I think you have seen enough documentaries to know what happened next. I could recommend you a few if you want, but it is pretty much everywhere or whenever. There was no place to hide, so like my parents, I got caught.
Each of us got on a different train, and I never saw them again since that day. The only thing I''m sure of is, at least on my first timeline, they didn''t survive. I searched for them in others, but in some, they never even existed. So, I have no idea if things could have been different for them.
Like an idiot, I was trapped in the bathroom, beaten, handcuffed and taken to Neuengamme Camp. It wasn''t a long trip, and it wasn''t pleasant either. We were treated as cattle. And I''m being nice.
Once I arrived, I was put in a barrack with some other kids. It was cramped, and there was not enough bed for everyone or floor and no sanitary accommodations whatsoever. A five-star nazi-ritz. Bad joke, I know.
But then we were told that this was our new and last home. We had no way out, only by the chimney. It didn''t take us long to understand what they meant. So there was no use for hope. No escape from this nightmare. That''s what they did to all of us, to me.
Eske walked the camp with a bucket and a mop toward the research lab facilities. He liked to work on the labs building. It was the camp''s cleanest area and the one with fewer soldiers torching prisoners. People with white coats were nicer, or so he thought.
It seemed like Eske knew how to do his job well. He kept a very low profile while trying hard to get through each day without being noticed by the guards. One of the gate guards liked to play the Sodoku games. A short chubby man who would always start his shift every morning with a newspaper. Just for the small pleasure of scribbling over the puzzle. But when he was stuck, he would call Eske to help resolve the mystery of numbers. He would clear each square in less than a minute with all the correct numbers in the proper order.
''I still don''t know how you do this.''; the guard would say each time. Eske was always expecting some sort of reward. Clean water, bread or even half a potato but nothing. Just kind words that still didn''t fill his belly.
''What is going on here?''; a man with a white coat stopped next to the guard and Eske, who tried to see his way out.
''This boy can solve this damn puzzle in seconds!''; he said, showing the man the newspaper. ''Isn''t that impressive?''
He turned, looking at the boy trying to hide behind a mop and bucket, and asked: ''You did this?''
''It is quite easy.''
''How?''
Eske swallowed dry. How could he say the numbers sang to him, pointing directions, sounds and stories? ''I can hear numbers.''; he mumbled.
''You do?''; he grabbed Eske''s arm and pointed to his mark: ''What does it tell you?''
He didn''t want to say. His numbers hide a secret passage, a sound of peace and warmth. Something new, in something old, with something borrowed. The chirring of birds, the laughter of a child and her voice. ''Good morning, love of my life!''; the soft voice of hope and a dream that hasn''t been wished for yet. ''Is just static.''; he lied.
''Pity, the Professor could have been interested in you.''; he said, releasing his arm.
''Please excuse me, I still have the officers restroom to clean.''; he bowed his head and tried to hast his step when the man called him.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
''Boy!''
''Umm, yes?''
''Tomorrow morning, present yourself to the lab.'' Eske understood it was not a request but an order.
Eske couldn''t sleep that night, not because his stomach was empty or the floor was full of gravel, dirt or piss. But a pierce in his gut told him that he would never leave the laboratory hereafter. He would die like a lab rat, thrown into the furnace and swiped as ashes. Eske could feel something strange inside himself, fear. That same feeling when you''re falling down an endless pit with no way up except for the hole itself. He had been a prisoner in the camp for three years, maybe four years, but he had never felt this terror. Never!
He felt cold, colder than ever before. The only thing that kept him from crying out loud was his mother''s last words to him, ''I''m sorry.'' she whispered as she had her hand tangled in his. He knew he would die, but he was not sure why. Or even if it matters.
First thing in the morning, he was escorted to an office in the main building. A man with a white coat was waiting for him, looking outside the ample windows, showing men and women carrying buckets of metal. The man seemed entertained with the suffering of others. Nothing good could come of it.
''Sit.''; the man ordered. His voice sounded calm and gentle.
Eske sat on the only chair he could see, with a breakfast plate in front of him. Buttery omelette, cheese, oatmeal covered with honey, cinnamon, and a glass of orange. Eske could feel his mouth almost drooling.
''How do you take your tea?''; asked the doctor.
Eske looked at his hands. They were shaking so hard. He didn''t know what to say. His heart was pounding so loudly in his chest that he thought the man heard it. ''Simple.''; he dared to answer.
The doctor nodded, smiling kindly.
''Very well.'' Then the man took out a small black box and opened its lid. Inside there was a collection of tea bags.
''Now,'' said the man, taking one of the cups and pouring some liquid into it. He handed it to Eske, who drank it immediately without hesitation. ''You can eat. I requested that breakfast, especially for you.''
His eyes widened: ''Thank you.'' The professor smiled again but only spoke once Eske finished eating all the food.
When Eske swallowed the last bit, the man asked: ''Better?'' asked the man, looking at his face.
''Yes,'' answered Eske.
The professor put away the cup: ''So, let''s start from the beginning. What is your name?''
Eske started to recite: ''159265359''
''Your name, boy.''
''Eske.''; he replied.
''Eske what?''
''Esk... esk-esk'', he repeated, trying to pronounce his own name properly. ''Eske Otto Schrodinger.''
The man sighed. ''Ahh yes, very good.''; said the professor while scribbling in a folder with the label Edenreich.
''When were you born?''
Eske hesitated. ''Fourteen years ago.''
''Very good, very good.''; the man looked at him with a stern hazel gaze and asked: ''Do you know when are you from?''
''You mean where?''
The doctor closed the file and placed it on top of the desk. ''That''s okay.''; he paused for a moment. ''You are an extraordinary boy Eske, and I want to have some experiences with you. What do you think?''
''What experience?''
''Our future, our past, our present and our death.''; the man smiled and added: ''I believe you can see it all.''
''I can''t.''; Eske shook his head, regretting suddenly to have eaten so much. Feeling as if making a pact with the devil. ''I just hear numbers, is just like pieces of sounds all mixed up.''
''Don''t worry, I''ll help you. I will train your earring, what do you say? Will you help me to map time?''; the man presented the broad smile of a visionary, but something wasn''t right. Something was off. Eske couldn''t say what exactly. But it was being craved in his bones.
''Are you going to use my body as a guinea pig?''
''No!'' exclaimed the man, startled by the question. ''You are going to like it. Three meals a day, your own room, and fun little exercises. Is better than cleaning german shit.''
''You are not german?''
''Of course not. Do I look german?''
''I don''t know.''; Eske frowned.
''Well, Eske, you are an exceptional boy, and I give you that.'' Eske nodded slowly, knowing what the man meant. ''But you need to trust me. You and I will save the world. We''ll do great things together.''
Eske tried to get up, but the man held him back. ''Stay seated, please. My turn to present me properly.''; and as the man''s lips moved in slow motion, a crawling, rippling cold drop on Eske''s spine. He didn''t know why at the time.
''My name is Delbert Day Whiterabbit. Nice to meet you, Schrodinger.''