Chapter 1 II

The rest of the days went quite fast. The main target of my trip was to carry on some testing. We had some concepts we had toyed with and we wanted to test them. None of us was very optimistic about them and thus we skip inviting the client along. We labeled them as "internal trials". As it turned out, I spent a good deal of the first day butchering the little German I knew and asking for translations for the rest, following mazes of wires from sensors to yellowed out prehistoric computers from which grease was often dripping. All to make sure that we were getting data and preferably plausible data. Only then we could start recording the data.

Obviously, because this is one of those things you have to do, we had made a plan of what we wanted to test, how did we want to test it and in which order. As usually, 5 minutes after getting your safety glasses, it was clear what we could not measure, what could not be done at the time, that this or that sensor was not suitable for that measurement that was so critical and my personal favorite; that computer over there does not seem to be communicating with that other on the same time basis... the test themselves are often a few minutes affair. Getting there is what is complicated. 

It was not until the evenings, when I could allow my mind to go back to the odd incident of the first night. For at least one hour every evening, when I was back to the hotel. I went through the file, which turned out (perhaps now for you unsurprisingly) to be the archive of our IRC chats, during and after Napster times.

Boone and I were not exactly friends. Well, with today's perspective, it might sound odd to talk about "people you meet in internet" as an exotic thing, but in the mid 90s it was something very new, for which we were not ready. To exchange a couple of messages about when are you online and  what are you going to upload is not a whole lot. However since you are sitting in the privacy of your room, feeling all nice and safe you start getting deeper. References about the music you love lead to talk about more personal stuff and then, with time and daily contact, you end up "knowing" this person a little. Whether that is friendship I let you to decide.

Napster went bust in 2001 and fairly quickly we lost contact. I went to other sources of music  and such. At the end of the chat files, there where a couple of emails we exchanged in 2002, in February apparently. I talked about my exams period and he was talking about him working with some mathematicians in order to design and implement analysis code, that is automated code to evaluate data. I chuckled a bit, because that could be of help on what I had currently spent the day on. Then nothing from John Boone until a few days back. Was he complete bananas? why had he come to me like that? what was all that about? I mean that number of the super Spy and the fucking Mr. Roberts?
 
The highway that takes you to  Vienna Airport is a well traveled road, rich on that highway animal, the lorry or, the semi or whatever you want to call it. The continuous stream from Austria to East Europe may seem daunting to the untrained driver. Nevertheless, local taxi drivers are all but untrained and not so easily daunted. They use the "fighter pilot" tactic, which consist on driving unpredictably and never hold the same relative position to anything else on the road for any measurable amount of time. They will speed up the shoulders at the least of windows and will take advantage of every horsepower. On this driving mode, the wing mirrors are just a measure of how wide the vehicle is. After 25 stressing (for me) minutes of relaxed chat (for the driver) I was happy to say goodby and asked him for a receipt " Eine Rechnung, bitte" for my expenses and headed for the terminal, where I was about to follow the cumbersome procedure that ends up (all going well) on you climbing on a plane.

Vienna's airport is a little different from what you usually find in Euripe. The free access area before the first security check is tiny and uncomfortable. After that you are in a high density populated area. Populated by shops,that is, which is well exploited and usually very crowded. From the perimeter of this area outside, you find the boarding gates, but there you have the security control, at least the "proper one". Each gate has its own belt with metal detector and staff, which does not hung around, but will take positions prior boarding. This is where the novelty is. Usually, once you have explained why you have contact lenses fluid with you and that those chocolate balls are not explosive, but Mozart's (do not ask) you are good to roam around, see shops and such. Not here. Once you stuffed yourself and got everything you could carry, you have to do the explaining and then let into an impersonal crowded room, a proper boarding room if you wish, where you are trapped to wait until the gods of the skies take you with them.



As this was known to me, I just went along to check my boarding gate and roamed around among expensive t-shirts, inexpensive sex toys and unattractive Cds. I was looking around for John- Roberts. The build up continued as my flight was announced and I had seen no sign of him. I arrived to the control a little nervous, which was perhaps not the best attitude, but all went well. 

The waiting room was rather crowded, which made me think that the fight was full. I had managed to get a sit fairly in the front of the plane. Unfortunately my luck with the reservation was only for the hotel. Plane was still coach. I was therefore very optimistic, as I hoped to be able to walk after the flight. I think it is kind of a shame that the amazing technological achievement of ferry thousands of people hurtling through the air at almost the speed of sound is somewhat contrasted with the reality of having to eat your knees for the duration, because of the small leg room. The plane was a standard two columns of three seats with a middle isle. Mine was right after business, conveniently separated through a heavy curtain. John-Roberts arrived little after  I had fastened my seat belt, which is the norm in this case, because I had to unfasten, stand and let him through. He nodded at me while holding his breath to get past my seat. Didn't help. He was wearing the same suit as the day of our meeting, just with a horrible pink tie.



Since it was getting late in the evening, after the safety demonstration, the cabin lights were turned off during take off and the crew let them off. After the buzzing of the flaps being retracted and engines getting confy rpms for the haul, John-Roberts leaned towards me and said
-- I have much to tell you -- I could notice some anxiety on his voice, though it could be short breath from the seat. As an answer I nodded and opened my hands, inviting him to get on with it.

Chapter 1 I

Yeah, sure, sit down I said while I could hear cogs in my head turning. Since I had been teached not to stare at people I looked down to my plate and rammed some toast in my mouth, because I could also hear cogs turning in my stomach.

I started chewing when it came down on me, it was the man from the airport!, that one bastard that had all but rammed me! I brusquely looked up from my plate to look at the man across the table, not quite opposite, but towards my left.

I noticed then that he was staring at me with something like a smile.

--Yeah, at the airport, that's me.--

 I guess I looked surprised, and perhaps not at my best with a mouthful of toast to deal with, because his smile widened into a grin

--I'd like to apologize again--

-- Well, do not worry it's ok -- I was trying to get on top of things and said

-- what a coincidence that we are both in the same hotel, uh? -- I thought his accent was not so strong as I had thought at the airport.

-- My name is Roberts -- he said, extending his hand towards me and looking me in the eye. I could not decide whether he was ignoring my comment or he was following a plan, as if he had thought this conversation beforehand.
-- Nice to meet you -- and I did the nice thing meeting his hand half way across the table and telling him my name, as the polite boy I am. Then I turned my attention to my plate and bit again the toast, deliberately.

--Perhaps not as much as you would thing -- I stared back blankly
-- The coincidence, I mean -- he grinned again. Then leaned to the side and from somewhere pulled out a fat collection of paper, loosely folded in three, as in a letter. Carefully not to spill them, he let them in front of me.

 07/13/97
>>nagt9005: This weekend I am going for a Korn concert.
>>U-688: ...
>>U-688: I don't like Korn.
>>nagt9005: xD
>>nagt9005: that's all right grandpa.

Confused, I leafed through the rest

 11/30/97
>>U-688: Welcome back, I was looking for another fixer :P
>>nagt9005: I've been to NASA man!
>>U-688: Are you changing job?
>>nagt9005: Nah, no way man. We are collaborating with another agency
>>nagt9005: We got to participate on a meteo satellite.
>>nagt9005: Which is going to measure radiated energy from the clouds.
>>nagt9005: we got to see the Launch!
>>U-688: You have been to a launch? How is it?
>>nagt9005: Well, actually ... like on the TV, just louder.

-- I do not get it... this are... chat files?-- abía I had no problems recognizing my old internet nickname, but I could not pinpoint the chats themselves. Fuck, if dates were back to 1997, what the hell was I going to remember?
-- Don't you remember the nickname nagt9005?-- I was still blank. Mr. Roberts was staring at me. No grin now. -- Do you remember Napster?-- 
I could feel the pins slowly getting pushed home in my head, click after click. Finally an image popped out. The same man sitting in front of me, 12 years younger, with a Manowar t-shirt and a large beer on one hand and a bigger grin. A name was bubbling out on my throat, not unlike that cheap beer he had been holding
-- You are... ! --
-- Mr. Roberts -- Mr. Roberts cut me short, he was making a habit out of it.

-- We got to talk-- the grin came again -- I have a lot to tell you. We'll meet on the flight back-- and with these words he stood up, headed to the entrance door and then I lost sight of him. I was pinned in place, as confused as surprised. I looked down, next to my plate, to the file, now a little messed up...

Chapter 3 III

The meeting point, according to the information, would be a cafe shop in Brussels, Belgium. Arrival through Brussels airport and first meeting point would be a small park close to the central station.

 T4, Madrid

While waiting at the T4 in Madrid's airport, I realized that my train of thoughts had changed a little, from what is all this about to how do we do this. Therefore, it seemed that my decision was made, apparently without big philosophical questions. In a way it was pretty simple. Future was going to be a pretty fucked up place to live, and here you have a way out or, more precisely, a way where you can do something about it. On the other hand, sure it would mean a radical change in life... or at least it was supposed to mean a new life, for what I understood from all those notes I took.

Boone had warned me from taking any notes with me and I just had my small computer. I had to turn it on the day before leaving... My password was still valid, but now the only information to be found was a bunch of articles regarding aluminum alloys and some tensile strength tests. I had to, therefore, trust my memory. And this is why I was going through all the important points. 

As the flight was not too long, I was still able to walk normally when we deplaned. It was already night and colder than in Madrid. The best was that my hotel was supposed to be right opposite to the terminal building, just across the street.

Belgium always seems to me a little odd. On its communication infrastructures, like stations and airports, you could film a terror movie, without needing to hire any extras. The uneasy feeling was there, yet everything was working fine and everything was modern. Nothing was specifically designed to scare you, but the whole thing did not work somehow. I took a tunnel-shaped hall throw some rolling corridors. While whizzing away I tried to look around me and keep situational awareness. The ceiling was high, but tunnel shaped. The only available light was from some tubes almost at ground level, on both sides of the rolling corridor. These lights, some blueish colored and other blinking, threw strange and impossible shadows around, on the curved ceiling, making it look like the terminal was full of giant insects. Due to the strong contrast it was impossible to make out any faces. Every person was just a blur of suitcases, coats and bodies. So much that I was about to kick a small girl that suddenly appeared next to me, holding her hand her mother. The thick winter clothing and odd gaze on the moving platform with the light conditions made them an appearance of the worst of your nightmares, like a zombie recce team. There where the rolling platforms ended, until the next one, there was no light, so the transition was complicated, more so when you got the blueish light on your face. On the longer view, the light tubes confabulated to show an escape point and there blind you.

The rolling platform ended very close to the outside door, so we where almost thrown at it... which was closed and heavy. The mother had only time to charge against it holding her other hand out, avoiding that the kid smashed her face against the glass door. I was not sure they were not going to bite me or go after my brain, but  I had better leverage and opened the door for them. The mother smiled and said something, probably in French, herself not very sure what was I. I could see her pupils very contracted... she had been focused on the kid, and those bloody light tubes had done nothing good for her night vision.

The space between the airport and the hotel was the usual taxi bay. The hole  width, perhaps 100 m, was painted as a gigantic pedestrian cross, which usually everybody ignores. This time it was empty though, empty from passenger vehicles or taxis that is. There was two vehicles though. A firefighting truck, which added to the street lamps yellow light with the stroboscopic blues. One of the crew, in full suit, was shouting at the driver of the second vehicle a small city car driven by a small woman and with three small terrorized blond kids in the back. Another of the crew was trying to chat a blonde female passenger up , on the other side of the truck. The woman driving the small car was making gestures pointing frontwards, which was blocked by the truck and shouting back at the fireman without letting the steering wheel go.

I just carefully boxed whatever was going up there and pushed the button for a promising looking lift. When it arrived, four firemen came out in full kit and totally relaxed, ignoring me, the shouting car and the blonde and climbed into the truck. Once in the lift cabin I checked which floor was the Sheraton supposed to be. In the meantime the doors closed and up we went. I found out that the Sheraton was in none of them. Good. wrong lift. When the doors opened another fireman climbed on board. Also full kit. I pressed for the ground floor, and he followed suit and pressed again. I went back to square one and he beelined for the truck and I then saw the conveniently hidden sign for the hotel. You could only see it if you came out of the lift. Very good.


 
So, the Sheraton is next to a multistory parking, which has impressive looking lifts. Still it is the Sheraton so it looked a it impressive and the wrong mix between decadent luxury and cheap franchise. It had a small yard above the ground floor, with a glass ceiling/floor so you could see into the shaft from below into the dark snow (at least I hoped it was snow).
The counter was minuscule compared to the rest of the furniture and the attendant was new. She looked uncomfortable in a suit that was clearly too small for her. it made obvious that she had a great figure to go with a nice face framed by thin light read hair.

She had obviously a speech prepared and a check list to follow. After a few sentences she would stop and her eyes get lost in the void, as if replaying everything. Since I had done the same in the airplane a few minutes ago, I could understand it. I tried to be kind and nice, not only because she was good looking but because of her being uncomfortable and not very confident with her English. It seemed to work a little, but once she went back to the screen it was gone and she went back to robotic mode. It did not last long though. The computer seemed to fail or crash so she was left without guidelines. She apologized for me having to wait, at what I said that I had nothing better to do and all was good. This did not help with her confusion. She clearly did not want to go anywhere, either liked being with be or had been told not to leave clients alone. However she needed help and was trying to call the attention of her colleagues milling around in the lobby/cafeteria. I tried a bit of chatting, but I guess it was not the best moment and finally she got the attention of somebody on my back and told her, in french, to bring up the cavalry. Her English had a strong accent, french and American somehow and my reassurance that I was not in a hurry seemed to make her just more nervous.

20 min afterwards I was crossing the entrance to my room, trying to remember the name on the tag of my new friend at the reception desk. Maybe next time. I inserted the card in the slot and.. BANG. Warm light was everywhere, framed in dark wood and nuclear white wallpaper. I closed the door with my foot, locked the door and turned around to see where the fire escape would be. Apparently it would take you through reception, but I had no emergency so I had no probable cause to pay a visit to reception again. Therefore I went on to check the bathroom, check, room check. I turned the TV to have some company and looked through the window, down to that odd glass bottom. Crisscrossed by pipes and that black snow. Now in stark contrast due to the light coming from below. Still I could make out chairs and tables. I let the curtains go back to cover the window and I went to take a shower

The following morning, my favorite attendant was not there, which was hardly a surprise. Breakfast was served in that room I had seen from above. I kept my eyes leveled. I did not want to see the shadows closer and find out what that really was.



I often get confused at the continental breakfast. For one I am not a morning person and for another, the distribution and offer is always new. People is skirting other people while keeping pointed on what ther are looking for. In some cases there is also quite an offer, and you have to decide what to eat. You also have to do contact with the waiter in order to get the much needed coffee.

Finally  I fond myself seated with a mixed plate, some muesli and a glass of juice, trying to get the attention of the waiter. He was efficient and fast, not very talkative, which  was fine with me. I just took a look at my loot, trying to figure out was was missing, because you always leave something out, a spoon a napkin... I did not feel like stepping into the bated zone again, but I was high on bread and low on toppings so I sneaked out to bring some marmalade. It was 0700 and I had time. Meeting time was 0900 so I could eat calmly and went up to pack and get ready. I would not be coming back to the hotel but flying back to Madrid, so I would take everything with me. Everything was a Patagonia messenger bag which you could turn into a backpack and its contents where just the clothes for the weekend.  The room was paid and nobody seemed to have any problems with that, on who paid or why, which is normal, but I was... a little sensitive.

I took the bus 12 headed to the center of tow. It was silver and plastic orange, with the heating at 11 and a mixed bag of commuters. Airport workers, some early travelers with their coffee to go and others, a mix that was diluted stop by stop on our crawl to the city center. I stepped out before the headquarters of Sony Entertainment Belgium, at least according to my map. Nobody seemed to have thought a good idea to write it somewhere visible... shame?

Bruselas central

I went back along the bus route and crossed over the train tracks. The modern office area dissapeared to leave room for what I assumed was the typical Brussels. After a couple of turns I arrived at the park and checked my watch. 08:45. Instructions where that the meeting would be between 0900 and 0915 in the park, else in a souvenir shop in the station at 1000 -1015.

Albert park was rather small, because most of the area was taken by an athletics track, so I got myself in motion. I planned 15 minutes to go around the block, but because of the temperature I found I had done my first round in 10 min sharp.

Capítulo 4 III

Source

Unos pasos a mi espalda, unas palabras en voz baja :
 

--A mí me gusta más la versión con el marinero -- eran las palabras que estaba esperando oír. Hubiera sido la frase 

--Si hubieran incluido un submarino, sería más potente-- yo hubiese tenído que desaparecer, montarme en el avión de vuelta y seguir con mi vida posiblemente, o esperar un nuevo contacto.

En cualquier caso, parecía que todo iba bien, así que intercambiamos unos comentarios más mientras nos dirigíamos al fondo de la sala, donde otro pequeño vestíbulo dirigía hacia los baños a un lado y hacia más escaleras ascendentes al otro.

Las escaleras eran estrechas, por lo que teníamos que caminar uno detrás del otro. También eran empinadas y enmoquetadas, por lo que me hicieron estornudar. Al llegar al piso superior, el latido de mi corazón resonaba en mis sienes, quiero pensar que la mezcla de excitación y no por el esfuerzo físico. Aún no he tenido la oportunidad de darle un buen vistazo a mi interlocutor, sin embargo en estas escaleras no había demasiado espacio para ello.

Las escaleras llevan a un pasillo y la figura que me precede abre sin ceremonia la oscura puerta y se gira hacia mi

--Por favor -- tenía una cara amigable y una amplia sonrisa, sin demasiados dientes. Los ojos, separados pequeños y oscuros parecían sonreír también.

Entré en la habitación, dominada por una mesa oval, de madera oscura también, como la puerta y como los paneles... en aquel hotel había todo un bosque. En cualquier caso, sentados con la espalda hacia la ventana y mirando hacia la puerta.

Uno de ellos, el que parecía estar a cargo, parecía tener unos 50 anos, pelo largo canoso y ojos azul pálido me saludó y se presentó como Alfred Vonsteinfeld, el que me había guiado se presentó como Jim Petersen y el tercero, grande, de grandes manos y pelo oscuro, mirada seria tras las gruesas gafas. Se presento como James Wooldrow.

Tras los formalismos y apretones de manos, nos sentamos casi de forma homogéneamente espaciada alrededor de la mesa.

Los tres eran los responsables de la parte financiera del projecto que Boone y sus colegas estaban lanzando. Tenían su base de operaciones en Londres y estaban tejiendo una complicada red de empresas en paraisos fiscales. Por otra parte, la fachada necesaria estaba representada por Green Island, una empresa que realmente era poco más que un buzón en Londres. La razón de ser de Green Island era la necesidad de realizar compras de equipamiento, de gestionar localizaciones y desarrollar ciertas tareas. Para ello, una de las primeras acciones de Green Island sería la compra de una empresa de ingeniería. Usando esta empresa, se crearía un departamento separado para llevar a cabo las labores de ingeniería del proyecto... y ahí entraba yo.

La empresa matriz se llamaba InGnio InGnieros. El comprador haría pocos cambios. Prácticamente limitará a crear un departamento de desarrollos especiales, dividido en pequeñas áreas de conocimiento y el resto de la empresa seguiría operando como hasta entonces. Por un lado básicas y por otro aplicadas, que se unirían para desarrollar especificaciones. Obviamente, los proyectos serían todos los proyectos relacionados con el proyecto y, gran parte de los ingenieros, formarían parte del proyecto. Algunos desde el principio, otros después.

Aunque gran parte del desarrollo conceptual se hacía en Special Developments, que era el primer nivel confidencial dentro de InGnio InGnieros, parte del desarrollo Técnico se transfería a los departamentos convencionales de InGnio InGnieros y una parte de las adjudicaciones se hacían a través de Green Island.

Special Developments tenía una estructura de dirección que permitía la independencia de los subdepartamentos. La estructura de control no tenía nada que ver con la estructura jerárquica, la cual no tenía mas que una relación unidireccional con los departamentos y no tenía función estratégica. La verdadera dirección estaba dirigida por el llamado ``comité Técnico'' que realmente  era una lista de prioridades y proyectos, asignados tiempo atrás por los fundadores del proyecto. El ``comité Técnico'' delegaba en la sección conceptual el análisis y división o compartimentalización de los problemas, así como la distribución y creación de grupos de trabajo y el cálculo del presupuesto. Ese Presupuesto se pasaba a la estructura jerárquica, cuya función era asignar los recursos necesarios. Los clientes, controlados por el equipo de Londres, eran empresas virtuales o reales, que recibían una inyección de dinero simplemente para contratar los proyectos a InGnio InGnieros. En el caso de empresas reales, estaban ciertamente subcontratadas  por un amplio abanico de empresas paraguas, fantasma y virtuales controladas por Londres, cuyo contenido Técnico era generado desde el ``Comité Técnico''. y ahí entraba yo. 

Mi primera tarea clave era el establecimiento de grupos de trabajo, donde tanto miembros del proyecto, como miembros externos trabajasen en el desarrollo de las subpartes del plan.

La primera parte del proyecto comprende el reclutamiento de gente a varios niveles, es decir, compromiso total inmediato a compromiso parcial o retardado, aquellos miembros que participarían del proyecto más adelate. Después del reclutamiento viene el entrenamiento y preparación.

Paralelamente es necesaria la estructura logística así como el acopio de recursos y materiales necesarios para el futuro. Dado que, en una vista general, la idea era transportar a los participantes del proyecto a una nueva localización y asentarlos allí, estaban implícitos una serie de retos, técnicos y logísticos de no poco calibre.

•     Comisión estaría a cargo del diseño de los buques de transporte.
•     Comisión de vehículos
•     Comisión de vivienda y urbanismo (en destino)
•     Comisión de Energía y recursos
•     Comisión de armamento y equipo defensivo
•     comisión de formación
•     Comisión de seguridad
•     Comisión de elementos logísticos
•     Comisión de almacenaje y alojamiento
•     Comisión de sostenibilidad (fábricas)

Mi responsabilidad consistía en crear y controlar las comisiones, así como establecer claros objetivos en función de los puntos que marcaría Jim Patterson, que en este caso sería mi contacto. Temas de necesidad de financiación y personal u otros recursos, mi contacto sería James Wooldrow. Por razones obvias tanto el procuramiento de armamento y otro equipos restringidos como las tareas de seguridad.

La compra de InGnio InGnieros estaba prácticamente finalizada. Acordamos que yo me incorporaría aproximadamente en un mes, como responsable de la división de SD- Special Developments, que estaría basada en Colonia, porque en Colonia estaba la sede Europea de InGnio InGnieros. Hasta entonces mi prioridad era trabajar en mi formación y seleccionar e incorporar al equipo que iba a trabajar conmigo, es decir, a los responsables de las comisiones.

Poco a poco, la reunión fue llegando a su fin, con los objetivos claros. Mi nuevo contrato de trabajo me llegaría la semana próxima y tenía que darle muchas vueltas a quién de mis contactos podía llamar.

Capítulo 4 II

Alfred Vonsteinfeld era el nombre que había memorizado. El hotel en el que la conferencia tenía lugar era un hotel cercano al museo de historia natural.El hotel probablemente no era victoriano, pero quería parecerlo y ciertamente parecía que la última renovación había sido en esa época. El hotel tenía un vestíbulo relativamente grande, en el cual había una exposición de carteles propagandísticos de la segunda guerra mundial. Celebrando el redescubrimiento del "`keep Calm and Carry on"' Póster, una sociedad había organizado la exposición retrospectiva sobre la publicidad en la guerra y su efecto en la población. Cosa que en las actuales circunstancias de la guerra en Afganistán, parecía estar muy de moda.


La exposición me daba la cobertura que necesitaba para entrar en el hotel, pero obviamente antes debía perderme un poco en el museo de historia natural.

Cuando uno está en un museo, especialmente en uno tan grande como el de historia natural, no es extraño volver sobre los pasos de uno mismo, girar en redondo y seguir un camino errático, lo que lleva  a hacerse una idea de quienes son las personas que están en la sala.

Después de dos horas en el museo, el cual me decepcionó hasta cierto punto, pues muchas de las exhibiciones eran antiguas, proseguí con el plan. A la hora convenida paré a comprar un café para llevar en el local convenido, con lo que daba a entender que el plan seguía adelante sin problema y, con el plano del hotel en la mente, conseguí navegar hasta el hotel. Siguiendo con el paripé me detuve frente al cartel donde se promocionaba la exposición, lo leí cuidadosamente y acto seguido me dirigí decididamente hacia la corta escalinata que llevaba al vestíbulo. Allí, sentado en la recepción, un hombre de piel oscura, aspecto aburrido y corbata barata en una camisa blanca inmaculada, entró en una acelerada actividad, saludándome, levantándose e invitándome a entrar.

Con una sonrisa tímida se lo agradecí. O al menos esperaba que mi nerviosismo pudiese ser interpretado como timidez. Después de preguntar por la exhibición, el amable recepcionista me envió hacia su izquierda, a través de un corto y oscuro corredor hacia una puerta de doble hoja. Yo ya sabía que la exhibición se encontraba detrás de esa puerta, en una sala alargada, con altos ventanales a la izquierda. Lo que no sabía es que estaba panelada con algún tipo de madera oscura y con el suelo cubierto con baldosas blancas y negras. La exhibición estaba dispuesta en un eje central y sobre la pared de la derecha. A primera vista, había unas 15 personas en la sala, casi todas solas, o eso parecía.

Después de unos pasos llegué a mi objetivo. Un cartel que representaba una vista sobre el océano, con el mar de un color azul oscuro y el cielo de un rojo sangre. En el medio, una silueta de un barco se hundía por la proa, con la popa en el aire y la chimenea aún escupiendo humo. Esta imagen era el fondo del lema "` Loose lips might sink ships"'. La simplicidad del mensaje, los colores y en general todo el mensaje son inesperadamente potentes, como en tantos otros carteles de la época.

Chapter 3 II

Thus, the group first target was clearly marked as the recruiting and selection, followed by training. The small cross disciplinary group would need some time to mature before expanding again. This group of people would fragment into other groups, carrying the core ideas and values in order to maintain group unity

Lastly, a group of people would be selected at the very last moment. These would be selected on the basis of the capabilities of these individuals to break free of their current status and  go through a quick training. The disadvantage of having these people, who had had at best little training or commitment  is obvious. Thus the more important training of a previous batch or batches. A concept of different batches or training cycles was needed in order to incorporate everybody. This meant starting well in advance of the estimated collapse, operating in secret so as to allow the training and waiting.

People was certainly important, but organization was key. The best way to keep everything secret was to operate in as small cells as possible for as long as required. Cells with specific tasks, from recruiting to logistics.

Seed teams would take on the task of creating other small cells and some of the training as well. This was aimed firstly to allow the new members to operate in the cells environment and in secret, plus training or enhancing skills at social and survival level, such as navigation, first aid, hunting and fishing, basic building and tools, water purification and weapons and fighting but also a physical training program and social skills and history and cultural topics

Most of the materials were compiled by the core team and the first aim was to find specialist on each topic, so they would pass the information on.

The other big question, where to move was quite a difficult one. A deep study was done with the climatic evolution and their variants and a geopolitical projection. All the available temperate areas would be flooded with migrants. The current governments there would probably try to grow as much food as possible to sell it to everyone else, thus denying settlements. Ensuing instability was not very attractive.

The best option seemed to be an island or a group of island. Far enough and populated sparsely enough to be attractive, but big enough and close enough to the remaining temperate band. This deal another problem: getting there.

At this point I had gone through most of the information Boone had given me and filled many pages with notes and as much with doodles. I stretched back on my chair and yawned. The night was all around me, outside and in the room. The blinds still up showed a dark hole dotted here and there by lampposts and the silence was only once in a while broken by an odd car driving slowly, looking for a parking or the less regular underground. All this just broken by the cone of light of the table lamp, as if it was the center of a mini solar system. Though not too cold outside, I could feel the badly isolated windows letting the heat escape and I knew the aluminum frame would be unpleasantly could to touch.

It was an halogen lamp, which used to get rather warm and then would smell funny. I thought about my student time, when I finally went to bed, mentally exhausted and, without a break between books and bed, the night was full of nightmares. I stood up and leaned towards the window. Now I could see myself, with an inquisitive stare.

Through the next two days, I went through my notes and checked details here and there and cross checked sources. Everything made kind of sense, but still...

Chapter 3 I

Boone and his mates had started to weave a net. A net of who they considered  worth, either because of their knowledge, skills or abilities.Criteria were broad and basically it boiled down to "anyone who could contribute with something useful to society " and was in reasonably good physical  condition. There was another criteria; they had to be hard. Not Dirty Harry hard, but resilient. The kind of person that could go through hardships. On this department my grandfather way my reference point. Everyone in his family worked on fishing when he was a kid. It was still that time when you would not choose a profession, but this was given to you by your family and, often, written as your surname. The family had a small open boat and they went fishing every night. when he was still a boy about 5 or 6, it was the time for him to start to do something productive for the common good. Before dawn they took to sea, but to the young boy, the rolling of the Atlantic at night was not doing the best for him. His father, exasperated and seeing that the kid was more of a ballast than a useful hand took the decision of let the ballast loose. Fishermen do not get up early because of the incredible dawns, but in order to get a good position, so his father could not lose time going back. He pointed at the dark coast and said: there is this or that beach 1 km in that direction, then it is about 3 or 4 km walk home. Have a nice day. I guess difficulties is a relative term.

On the other hand, sure enough, that theory of civilizations going up on wooden shoes and down on silk ones seemed a little too simplistic to me.

Another information package was about the background and history of the project. Many of the people working with Boone had a university degree, but there was a bit of everything. There were many mathematicians and computer scientists, but there were engineers, climatologists, physics graduates... those were the core of the project from the people who decided to take another path. These people recognized quite rapidly that they were lacking on a lot of areas and thus it would be very hard for them to design a viable plan for the future. Thus, the first step was defining what was to be done at all about this future. Survival was one thing, but they were thinking on a social transplant. Take a small sample of the society and spice it with the knowledge, courage and decisiveness to carry on with it and conquer the future... whatever was coming. In order to get the needed skills and knowledge, the group needed to grow and not necessarily within a university environment. The small core group got on to recruit more people up to about 30. Most of what they were doing at the beginning is what you would expect of university people: they talked about it, they threw ideas around and started to sketch plans, sometimes utopic. Nevertheless, through the new additions, the group got in gear. Their solution to the crumbling of society was to do this transplant somewhere else, where would be easy to reestablish and resettle. Working on this basis, the recruitment went on to select the needed seeds.

Of course, this would not necessarily be too easy. How to find these seeds and pluck them out?, where to transplant it? how to do it without interference? 

The fist question, though deemed easy to answer, turned out to be the hardest one to answer. The candidates had to be functional and useful members of society, but also to participate and believe in the project. They needed to work in a society, but also in a lack of society.

With regards to how to do this transplant, the participants had to kick start a new society, so Anthropologists, doctors, historians and engineers were to be needed, but sure enough, artists, designers, cooks and butchers and carpenters would not be less important. Not only academics with ideas, they needed people with principles and skills. One of the team was a professional swimmer. She had taken place in the Olympics once and had done a lot of cold water swimming competition. These type of experiences could benefit the whole team .

A small core of the participants would be dedicated to select and study the candidates, who, at least the majority could carry on with their lives until moment came, this being the start of the training. This change was also difficult, as a normal member of the society would have a some difficulties to change their normal life in a brink. These training was aimed to help the candidates make the transition and to improve and enhance their skills for the coming. In addition, these people was strongly attached to others: parents, children, couples... and it would not be quite easy or attractive to leave them behind. Thus, the plan had to include them too.