Read Connexion : The Atlantis Project, Book.1 Online
Authors: LEMPEREUR
Tags: #robot, #space opera, #science fiction, #brother, #alien, #atlantis, #atlantis adventure, #apocalylpse, #artificial inteligence, #genetic egineering
The Atlantis Project,
Book 1
By
Manuel
Lempereur
***
Published by:
Manuel Lempereur at Smashwords
Copyright © 2015 by Manuel Lempereur
****
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights
under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be
reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or
transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written
permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of
this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places,
brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the
trademarked status and trademark owners of various products
referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without
permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not
authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark
owners.
Smashwords Edition Licence Notes
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Copyright © Manuel Lempereur, 2015.
All rights reserved.
Registered in June 2015.
Published by Manuel Lempereur
97150 Saint-Martin, Parc de la Baie Orientale.
English translation by Heather Bourn.
“One morning, one of us had run out of black,
and so he used blue…”
Pierre-Auguste Renoir
1 THE TURNING POINT
The apartment was cramped. An unexpected
guest could have easily described what the two of them had been up
to for the last three days, from the vestiges of their home-body
existence cluttering the place. It had to be said; merely dressing
themselves or clearing the table was a challenge. And for good
reason: living with a twin brother on a daily basis was no mean
feat. It required constant compromise. Furthermore, as these
brothers were joined at the abdomen, and knew it would always be
so, life together could be quite a trial. However, it would be
unfair to reduce their situation to such a simplistic observation.
They had been living like this for over thirty years now; each had
learned to cultivate his own uniqueness, which added a little spice
to their life.
Jacques was a little gruff and sure of
himself, whereas Charlie liked to lend himself a detached and
distinguished air. While one of them was yelling in front of a
football game on TV or watching a B-grade action movie, the other
would be doing his best to concentrate on reading the latest
literary prize-winning novel. Actually, no, that was not exactly
it. To be fair on Jacques, he also read books occasionally. He was
even quite a fan of some science fiction authors. Being a Siamese
twin was not always easy, but all in all Jacques and Charlie did
not fare too badly and were rarely bored. Even if there were only
limited activities within their reach, they had long ago learned
how to add a little interest to their otherwise very humdrum life.
It was almost 11 o’clock on this particular day and nearly three
hours since Jacques had stubbed out his last cigarette.
“Charlie, it’s nearly three hours since I had
my last smoke.”
“So I’d noticed. If it could be a bit longer
it wouldn’t bother me.”
“How do you always manage to stay so calm?
It’s as if all the nicotine I inhale doesn’t reach you.”
“Of course it does. How could it not? It’s
just that, unlike you, I know how to master my body and what it
tries to impose on me. You know, by the way, that I strongly urge
you to do the same. If you’ve read what’s written on your cigarette
pack, you must know that ‘Smokers die younger’, and, ‘Smoking
seriously harms you and others around you.’ In both cases, that
means me.”
“Okay, I get it! That’s enough nagging. I
hereby inform you that I’m going to put my book down, lift my butt
off this couch and get some pants on as fast as I can. I’ve already
waited too long.”
Charlie sighed.
“It’s no use arguing. Stop huffing and
move.”
“Are you going to bother poor old Michel for
your filthy cigarettes again?”
“Yup, that’s exactly what I’m going to do and
you’re coming along, whether you like it or not.”
Michel was their next-door neighbor. Jacques,
accompanied by his faithful other half, had rung the bell but, as
usual, the man was slow in coming.
“I hope he’s not out. That’s all I need, for
him to start getting at me too.”
At last the door opened. An acrid smell
emanated from the apartment and slowly invaded the stairwell. A man
in his fifties stood before them, rather surly, his face marked by
drink and tobacco
“Hey, Twins, what’s up? You sick of hanging
around in your rat hole?”
“I’ve run out of cigarettes. You know how it
is. You get irritable, you can’t stand anyone anymore. Sometimes
you even feel like stuffing your brother’s book of etiquette down
his throat. You get the picture?”
“As you can see, Jacques is suffering from
withdrawal, which is making him rather irritable.”
“Wait here. I’ll just get my coat on and I’ll
drive you there. It’ll do me good to get out for a bit. Elisabeth
isn’t home from work yet and I’m getting sick of waiting.”
Once Michel had disappeared, Jacques looked
at Charlie with a smug grin.
“Okay, I know just what you’re thinking.
Michel is very kind and he’s always been there for us. But I do
think you could show a little gratitude instead of smirking.”
Jacques did not answer, preferring to savor
his delight. At last Michel reappeared. As was often the case, he
had donned black jeans and cowboy boots. The get-up had no doubt
been the height of fashion in its time, but now seemed completely
outdated, even ridiculous. Pointing this out would no doubt be
futile. At best he would not take any notice; at worst he would be
offended, but would not change his habits for anything in the
world. It was one of those seemingly insignificant quirks which
carry an unexpected weight of personal identity and which, it turns
out, are better left well enough alone.
Even before entering the underground car
park, the twins knew what was coming. Yet again, Michel crowed over
his beautiful car, his pearl, his trophy. In a word, a precious
little jewel of an Audi which, five years after its purchase, was
still blowing the household budget. He was actually rather amusing,
and both Jacques and Charlie were quite glad to be able to rely on
him. His kindness and generosity helped them overlook the quirks of
a poor soul with a destiny just as pathetic as their own. After
listening patiently to his usual spiel, they got into the rear of
the vehicle, being careful not to mark the still-shiny leather of
the back seat. The maneuver was not easy and Michel helped them,
very gently and carefully. The scenery slipped slowly by Charlie’s
attentive gaze. Michel, for his part, gave a running commentary on
the radio news. Looking up at the central rearview mirror, he spoke
to the twins.
“Wouldn’t you like to learn to drive one
day?”
“How do you think we’d manage that? Charlie
at the wheel and me operating the pedals, is that it?”
“Joking aside, it’s not that we wouldn’t like
to be a little more independent, but it’s beyond us. It will never
happen, unfortunately.”
“These days they make specially adapted
vehicles. Maybe there would be something for you.”
“You think so?”
“It’s possible. In any case, nothing
ventured, nothing gained. Wouldn’t you like a nice little city car
like this one? Owning a car gives you freedom, and if you spend
enough it can even be a little slice of heaven. Look, I bought this
one over five years ago and she’s still as nice as new. You just
need to take good care of her, pamper her. Above all, you need to
make sure you take her to a good garage. If you take old Michel’s
advice, at least
she
will be faithful to you for a good ten
years, minimum. I could give you some good addresses if you like.
Are you scared or what?”
“Maybe.”
“What do you mean, Charlie? He’s talking
trash. It’s got nothing to do with fear; it’s mainly a financial
issue. With our only income being a ridiculous little invalid’s
pension we’ll never be able to afford a specially adapted car –
maybe a moped, if we’re lucky.”
Jacques was quiet for a moment before
hammering on, “Anything custom-made is incredibly expensive. As
well as finding the money, we’d have to fill out a ton of forms,
put together a file to show we’re eligible for financial
assistance, and that’s just the start. That sort of thing’s not for
me. My brother maybe, but in that case I’d have to be willing to go
along and personally, I refuse to do a whole song and dance routine
just to validate my rights. Think of all those people in
wheelchairs! They’ve been fighting for years, so the powers that be
will get them proper sidewalks and ramps into buildings, and
they’re only just starting to get their act together now. And there
are lots of those people, tons of them. There are even rich people
who end up in a wheelchair, so you see, extremely rare cases like
ours, they don’t really care about us.”
“You sound bitter, Jacques. You shouldn’t be
so negative. Things are changing. It just takes time, that’s all.
You know, I believe we never can tell what life has in store for
us. Sometimes there are really nice surprises just around the
corner.”
“Yeah, or really bad ones!”
Michel had already passed by three
tobacconists. He finally pulled up in front of
The Naked
Bar
. Clementine was looking her best and welcomed them with a
radiant smile.
“A packet of
Gauloises
for Jacques
please, lovely Clementine. You’re looking resplendent today. You
make me think of a poem by Verlaine.”
“Really? You’re such a romantic,
Charlie.”
Charlie assumed his most cultivated voice as
his brother looked on, horrified, and launched into one of those
effusions he so prided himself in.
“’The violins blended their laughter with the
song of the flutes/ And the ball was in full swing when I saw her
passing by/ With her blond hair playing on the spirals of her ear/
Where my desire like a kiss sprung forward/ And wanted to speak to
her, not daring to…’"