The man took the initiative and moved backwards, slowly and calmly with his stare fixed on me, but in a friendly manner, as if inviting me to get in...
-- You were expecting me --- he did not ask, he just said it. His Spanish had a little accent
-- You may call me Jesús --
I swallowed and came in -- I guess you know who I am. Jesús nodded. I could feel the awkward silence coming, so I asked -- do you want something for dinner? -- he just smiled so slightly -- I guess I will get the news better if I am not hungry.
Once the initial surprise started to wind down, I took a closer look at Jesús, I mean I had acknowledged him, but not I was looking at him. "Jesús" was a little taller than me and he was rather pale. not waxy or pinkish, just pale. His face was a little squared with a prominent nose flanked by deep eyes which seemed to be always a little closed, not really squinting but scrutinizing and topped with prominent and bushy eyebrows, wheat color. The lips were thin and the mouth small in a carefully shaved face and big cheekbones. Atop of all that was more wheat hair, cut very short and framed with flat ears. He did not look particularly pumped, but the neck was thick and the sweater was roomy, but you could see that the frame was solidly built. He was wearing jeans and Timberlands... which I guess is also a choice in Madrid.
I left the keys on the wood at the entrance. There was a small metal dish for the keys, but it was full with coins, all small copper cent coins,very rusty, some semi disintegrated rubber bands and some other totally useless stuff that we had gathered over the time. So the key always went on top of the wood... except when the landlord came to visit.
I took my jacket off and I left my backpack in the living room. Diego was not there and I was supposed to have the living room, so it was going to be MY living room. Now there would not be dining in shorts before the TV, that was gone, but on the positive side, we could use saving money on heating. I motioned Jesús to get comfy and asked him whether he would like to share dinner then
-- why not?-- he did not seem to be very talkative.
After the offering, I though I might have been a little overoptimistic, as the status of my pantry was not the best. Foraging into Diego's was always an option, but aside of yogurt and cookies I was not expecting to find anything, and that was on the best days. As in any new and confusing situation, there is nothing else to get busy on something else, at best totally meaningless, so I busied myself with putting together and acceptable salad with some chicken. Jesús showed what I soon would learn to be a strong skill on him, patience. He waited until I got myself sorted out.
While I went on to cut tomatoes, Jesús started to speak, slowly and calmly. He had a English accent in Spanish, sure enough, but his Spanish was heavily influenced by South American Spanish. I could not pinpoint it, perhaps even Mexican. Perhaps Colombia? I found it funny that he used the name "plata" for money, perhaps because of him looking very British... What he was actually saying was that he was going to be my teacher, trainer and coach to help me launch the next phase of the project. He did not put dates anywhere and I did not ask.
As I moved into cutting the chicken breasts, Jesús started to talk about the plan he had in storage for us.
Firsts things first, we had to train what he called operational movement. we were not doing anything illegal, at least of yet, but there was no need to go on and show it around. We had to keep a low profile and put enough barriers in place, in case somebody came nosing around.
We had to do some counter-vigilance and intelligence, in order to go on and actively recruit people. We were not going to put ads in 4Chan. The first tier to draw candidates from would be my own contacts and expand from there. It was not only about getting friends here, but selecting people among a trusted circle. Those who could be useful for the project at more than one level.
Once recruiting got going, we had to train and prepare these people and at the same time, prepare for the incoming apocalypse. I mean this in a literal meaning, not religious but hey, the society and world as we knew was going to melt down.
Listening to Jesús I was starting to imagine the incoming future as a mixture of old movies, from Mad Max, the man with one red shoe, Funeral in Berlin and Charade, with touches of An Italian Job. At any rate I was Michael Caine though... and Jesús was sure far from Audrey Hepburn.
Once I was done with the chicken breasts, Jesús helped me taking everything to the living room, where our dinner table was. The kitchen was way too small to have any table there, though I often did eat there, standing up, when I was alone.
Once we sat, Jesús carried on with his talking. I had to learn a bunch of new skills, I had to increase my awareness on what was going on and learn tools and methods to process that. To be able to recognize potential dangers and learn to understood the environment around me. Easy and obvious you say. You arrive in a new city and the train is very full. Is it rush hour, football match, demonstration? It is a blend of information beforehand and processing the information at hand.
-- You were expecting me --- he did not ask, he just said it. His Spanish had a little accent
-- You may call me Jesús --
I swallowed and came in -- I guess you know who I am. Jesús nodded. I could feel the awkward silence coming, so I asked -- do you want something for dinner? -- he just smiled so slightly -- I guess I will get the news better if I am not hungry.
Once the initial surprise started to wind down, I took a closer look at Jesús, I mean I had acknowledged him, but not I was looking at him. "Jesús" was a little taller than me and he was rather pale. not waxy or pinkish, just pale. His face was a little squared with a prominent nose flanked by deep eyes which seemed to be always a little closed, not really squinting but scrutinizing and topped with prominent and bushy eyebrows, wheat color. The lips were thin and the mouth small in a carefully shaved face and big cheekbones. Atop of all that was more wheat hair, cut very short and framed with flat ears. He did not look particularly pumped, but the neck was thick and the sweater was roomy, but you could see that the frame was solidly built. He was wearing jeans and Timberlands... which I guess is also a choice in Madrid.
I left the keys on the wood at the entrance. There was a small metal dish for the keys, but it was full with coins, all small copper cent coins,very rusty, some semi disintegrated rubber bands and some other totally useless stuff that we had gathered over the time. So the key always went on top of the wood... except when the landlord came to visit.
I took my jacket off and I left my backpack in the living room. Diego was not there and I was supposed to have the living room, so it was going to be MY living room. Now there would not be dining in shorts before the TV, that was gone, but on the positive side, we could use saving money on heating. I motioned Jesús to get comfy and asked him whether he would like to share dinner then
-- why not?-- he did not seem to be very talkative.
After the offering, I though I might have been a little overoptimistic, as the status of my pantry was not the best. Foraging into Diego's was always an option, but aside of yogurt and cookies I was not expecting to find anything, and that was on the best days. As in any new and confusing situation, there is nothing else to get busy on something else, at best totally meaningless, so I busied myself with putting together and acceptable salad with some chicken. Jesús showed what I soon would learn to be a strong skill on him, patience. He waited until I got myself sorted out.
While I went on to cut tomatoes, Jesús started to speak, slowly and calmly. He had a English accent in Spanish, sure enough, but his Spanish was heavily influenced by South American Spanish. I could not pinpoint it, perhaps even Mexican. Perhaps Colombia? I found it funny that he used the name "plata" for money, perhaps because of him looking very British... What he was actually saying was that he was going to be my teacher, trainer and coach to help me launch the next phase of the project. He did not put dates anywhere and I did not ask.
As I moved into cutting the chicken breasts, Jesús started to talk about the plan he had in storage for us.
Firsts things first, we had to train what he called operational movement. we were not doing anything illegal, at least of yet, but there was no need to go on and show it around. We had to keep a low profile and put enough barriers in place, in case somebody came nosing around.
We had to do some counter-vigilance and intelligence, in order to go on and actively recruit people. We were not going to put ads in 4Chan. The first tier to draw candidates from would be my own contacts and expand from there. It was not only about getting friends here, but selecting people among a trusted circle. Those who could be useful for the project at more than one level.
Once recruiting got going, we had to train and prepare these people and at the same time, prepare for the incoming apocalypse. I mean this in a literal meaning, not religious but hey, the society and world as we knew was going to melt down.
Listening to Jesús I was starting to imagine the incoming future as a mixture of old movies, from Mad Max, the man with one red shoe, Funeral in Berlin and Charade, with touches of An Italian Job. At any rate I was Michael Caine though... and Jesús was sure far from Audrey Hepburn.
Once I was done with the chicken breasts, Jesús helped me taking everything to the living room, where our dinner table was. The kitchen was way too small to have any table there, though I often did eat there, standing up, when I was alone.
Once we sat, Jesús carried on with his talking. I had to learn a bunch of new skills, I had to increase my awareness on what was going on and learn tools and methods to process that. To be able to recognize potential dangers and learn to understood the environment around me. Easy and obvious you say. You arrive in a new city and the train is very full. Is it rush hour, football match, demonstration? It is a blend of information beforehand and processing the information at hand.
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