(Live as if you would live again- that is your duty. For in any case you will live again!)
- Friedrich Nietzsche
For some reason it felt a bit strange to return to the office today. Mr Tuniak was of course already waiting for me and the moment I had sat down he said: “I read your last post on the blog. I'm afraid there has been a misunderstanding.”
He handed me a photo of a man, probably at the end of his fifties, with black hair, a full beard and a cigar in his mouth.
“This is Estevan Tomez”, Mr Tuniak explained. “He's the founder of the Tomez school.”
“But didn't you say that Juan founded it?”, I asked.
“That's what I meant with misunderstanding”, he said. “I probably haven't explained it very well.” He smiled. “Did you know that I am always preparing for our meetings? I think about what I want to talk about, what I want to say... And then, once we start I get sidetracked and forget half the stuff I wanted to tell you. Well, you can probably imagine how it is...”
I answered that it was also possible that I had simply forgotten about it (whatever it would turn out to be). I had seen so many things on the island that I could've written a whole book about it. But I had had to cut it down to the length of one post. Of course: I may come back to some things I didn't mention last week if and when they become necessary for Mr Tuniak's narrative.
“So, Juan is not an immortal?”, I asked.
“Well, he hasn't died yet...”, Mr Tuniak joked. “But no, he was born in the middle of the 1990ies. That I know for sure.” I gave the photo back. “Estevan met my mothers because of Philip. I don't know how Philip met him. I never asked and Philip never talked about it. But it must have been sometime during the Second World War.”
“And your mothers met him before you were born?”
“Yes.”
“You look pregnant”, Philip said when he saw Miriam. “Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?”
“No”, Miriam answered, as she and Helen sat down on the table beside him. “But you do, don't you?”
Philip smiled mysteriously. Jokes like that were exchanged during every meeting between the three. It had become a sort of tradition. No one took those questions seriously. None of them wanted to know about their futures, so no one asked direct questions or expected direct answers.
“Did you watch the moon landing yesterday?”, Helen asked.
“Yes, yes”, Philip said. “Even in Shangri-La I couldn't escape the anniversary. Are you here because of it?”
“No, we have already watched it a hundred years ago”, Helen said.
“Several times”, Miriam added. “We wanted to ask you if you could recommend a school.” She put a hand on her already swollen belly as she said that. “Somewhere remote. Well, you know what we like.”
“Yes. I know exactly what you are looking for”, Philip promised.
“Estevan founded the school at the beginning of the 1960ies and my mothers went there shortly after”, Mr Tuniak explained. “At first there were only a few children there, maybe two dozen or so. The equipment there was good, but my mothers wanted better. So, they lend a hand.”
“They brought things from the future?”, I asked.
“A few”, Mr Tuniak admitted. “But not many. And they didn't bring anything that was built after... well, what you would call the present.” He went silent for a moment. “There I go again. I told you how easily I get sidetracked and what do I do? I get sidetracked!”
“You wanted to talk about Estevan Tomez”, I said.
“Exactly”, Mr Tuniak said. “What would you say if I told you that Estevan was, from a certain perspective, an egoist?”
“I don't know”, I said. “Nothing you have said so far seems to indicate that. I'm guessing there is a whole story behind that claim.”
“It's about his believes”, Mr Tuniak said. “He believes in reincarnation.”
“And you say that he only did good things so that he would get a better life when he gets reborn?”, I asked.
“Yes and no”, Mr Tuniak said. “When I say, he was an egoist, I'm not serious. But he believed in... a kind of super-reincarnation. He didn't talk much about it, but he explained it to Philip once.”
“Did you listen to Feynman's speech when he accepted the Nobel prize?”, Estevan asked his friend. He and Philip were sitting on canvas chairs on the roof of the school. Next to them there was a telescope, which they had used earlier to show the students the stars and planets in the sky. The students had already gone to bed.
“No, what did he say?”, Philip asked.
“He talked about an idea his thesis advisor had”, Estevan said. “A man called John Wheeler.”
“Never heard of him”, Philip said after thinking about the name for a moment.
“He put forth an interesting proposition”, Estevan continued. “He said that there is only one single electron in the whole of the universe. What do you think about that?”
“I'm sure that was not all he said, was it?”, Philip asked. “What else?”
“There is only one electron and it travels from the beginning of the universe to its end: Once it's there it travels back through time, right back to the beginning again... and again and again... And every time we see an electron, it's actually the same one, just at another point in its travels. You see? That way, all matter in the universe could be just one single particle. What do you say to that?”
Philip pointed to the time machine that was parked in front of the school. “Well, at least we know that the time travel part could be possible”, he said.
“Did I ever tell you that I believe in reincarnation?”, Estavan asked.
Philip nodded. “Since you went to Asia in the 50ies...”
“But it's more than that”, Estevan interrupted him. “What if there is not only one single electron that creates the universe? What if there is also only one soul? One soul that travels through time, that, sooner or later, becomes every person? What if we all are one?”
“Do you believe that?”, I asked Mr Tuniak.
“No”, he answered immediately. “But it is a nice idea. It's a good believe, I'd say, better than some... And Estevan was positively convinced of it.”
“And the thing about the electron?”, I asked. “Is that true?”
“No one can say for sure”, Mr Tuniak said. “But there are a few things that work against this idea. And Wheeler never thought of it as a serious theory. It was just a thought experiment.”
“And how did Juan learn about it?”
“That's the part that surprised me”, Mr Tuniak said. “When Estevan realised that his life was coming to an end, he left the Leviathan for a few months and basically travelled the world to look for a successor.”
“Didn't any of the other teachers want to take over his position?”, I asked.
“If he had asked them, one of them would have taken over, probably”, Mr Tuniak said. “But no one really wanted it. And when he returned the problem didn't present itself: He had found Juan. Juan was very young then, only four or five years old. He lived in an orphanage and – and this is the really surprising part – he believed exactly the same thing as Estevan. One single soul for every human. And he believed it, before he had ever met Estevan.”
I didn't have to ask, why he was so sure about that. The way he had said it, made it clear, that he had checked himself.
“Some of the children on the island claim that he does know stuff from an earlier life”, Mr Tuniak continued. “And after a time everyone just regarded them as one person, especially after Estevan's death.”
Juan was the first to leave the beach and return to the school. Although he had entered the building countless times before, it felt as if it was the first time. For a moment he went to his office. It was his, and only his, now. Then he went looking for Alexander Tuniak.
Alexander hadn't attended the funeral ceremonies. Both of his legs were broken, so he had to stay in bed. Juan didn't know how old Alexander was. He looked younger than his actual age, but he still had to be over fifty at least.
For a long time both were silent.
“I'm twelve years old and I'm supposed to head a school”, Juan said finally.
“Not alone”, Alexander answered. It was the first time that the young boy looked like the child he really was. Normally, he acted more like a grown-up, friendly but distant and he nearly never played with the other children.
“Will I manage it?”, Juan wanted to know.
Alexander hesitated before answering. “You asked my mothers, didn't you?”, he then said. Juan nodded in response. The two women, who seemed only slightly older than their son, had been present at the funeral. “And I'm guessing that they told you that everything will work out all right in the end, didn't they? Well, you'll get the same response from me: It will all work out all right in the end. Are you doubting me? Why would I lie to myself?” It was the first time that he had ever talked directly about Juan's belief.
Juan smiled. “Do you know or do you believe?”
“Both”, Alexander answered. “If I wouldn't believe it, there would be no point in getting out of bed every morning.”
Juan looked at the broken legs.
“Figuratively speaking.”
“Do you know what will happen to the school in the future?”, I asked. “Will he be the headmaster until he dies?”
“Ah, ah!” Mr Tuniak raised an accusing finger. “That's also in your future. Not you personally, but things that haven't happened yet from your point of view.”
“And you don't want to talk about that.”
“I will only say this: It will all work out all right in the end.”
NEXT WEEK:
'Normal' is a dryer setting.
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