The Wanderer

So I decide to leave the arid dunes and penetrate into the jungle. Soon I am walking among a vegetation so dense that almost turns the day into night. There is no trail, but I know where I am headed for. I hear the sounds of monkeys and innumerable birds, and even the near roar of a leopard. Serpents sneak among the greenery. But I have no fear. I proceed.

Suddenly, I hear a peculiar noise, like air reverberating through a pipe. No other animal on the face of Earth could produce it. I am near. I walk with joy. I might use a faster means, but right now I prefer to walk. I have been here before and don't feel anxious, for I know that I can come back whenever I want.

Some minutes later, I eventually reach the muddy lake embedded into the middle of the jungle. An eight-meter neck arises from underwater emitting its singular scream. A colossal body emerges, leaving the water over powerful paws that sink in the sloppy ground. Something must have scared it, I think, for these creatures rarely walk on land. I sight others, farther, half submerged. The natives know them. They call them mokele-mbembe. They have been here for dozens of millions of years, but Science has only found out their fossils. It's a shame I cannot share my knowledge.

I approach the first creature. I walk unnoticed beneath its belly. I stay for some more minutes, observing them. I decide to go.

I ascend slowly, as if taken by the breeze, passing pretty close to the head, which looks more like an enormous rock. It suddenly retreats. It couldn't have seen me, but maybe has noticed me by some way I cannot explain.

I continue ascending, a little faster. The jungle becomes a wide green veil and the lake, just a small encrusted gem which soon disappears under stormy clouds that are forming. Where will I go to? I saw the interior of volcanoes and the depths of oceans. None of them attracts me now. I go faster and faster. I dive into the blackness of space and graze the Moon, having a glimpse from perennial steps and a flag that does not wave.

I go farther, guided just by my thoughts, by my will. I think of Mars. I think of being there, of uncovering its mysteries... I feel an abrupt change in my course and a fantastic acceleration. Earth quickly disappears and I see myself immerse in the void, surrounded by the cold light of distant stars. I feel fear for the first time: fear of not being able to return, of roaming eternally like a piece of rock lost in the Cosmos. I try to avert that feeling and concentrate on my objective, in order not to return before expected.

A red ball comes from nothing and grows rapidly. I fall swiftly towards it. It's Mars! I rapidly cross through its atmosphere. I foolishly think that I am going to be the first man to step on its ground. But how many before shall have come the same way?

It is a special sensation to land on a wholly new world. I run like a child, experiencing the sensation of total freedom. Sensation... How strange that word sounds now!

I regret not being able to bring along research tools. I can't seek for bacteria nor any other microscopic life forms that might still exist here. I look at the sky, dyed in shades of yellow and orange. From the top of a mountain, I see craters and valleys. Everything looks dead and rusty. Well, indeed it is rust that gives the Martian soil that color. What was fascination and excitement are about to become depression. No! That is not a feeling I admit to have during my trips. I avert it with the remembrance of a life evidence I can research: the great face on the surface of Mars, first photographed by the Viking, not known whether carved by Nature or by other hands.

Almost involuntarily, I ascend again, carried by forces I cannot comprehend. I don't need to look for it. My thought conducts me. However, I intentionally slow my trip, prizing the flight among mountains and precipices. I sight pyramids at far and cannot tell whether or not they are natural formations. But I have seen pyramids enough today. I go straight to the big face, which outlines itself before me. I ascend a little more, in order to observe it better, and soar right above it, barely being able to comprise it by sight. My doubts vanish. On the face for millions of years castigated and marred by winds, two serene eyes still seem to look back at me with a complacent expression. I go down in thrill to touch it. I lie down on the right cheek and try to follow his regard towards the sky. The Sun is setting and some stars begin to sparkle. I think on how the planet must have been in the remote past, before it became a huge desert. I think on how its inhabitants lived and how they should have looked like us. Have they really disappeared or... just moved?

The stars multiply on the sky. I think on how many of them shall be suns, with planetary systems like ours and worlds crammed with life. How much to be explored! How much to be known! I think on how I have been foolish, for so long stuck to the Earth.

With no surprise, I notice myself levitating once more. A new voyage is about to begin, and my being exults in anticipation. Nevertheless, suddenly I hear a tenuous voice call my name, from far away. Not now!, I think with a certain irritation, when I feel a tug in my nape. The silver string contracts like an elastic which had been stretched up to its limit, and swiftly drags me back to Earth—back to my damned body.

The big, blue, beautiful eyes of Amanda look at me with compassion, and I realize that the stars can wait. Delicate hands cherish my face. I feel anguish for not being able to retribute her gesture.

—Grandpa, why don't you speak to me?—says the girl, in a very low voice, not expecting for any answer, kneeling beside the wheelchair.

If I only could tell her not to feel pity for me! If I could tell her about what I have known, seen and learned in these last years...

I try to speak. But I cannot move one single muscle!

I see the tears run over her rounded cheeks. I feel them bud in my eyes too.