something new there won't be any fields for growing plants. There's just enough land for feeding two hundred million people. There was once an enormous hunger, years and years ago. Crops failed. Millions died. We need grounds to grow food for everybody, and some more in case there will be another crops disaster. Everything is calculated. We have so much because for years there had been no such a cataclysm. We were lucky. We have food for more than two hundred million.'

'But there is more than two hundred million people. When I came here six years ago there was two hundred million. With what I have seen, and with my failed plan to put a stop to it, there must be more than that.'

'... But this is obvious! They are taken to N.! If there's more than two hundred million, all those above this number, they are taken to N. That's why the number is constant. It never changes.'

'They are taken to N. to do what?'

The old man looked at him with disbelief and stopped talking. 

Melquiades ran upstairs to find another man and repeated the same question over and over again to those unconscious and drunk, but they were looking at him with a mix of ridicule and madness in their eyes.

The last man raised his head over the breasts of a young girl, lying under him.

'What happens to those transferred to N., Mel? What happened to those you hadn't seen for ages when you were leading your comfortable life far away and we had seen worse things than you can even imagine? What happens to millions each year, Mel?'

Melquiades felt silent at the accusations shot at him from the drunk machine gun of a man. 

'I will tell you, old little boy. They are eaten!'

And with that last sentence, he fell on the breasts of the girl he had been playing with all those hours of the feast.

Melquiades looked at Gemma with an inquisitive look. 

'Where have you been?' he asked suspiciously, glimpsing at her over the open book.

'Outside,' she answered innocently, not looking at him in the eye.

'You're often outside these days. Have you got any friends? Maybe a boy?'

'A boy? Why do you think so?'

'I don't think about anything. You simply remind me of my brother and he wasn't the type to spend his evenings at home.'

'Maybe YOU should spend your evenings outside. At least some of them. You're always working.'

'I had my time of rest, you see. It's not that bad to work at my age. It makes me active.'

Gemma believed that it was true. She saw Melquiades wake up in the morning and fall asleep at midnight bolder than ever. He would make kids sheltered and safe, he would organize schools and right now he was taking care of law and justice. And commerce, even though that was out of the question due to N.'s interference. After a couple of years, K. seemed to Gemma less wild just as Adam seemed to be more of a human than a cave man he used to be. And that was solely her own effort.

'You are good to K.' said Gemma honestly, sitting next to him and patting his shoulder. 

'I have a debt to pay. I'm no better than any citizen of K. If I hadn't gone abroad back then when I was young, the same would have happened to me. Don't you realize, Gemma, this house would lodge thirty girls such as yourself and I would take advantage of them all. That's the sad truth.'

Gemma looked at him with a sense of lost trust. She considered him a better man than those who paid them regular visits.

'But why are you acting as if you wanted to help us?'

'I do want to help you. But my couple of years won't change those fifty of which I wasn't even aware. And I want to change at least one more unpleasant fate of your people. You're almost eighteen, my dear. It's high time I sent you to N.'.

 Gemma gasped. She knew this moment would approach but she didn't know it would be so soon. Now everything was different. She understood more and knew more. She got used to this house, Melquiades and the area. She got really attached to Adam, who was hiding in the forest in the shed they had both built. And was she to leave all of it and move to a place she knew nothing of? 

Melquiades made her stay inside for weeks and she couldn't even talk to Adam and tell him that she would soon go. The old man taught her how to dress like a woman, how to paint her face and how to behave with grace and dignity. She was trying hard but she felt that such behavior didn't make her feel in her element. She learned how to use cutlery and manners at the table. Melquiades made her walk with her back straight and wash at least once a day. He combed her long hair and put oil on it so that it would be straight and shiny. 
A week before her final departure, when Melquiades fell asleep, Gemma left her room and, as quiet as a mouse, she sneaked to the woods to find Adam and discuss with him her future leave. With Melquiades they decided that despite the progress of her mission, she would come back to K. at least once a month to report to him, thus the visits were to be treated as opportunities to see Adam, apart from making Melquiades satisfied. For now, however, she was both anxious and stressed, and even though she was prepared to go, her body seemed to oppose her, as she would wake up at night after a bad dream or she couldn't sleep at all. 
'Gemma, you shouldn't be awake at this time,' Melquiades seemed to be really worried about her state 'Listen, your move to N. involves stages. I want you to have time to adjust. It won't happen too soon. And for sure you won't even face Jacob. You're far too young.'
Gemma was silent. She had her one small bag packed with memories of her childhood, words of farewell already given to Adam and she was waiting for tomorrow's train. Still, she was so nervous as never in her life and the only thing she wanted to do was to throw up, fall asleep and never even need to walk out of bed again. 

But this whole move to N. was easy. Melquiades gave her the ticket and she went on a train. She found her compartment and sat completely alone. After a few hours of a pleasant and peaceful journey, she approached the border and showed her documents.
The ticket inspector measured her from head to toes and smiled.
'Applying for N.'s citizenship?'
Gemma nodded. 
'I believe you will have no problems with accomplishing it.'
Gemma felt comforted. She was afraid that something might come out wrong. When the train got to the station she used another vehicle, something like a bigger car, possibly a truck, that until this moment she had never seen in her life. It had two rows of seats on both sides and an aisle between them. It looked like the buses she used to see in Melquiades' books but it was twice the size. The size meant to make it more comfortable. Through the windows, she could see the views of the countryside, which were to some extent similar to K., but there were no people working in the fields at all. She bought the ticket for the money she got from Melquiades and sat on one of the seats. As they were approaching N., the view changed. There were fewer and fewer fields but now and then one or two beautiful white houses appeared, villas with great gardens and funny-shaped trees. The closer they were to their destination, the bigger was the number of houses she passed, and very soon they changed into enormously high, white blocks of flats with balconies and high glass windows, in fact so high as if half of the buildings had been made of glass. In their windows there were no curtains, so Gemma could see everything that was happening inside. People of N. were laughing and sitting on the sofas in front of small boxes, called TV-sets (of which Gemma was aware due to her careful education). They were talking to each other or enjoying a meal over their round white tables. She could see children in some of the flats, but children were looking way different than children in K. They were well-groomed, neatly dressed and they behaved more like adults than children running around in the streets of K. They were sitting with parents and looking at TV-sets or they were scribbling something on the tables. Gemma looked at the people in the streets as they were strolling along the pavements and chatting to each other. Some were entering places on the lower floors of those blocks of flat and they were walking out of them with bags full of food. There were cars in the streets and every now and then she saw people cycling on bikes. What she had seen in the past in the pictures of Melquiades' books now she could see for herself.  
She had the address written on a piece of paper. Effortlessly she found the building. It was a big white building with seven floors, white doors and white walls on which numbers were inscribed. White clear corridors she crossed reminded her of tunnels at the station she arrived in a couple of hours ago. She approached the registration office and filled in the form. After a while, when she was sitting on a waiting chair in the corridor on the fifth floor, a woman asked her inside.
'Please, sit down,' she said, pointing at the chair, and took Gemma's form. She read it carefully and then reread it again. She smiled.
'I must ask you to undress. I must take some measurements.'
Gemma obediently took off her clothes and the woman measured her waist, legs, arms, stomach, the distance between her head and her shoulders, the size of feet. Then she carefully examined her skin for scars and pimples and she was fairly satisfied. She asked Gemma to put on her clothes again and return to her sitting position. 
'You're eighteen, is that right?'
'Yes, I am eighteen. I had my birthday recently.'
'And who educated you?'
'My grandfather,' Gemma lied 'He was abroad and then he taught me how to read and write.'
'He must be proud. In my family there is a cousin who came here from K. He's an electrical engineer. I personally know two engineers, who despite their looks, were also admitted due to their exceptional skills. Their life is better here.'
Gemma nodded.
'You're young. You're too young to work. I strongly advise you to take some courses and try to find some future career. You're too young to obtain a house, but we will supply you with a flat for your own needs. Fill in this form and I will fetch keys and address.'
Gemma filled in another form and handed it to the woman. She was an attractive brunette with a slim waist and long legs. Gemma felt that she was older but she couldn't tell whether she was in her thirties or forties, she might have been even in her fifties, but her face barely bore the signs of passing time. 
'Don't worry. My son has got a house but he doesn't use it at all. He still wants to live with me. I think that he still hasn't decided on a career to be honest. The flat will just suit you fine. And remember, it is only for a start. If you wish to choose a practical career, you will have many such ones for your own liking. I need one more document for you to sign.'
Gemma was getting used to filling documents.
'Have you got any questions?'
'How often can I visit K.?'
'You want to visit your grandfather, you mean. You can go back once a month for a weekend. Remember that you cannot take anything from N. to K. and the other way round. Also, try to disinfect your clothes after crossing the border for sanitary reasons. Any more questions?'
Gemma didn't have any. The woman smiled and handed her the keys.
'Welcome,' she said and shook her hand firmly 'I hope we will see each other again.'
Gemma took the keys to the flat and took the ride at the given address. She was taking a step back as from the center of N. she was moving to the outskirts. She found a block of flats of ten stores and after filling in another form she was allowed to use the elevator up to the eighth floor. After a five minute walk along a very white and very clean corridor, she found number 844 and opened the door. It was a two-room flat. A living room comprised a sofa, a TV-set, empty shelves, a dinner table, an armchair next to a coffee table and a carpet. There was a big window overlooking a small park and a small balcony. The walls were white and the floors were made of wood. The bedroom was small and able to fit only a bed, a bedside table and a wardrobe. The kitchen wasn't spacious but had all the necessary facilities, including the oven and the fridge, which Gemma had only heard about, as in K. they were baking over stoves and preserving food in cold basements or underground holes. The bathroom had a shower, a toilet, a basin and a big mirror in which Gemma could look at herself when she had such a need. There were no curtains in the flat, and the windows were big enough to enable others to see her from outside. There was even a window in the bathroom, a two-meter high window which allowed to expose her whenever she was taking a shower or using the toilet. Gemma, however, doubted that there would be a lot of curious spectators hanging from the eight floor in mid-air, taking into account that the windows were overlooking the park, not another block. She had a flat for herself. 
She went downstairs and found a small facility which stored food and from which you could take freely whatever you liked to eat. There were a lot of fruit and vegetables, and some substances which were put in cans and bottles of strange smells and strange flavors. There were bottles of water of various colors, even black, blue and orange. Gemma took a sip and was certain that it tasted like a juice but was completely different from the juices she knew. There were also pieces of pink items chopped, cut and placed in white foiled plates, but she didn't take those. She smelled it but the foil suppressed any form of scent. She took what she knew how to prepare and returned to her place.
Cooking in her own kitchen was pleasant as she didn't have to do it for Melquiades and his workmates. She was all by herself. She ate and the following day she decided to find some books to fill the bookshelves.  
After a week Gemma found herself sitting on the sofa in front of the TV-set, watching colorful images of N. There was no mention of K. and the citizens of K. There were stories of problematic loves, barely corresponding psychological profiles causing relationship to shatter and funny short films about eating various kinds of colorful drinks and their beneficial effects. N.'s creativity was admirable, because according to one of such short films after drinking the orange drink, you could instantly have a lot of friends and be less shy in front of the public, while Gemma drank it almost every day, having got used to the flavor, but nothing in her life changed for the better. Cooking in her own kitchen started to be less pleasant but more tiresome as she missed the company of Melquiades who, even if busy, was at least someone to talk to. 
After another week she was looking at the white walls and transparent windows with a desperate and lonesome look. And even though she could come back home once a month, she wanted to be there more often than that.
She got on the train and filled no form on that occasion. No one posed any problems. 

John liked it when his mother took off the frying meat from the pan and put it on his plate. He liked its smell and the sound of the fork and knife against the plate, even though for his mother it was annoying. She was a beautiful woman with a perfect figure, long, black, curly hair and a lovely smile. Her second husband was his father, but as they had divorced, he was brought up by subsequently her third and fourth husband. Now she was alone, but even though over fifty, John thought that she should find someone for the sheer pleasure of company, shared meals and shared evenings. She was still beautiful, she hardly made any corrections of her facial features, chin, and wrinkles around her eyes. She was aging in a very gentle manner. Her belly was flat and you wouldn't have guessed that she gave birth to a child almost thirty years ago. John liked looking at her and imagined that he would like his own woman to have a very similar appeal, both in terms of looks and character.

She, on her part, always treated him like a king, she cooked for him the most delicious meat parts and prepared his shirts for work. He was almost thirty, but time didn't change his mother approach to him, and he still got the most delicious treats on his plate.

He was an intellectual. When at school they had to choose their vocation, he chose the least respected area of science there was, that is K. sciences. He did that out of sheer curiosity. And possibly as a child, he liked his mother's scary tales of K. and that was how his imagination grew. He treated those stories as exciting fairy tales or mythical fables and dreamed for hours about this land, where things were so different. If his mother had known that his interest would have such an impact on his future career, she might have told him completely different stories.
They were living together, even though he had already his own house, but they decided that the property can be left empty and John moved back to his mom's lodgings. Spacious white rooms in a number of five were enough for both of them, even though mother annoyed him when he was studying something carefully and he heard her jogging in the evening. That is why he lived in his own house for a couple of days a month, just to regain his strength and be at peace with himself. And that is why he wanted his mother to find another husband, so the burden of her company would be taken off his shoulders at least temporarily.

He had two friends from school: David was an engineer working with people imported from K., and Kevin was an owner of a big corporation taking care of the food production. David was the manager, but recently he was feeling intimidated, since K. engineers proved to be brainy as hell, and there was a quarrel among them, concerning David's incapability of solving the simplest task. He was depressed and took a month of paid leave just to stay at home and rest from his work's burdens and stresses. Kevin was quite content and his mind was occupied with buying another villa at the seaside with four bedrooms and a bathroom in the size of a small chapel. And John was writing a thesis about the importance of K. population in the growing prosperity of N.

Meanwhile, his mother was preparing a delicious stew which John simply adored.

After writing a page, he felt tired and decided to take a shower in their bathing room for relaxation. It was his third shower that day and it was only noon. He changed his shirt and sat to think about the contents of the second page. His supervisor wanted to get the extract by midnight, even though John was sure, he would read it in the morning. They liked to get people stressed. John supposed that they were themselves stressed and just triggered a chain of stresses, which included John and thanks to that his mother who stopped working ten years ago but inherited John's variable moods.

John was twenty-nine at that time and only started his adventure with K. sciences. He worked from home, simply plugged into the system and sent his work to his supervisor, whom he hadn't even met. He applied for the position and, thanks to his abilities and psychological profile, he got the post and was happy about the salary. After a year of research, he bought a house, which he didn't even need because he was still living with his mother. John really loved his mother. Again, she was a beautiful woman, full of compassion and acceptance of his individuality. She loved his interest in K., even though any ordinary mother would prefer him to work for the company of the size of Kevin's corporation. And again, John had a house. Kevin had five houses and three seaside villas, each for every long weekend throughout the year.

The fact that John was interested in K., he treated as a genuine distinction among the citizens of N., a proof of his human nature and his very grounded, down-to-earth way of living. He felt special and such was his interest in K. He had never had a contact with anyone in K., he had never been there, nor had he seen K. in the pictures but he was interested in the cooperation between K. and N. and the beneficial aspects of it for the whole nation. He heard the stories about engineers, he was a member of a few organizations fighting for the rights of K., including the right to a full meal, the right to shelter and being treated in the most humane and violence-less manner. Whenever there was a need, he would send his used clothes to the charitable funds which would, later on, distribute the gifts to the citizens of K. And each year he gave a small amount of his income for health trusts found in the recognition of K. citizens. He considered himself generous. Kevin and David did no such things.

He knew that there was yet another thing he had to do with his life. He had to find a partner and procreate, as giving at least one progeny was his duty to the society of N. John would many times donate his sperm to the bank to postpone the unpleasant necessity of making a union with a woman, but he felt that he couldn't put it off forever, and at least his visits to the bank would be put to an end if he found the right candidate. He decided to give himself another year and go on with his work, postponing looking for the perfect match to the following year, as by this time he might have gained the right amount of stability, which was expected of him from the day he was born.

Meanwhile, he looked at himself in the mirror. Light hair, blue shiny eyes, impeccable smile. They laughed with his mother that, instead of her looks, he inherited his father's appearance. His mother stated that the doctors must have played with the genes, but she asked for a boy and a boy she got. She didn't remember her second husband much, however, his genes must have been dominant, as John was just like him in many ways. But, all in all, her son was nothing in comparison to her second husband. He was her son and that made so much difference. 
Children should be loved unconditionally. She even wasn't sure if she cared about her second husband at all. Her third one was much more entertaining and they had matching psychological profiles.