“Next Sunshine”

by Jonay Quintero Hernández

Many of you, youngsters, may have heard about the old barbería beneath the ancient bridge in Valverde, but I’m sure none of you ever got a deep cut behind the right ear, executed (I can’t find a more suitable word for the occasion) by elderly don Claudio. “What the f–k do you think you’re doing, you old bloody mommy? You think we’re in a bullfight and you want to get my ear and tail, don’t you?”

“Nnno, sirrr, Nnnnnot at all. Ppplease accept my sincere apologies,” the aged barber managed to mumble while pressing a piece of cotton, moistened in a dubious liquid, against the injury. He kept on trying to utter more assertive words, but in his stuttering he ended up shooting them out like a rusty machine gun. We had many of those on the El Ebro front. Don Claudio was more than humiliated, but I couldn’t stop teasing him. I’d just returned from the war, and at that time didn’t feel like myself anymore. Somehow I still don’t.

He looked at my uniform fiercely, and I just felt like taking revenge. “How does it feel to be on the losing side?” The old man looked down at the floor, expecting something very bad to happen with the outbreak of my wrath. Don Claudio belonged to a group of leftist supporters on the island of El Hierro. When King Alfonso XIII left Spain and the Second Republic was declared in 1931, many members of the anarchist, socialist and communist parties thought that it was their time.

They turned our traditions and all that resembled the Catholic faith or the monarchy into their shooting targets. There were beatings, lynchings; they broke crosses and desecrated graves at the cemeteries. All that we considered sacred was the target of their hate. I remember very well being spat at when coming out of church after Sunday’s mass.

I guess my family and I were “on the wrong side of history.” We went to church every Sunday, took communion, gave donations, participated in all the festivities, just like the majority of our neighbors had done for the last 5 centuries on our island. My parents were humble peasants, and we used to work the lands of well-off landowners from Valverde, who were more educated than us, read books and had very modern progressive ideas, while at the same time looking down on us, the people they considered reactionary, but still wanted to protect.

“Not so long ago, I was an anvil and you were a very tough hammer, but the tables seem to have turned. How does it feel to be an anvil yourself now, huh?” I blurted out furiously and left the barber shop without a word.

My father had taught me that during civil wars all the vindictive people, the envious ones, the jealous ones, that is, all the mediocre individuals of any town burst out like black flowers in an uncertain spring to take revenge on all the targets of their dark feelings. In the years after the war all those guys appeared out of nowhere, trying to cash in past debts they considered unpaid. But I wasn’t like them and never will be.

Nobody wins a civil war. It’s impossible. But all those who believed they were untouchable by this universal law pointed with their accusing fingers at the neighbors they envied and hated the most. Little did they know back then how much they would regret those accusations during the rest of their lives.

Of course there were acts of revenge. All the shootings, lynchings and beatings that one side suffered before the war, during the Republic, and in the war, were returned by the other side after the war – with greater ferocity. I guess the victors did nothing that the communist wouldn’t have done to us if they had won. But that was meager consolation.

It seemed that we Catholics had managed to preserve our lives, those of our families and our faith, but unfortunately we would lose all the rest. We would have to suffer a 40-year dictatorship, and, after that, the public, movie industry and culture, politicians and almost everyone else would call us fascists, criminals, far right and even worse things. None of the combatants in the Spanish Civil war were given the choice of picking sides – on either, you could get a bullet in your head if you deserted. But sometimes I have fantasized about what our lives would be like if the reds had won. How we would have managed to live under a communist dictatorship. “Extremes are bad,” said mom. “And extremes go so far that sometimes they even touch each other.”

I, personally, was fed up with the war, the killings, the absurd revenge taken and all the subsequent wicked things that went hand in hand with every atrocity. I tried to the best of my ability not to transmit this hatred to my son Edelmiro and talked to him about his granny and her teachings, which had shaped my character. She used to say, “always obey the king, respect the law and the authority and behave properly. There is more dignity in obeying than in commanding. Be humble, pray to God and work hard, pay taxes and save for tomorrow.” It doesn’t sound like Aristotle, Schopenhauer or Kant but all those basic, simple rules seem to have worked very well for me.

Of course, she said many more things. If given the choice, she preferred talking to being quiet.

Unfortunately, those rules didn’t work so well for my brother Restituto, my son Edelmiro and other members of the family.

The road to hell is paved with golden cobbles, wide, and teeming with thousands of people who follow it singing, laughing and joking, completely ignorant of their final destination. However, the road to heaven is like a winding, narrow path, full of stones and very steep. That’s what Francisco de Quevedo wrote four centuries ago in his famous work “The dreams.” I hope my beloved ones will be able to divert their paths toward better ones.

Many neighbors in the village, when they learned about my pregnancy, compared me with Sarah, Abraham’s wife, who got pregnant when she was a hundred years old or something like that. Others compared Edelmiro and me with Joaquin and Ana, Jesus’s grandparents. Frankly, I can’t say which of the two compliments I like best, but I’m sure I’ve heard insults much less insulting.

Despite being stunned at first, both of us were really happy about this pregnancy. We had thought this was an episode of our lives that had closed – being parents, I mean. Now we had to face this new twist of fate. Amelia, my elder daughter, was amazed, yet also really happy, since now, apart from her own daughter, she would have a new baby sister to spoil. The poor thing had felt somewhat lonely and longed for a sister or brother her whole life. At least she was finally going to have one as a grown adult. This prompted Amelia to say that she deserved the prerogative to choose a name for her sister: it was a beautiful traditional name from the Canary Islands.

So we called our new daughter Dara.

III

“We hear lots of horrid stories these days. Rioting, looting, fires and broken glass everywhere. Allegedly representatives of the far right affirm that the unrest was triggered by several knife attacks perpetrated by members of the Muslim community. The Islamic Self-Defense League patrols the streets, escorted by the police to prevent fascist attacks on their mosques and shops.

Moreover, the police had to act in order to control Antifa groups that were expected to confront far-right demonstrators across the whole city. Police spokespersons say that the state police is overwhelmed. The prime minister called for the public to calm down in her speech on TV.”

“Recent research conducted at the University of Cambridge provides evidence of the importance of polarization and extremism in social networks and the mass media. Fake news and disinformation play an essential role in foreign government’s social engineering strategies to destabilize the West. Hate language in the social networks should be prosecuted by new regulations issued this month at the Spanish Congress.”

“Protesters encircled the European parliament at Strasbourg; some tried to enter the hemicycle but have been arrested by the police…”

The Complutense University of Madrid, especially its Faculty of Political Science, has been a stronghold of revolutionary and leftist ideas since the late years of Franco’s dictatorship and over the last 60 years of democracy. New ideas, public debates and very insightful conversations used to take place in every corner of the old college building, and not only during classes. The atmosphere captivated me from the very beginning: there are faculties of political science in the Canary Islands too, but I knew that the core of national political life was in Madrid, and I admit that I was also attracted to the huge cities of Europe so apparently ferocious and full of conflict. My parents knew that sooner or later I would leave the nest and fly away, but deep in their hearts they harbored the hope that I would study something like agricultural engineering, veterinary or human medicine, nursing, teaching or something like that, and stay in El Hierro. My parents are really the best: one cannot think of progenitors more supportive and affectionate than them. At the same time, they encouraged me to be free, think for myself, be independent and never tried to force me to take one path or another.

However, since childhood I couldn’t help but wonder why people act in a certain way, or how different societies are organized. I wondered why wars start over and over again between countries or inside the same country; why some countries are successful, and others fail; what the true sources of evil are… I asked myself, and others, too many questions. Dad had told me once that I would have loved my grandpa (his dad) because he was always talking about those issues, although curiously enough he always used his own mother, my great grandmother Ofelia, as a source of wisdom. My grandpa’s name was Antonio, but unfortunately I never had the chance to meet either Ofelia or Antonio.

Either way, I decided to exchange the soft hills and the green terraced plots of land where fig, peach, pears, lemon and orange trees grew in my home village, El Mocanal, on the island of El Hierro, for Madrid’s wide streets clogged with traffic.

I lived in a shared apartment with two roommates, one of them, Maria, was also my best friend, was getting a degree in neuroscience and engaged in very interesting research on how to save the human brain’s thoughts, dreams and feelings.

“Daraaaaa!, Daritaaaaaaaaaaa! Wooooooh! Yeaaaaaah! We made it! We finally made it!” – Maria couldn’t stop screaming. Yet, suddenly, pulling herself together, she changed her expression from happy to serious and grave and said: “Hey listen, listen, don’t tell anyone, it still isn’t published. We don’t want anyone to copy our findings…. Listen, today, we’ve been able to record a human’s perception of things. We have seen what people see as if we were inside their heads. We’ve recorded somebody’s dreams and memories. We can even play images inside people’s minds! Can you believe it!!!”

“Well, I’m happy for you, since you’ve worked so hard… You are going to be famous I think, and rich, no? Then you’ll have to treat me to a long trip to the Caribbean or something. No, no, the trip to Bali we planned last summer! Remember?” I was aware that I was reacting a bit childishly and shallowly to María’s discoveries, but I just wanted to distract myself from the lugubrious thought of that whole thing about “playing images inside people’s minds.”

“Ok, fine I see you are very interested in what I’ve just told you. I come to you with the greatest discovery ever in human history and all you care about is a trip to Bali….”

“Oh! Come on! Don’t be so self-defensive with me! I was just joking. You haven’t received the Nobel Prize yet and you’re already so serious and dignified. You know I love you the most. I’m your best friend, and your success is like mine. It’s just that… I’ve been reading a lot lately about totalitarian regimes and polarization and extremism in societies… I wonder… how your new invention would affect that….”

“Every new discovery can be used for good or for bad…”

“Yes, you are right…”

I’m not going to lie. I had greater expectations for the afterlife and I’m finding it hard not to be disappointed. Well, I assume I’m dead because for quite a while I’ve been unable to see my beloved wife Olimpia and my tiny little boy Edelmiro. All I can see is a continuous fog – so thick that I can’t see four meters – and a never-ending, flat gray floor above, which I’m continuously walking below. I’ve walked for miles to see if there is an end, but to no avail. A bad sign. Sometimes I find other people, but they seem to be as ignorant as me. We chat a little – until we get tired of each other and then go our separate ways. Everyone is apparently obsessed with their own personal problems.

It seems obvious that it’s just myself that keeps me tied to this place, but I cannot seem to figure out the exact reason why. From time to time I talk to an old man, limping with a baton. His name is Marcial.

Don Marcial seems to be the only one who knows what this whole thing is about.

“Good day, Antonio!” – “Hey look, here he is…” – “How are you feeling today? Still anxious? Ignore it and take it easy; everything must pass…” “Good morning, don Marcial.”

“How are you doing today?” the old man asks, as if I had something to do over here. “Well, you see, I have my moments…” – “Look Antonio, you very often ask me a lot of questions about this place and about many other things…” – “Yes, are we in hell? Am I here because of the things I did at war?” – “Not exactly, Antonio, God forgave you for that long before you were dead. You are the one who seems to have not forgiven yourself yet…” – “I see… and what should I do?”

“Listen Antonio, you have also asked me questions about your boy, Edelmiro” – ”So?…” – “He is now reaching old age but left the bad life a long time ago. He found a very special woman, returned to El Mocanal, and now you have a granddaughter who is one of a kind…and I’m not saying that as a compliment. She really is one of a kind, since there will be no one else like her. And no one could fulfill the mission we have been thinking of assigning to her. Very nasty things are happening in the world, Antonio, and we are going to need you to whisper in your granddaughter’s ears the things she might have to do….”

“Good morning and wake up to a new excellent day. Now you can disconnect your e-brain terminal and do some stretches and enjoy a nice breakfast. Have a good day and always remember to think positively!!”

You won’t believe how much I have cursed Maria for starting this whole nightmare…

And I can’t even boast to her, “I hate to say that I told you so…” as she now belongs to a superior tier of society. Oops! I forgot to mention that “this brave new world” is divided into tiers depending not only on level of income but also allegiance to the new regime and the work they do.

Brilliant, no doubt! If you have seen any dystopian movies from the last 30 or 40 years they all seem like a poor script for the life this planet lives nowadays. You won’t miss any of the stereotypes. We’ve got thought police, massive subliminal manipulation, the introduction of false memories, spying on the most intimate thoughts for the sake of blackmailing, you name it. Nobody dares point to the possible reasons, but suicides are at an all-time high, drug consumption too, and the list goes on. This technology was sold to the public as a possible cure for all these conditions, but apparently it has worsened everything.

Who controls this new regime? Hedge fund investors? The Soros, Rothschilds, Rockefellers? The illuminati, the masonry? Who knows? Probably an admixture of all of them or quite probably a fight among them, that’s why the instructions they give to the public are sometimes so contradictory.

I had to undergo the humiliation of having an e-brain socket installed at the base of my skull. I did it under a promise of trans humanistic eternal life but also under a not so evident threat to my life. Luckily enough, my cousin Pancho, who works as an electronic technician, built me a device that you connect to the e-brain and emulates a human brain. Fortunately, nobody seems to have noticed so far. There’s a group of rebels who fight the new regime and, among other things, cheat by using this device. They have generated a small fortune for cousin Pancho, since his device goes for a high price on the black market.

Nonetheless, I hear something like a faraway voice that whispers things in my ears. I know it is not the regime because something inside tells me that the one who speaks to me is someone very familiar, even though I don’t know who it can be. Maybe it is a trick by the ministry of truth to check whether I am using their filthy e-brain…

VII

Last night I got the chills, since the new voices in my head were especially insistent. I went to the bathroom, and when I looked at the mirror, there was a man behind me. That scene is scary in Hollywood horror movies; in real life you can imagine it is even more so…

I was so nervous I couldn’t sleep. I was terrified by those voices in my head. I thought that the regime had finally broken me, and I would commit suicide at some point… but in the end I was so tired that I had to give up and fell asleep.

“Hey, listen sweetheart, I’m your grandpa Antonio, father of Edelmiro, your dad. We never had the chance to meet each other… and I’m sorry about that. I’ve been appointed for a specific purpose: to convince you to perform a very important task for the whole of mankind. When you wake up you will connect to the e-brain and….” – “No way. I won’t do that!” – “Hey, listen, love, nothing bad will happen, as the e-brain has no effect on you. You don’t know it because you have never connected to it, but you are the only one with the power to influence others through the e-brain network. Mankind as a whole connects to the e-brain network at night, and you will send them a message from don Marcial that I’m about to repeat to you…” – “Who is don Marcial?” – “That doesn’t really matter right now, you just listen and try to remember… Extremes go so far that they sometimes touch. Unite, stay in the middle. Think of what unites us and not about what separates us. There is a life after this one. But here is where you have to be free, happy and care about those around you. No person can be happy alone. You need all those around you.” – “Oh! That’s beautiful grandpa!” – “Listen there’s more. The wheat among all the flowers has chosen the poppy, and I choose my Dolores, Dolores, Lolita, Lola…”

“What?” – “Hum, well you can forget about the last thing, but no doubt it was a magnificent song…”

VIII

No question about it. Today is a day that future generations will remember. All the people around the world, just like that one individual, are destroying their e-brain devices. For the first time in history, the human species has decided to step back from technological progress and despise a scientific and technological advancement. For the first time, humans seem to have discovered what really matters and to have chosen to live complete real lives instead of buying into the false dreams the e-brain had to offer.

The regime buildings are on fire everywhere and people are dancing in the streets of every important city, village and town on planet Earth….