December Pulse

Chapter 2

– Arabidopsis –

Thursday, January 16 — 7:00 a.m.

I woke up the next day.

My words to that brute had been a lifeline… yet they had also trapped me in an even deeper predicament. I don’t know what possessed me to say what I said to him. All I knew, from the moment I opened my eyes, was that I could not endure even a single minute in this place.

I didn’t know who I was. I didn’t know where I had been yesterday, how I lost my memory, or why I was in prison.

My God… I only wish my memory would return quickly—and never return again to a place like this.

Perhaps escape had already become the only thought echoing inside my subconscious since the moment I arrived.

Fredo finally woke up, and my ears were relieved from his snoring. Then the breakfast bell rang, and the cell doors opened. We were taken to the dining area, and there, we began speaking about escape.

— “Listen carefully to me. If you want to get out of here, you must follow me. Everything I say must be executed exactly. Otherwise, we will remain here for life… or die under their bullets. Whichever comes first.”

— “Alright… and luckily, everything outside is in chaos right now. There’s no talk about anything except what has recently happened.”

(He paused, but I didn’t even bother asking.)

“Getting beyond the outer fences might be somewhat easy. But what about the mines planted densely outside the walls? The only way out would be to jump over the fences—but the moment our feet touch the ground, we’ll be turned into roasted chicken pieces. How do you even think? It seems I really did break your head yesterday.”

I cut him off:

— “Listen to me carefully. Do you want out?”

— “Yes, but—”

— “Do you want out? Yes or no?”

— “Yes.”

— “Good. Then everything I ask for, you will provide. Don’t question me. Just do it. Look… there is a doctor named Havier. I know where he is. I want you to contact someone outside and tell them to go to him, mention my name, and ask him for a batch of genetically engineered Arabidopsis. Give him this paper and bring it back to me as quickly as possible.”

— “Do you think it’s that simple to get what you want?!”

— “If you want to leave, you’ll find a way.”

— “Fine…”

— “And one more thing. Give me your wristwatch.”

Prison Yard — “Hantenmas” Prison

We went out during yard time.

All my focus was on the guard towers. Two men up there never blinked—constantly scanning east, west, north, and south.

If there was any chance—any insane chance—it would have to be during daytime yard hours. But how could we possibly do it under their eyes?

To my right, a group of prisoners played. To my left, others gambled. A world entirely created by inmates, replacing everything outside. They had adapted… and the strangest part is that if you place a human inside a box and tell him to adapt, he will first feel it is his end—then he will adapt. And eventually, he will even learn how to be happy inside it.

“Hantenmas” prison operated on a principle of few guards, many impossibilities—minimal surveillance, maximum dead ends.

Mines surrounded the entire perimeter in dense layers outside the walls. Jump the fence, run, escape—step on the ground and you explode. No one dared even to think about it.

The guards, however, had control devices that could deactivate the mines during entry and exit. These devices worked only with fingerprint authentication and a password.

Friday, January 17

Fredo returned—with the Arabidopsis.

I began explaining the plan step by step.

— “At 3:19 p.m., sunlight will reflect directly into the guards’ eyes. They will turn north for exactly twelve minutes. During that window, I will climb the southern wall, scatter these seeds at wide intervals. I need you on the other side. If the guards turn toward me, you engage in a fight with any prisoner—just keep them distracted. One eye on me, one on the guards. Never lose focus. Never let anything break your attention.”

As expected, he asked:

— “And what exactly are you going to do with these seeds?”

— “Alright… I’ll tell you.”

“This plant is genetically modified through genetic engineering. It can sense the presence of TNT in the soil.”

“TNT is the main compound in explosives used in landmines. When these seeds are scattered and grow, their roots detect TNT in the ground. They trigger a biochemical signal that activates a gene responsible for leaf coloration. The leaves turn crimson red.”

“Thus, red leaves indicate landmines beneath the soil. Rain here will help the seeds grow faster. After two weeks, we will walk only on the blue plants—and avoid the red ones.”

Days passed.

Time stretched like centuries. I felt as if I were living inside a prison within another prison. I remembered nothing of my last days, and feared I might never remember again.

But there was one thing I remembered clearly—the woman of my dreams.

Her smile was my only relief each night. I would lie on my bed, staring at the wall, turning my face toward it as if she would appear again.

And she did.

Dancing on the wall like a cinematic illusion—dancing over my emotions. Strangely, I could still smell her… still feel the touch of her blue scarf brushing my face.

I wondered every night for two weeks: Do you even exist in reality?

Love, I had come to believe, is always a form of provision. Some are given it… others only think they were given it.

I once thought I loved my ex-wife Dana. But I realized after our separation that I had never truly known love at all.

And I used to wonder about those who were granted love for years, only to lose it and spend the rest of their lives searching for it again—growing old, dimming, fading… never finding it.

Perhaps love is never lost… perhaps it is simply never found again.

Escape Day — Monday, February 5

Since the day I scattered the Arabidopsis seeds, rain helped them grow.

And now… the day had come.

From above the wall, I could see it—tiny plants beginning to emerge. Blue leaves… and red ones.

“God help me… I don’t know if today is the last day of my life or the first day of the unknown.”

I didn’t know what I was escaping from… or what I was escaping toward.

Why was I here? Did I kill someone? Was I a bad man before losing my memory?

The older I grew, the heavier life became. And the heaviest truth of all… was that there is no escape from being alive.

I prayed with all my heart:

“Curse this world… and all who dwell upon it…”

Then I paused.

I remembered those I had wronged.

So I said:

“May God forgive all those who wronged others intentionally… and forgive me as well.”

Nothing happens by chance. My presence here is not a coincidence. My memory loss is not a coincidence. And that—strangely—gave me faint hope.

I was never a slave to logic. And I will not worship it today.

3:00 p.m.

Less than nineteen minutes remained.

Everything was in place. The distraction was ready. The guards’ attention was divided.

Fredo and I waited.

Seconds felt like years.

3:19 p.m.

The sun shifted.

— “Go! Go! NOW!”

We ran.

We jumped onto the blue-leafed Arabidopsis path, moving carefully, avoiding the red zones.

Every step could be death.

Fear was louder than thought. Breath heavier than certainty. Sweat racing across our skin.

It felt like walking between the Angel of Death and the Angel of Mercy—who would reach us first?

Then—

The sun shifted back.

Too early.

The guards’ attention should have returned… but they didn’t notice us.

They were distracted by the prisoners’ football match.

Chaos… or fate.

We crossed the minefield.

We reached safety.

We ran like fugitives from hell toward something we no longer knew.

Then the sirens screamed behind us—tearing the sky apart.

But we were already far enough.

We collapsed into each other’s arms, not as prisoners, not as fugitives… but as survivors who had cheated fate for a moment.

And then

We separated.

Each of us ran into a different direction.

Into the unknown.