Chapter 4
882 Words
Flashback — The Electromagnetic Incident
Return of Larmenia to Primitivism
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December 31 — Before entering the prison hospital (one day earlier)
10:00 a.m. — Oranko Republic | Ministry of Interior
So… finally, it has reached your hands.
You have no idea how much I suffered just to make sure it ends up inside your grasp. But that no longer matters. What matters is that I am now on my way into your mind.
The human brain is a fascinating thing.
Do you know how many neurons are shifting right now under my fingertips? I can move them left and right like chess pieces. I can exhaust them with thought until they surrender… and then convince them of anything. Even lies.
I won’t take long.
Tell me… are you holding the pen on your desk? Yes—the one you are looking at.
They once advertised it as a magical pen that writes underwater, sold only to the wealthy elite.
And yet, after computers, airplanes, and cars… humanity still reacts to inventions with amazement.
Strange.
From the discovery of fire to today, man has never stopped being amazed by what he creates—yet he has never once been amazed by the mind that created it.
We discover. We marvel. Then we forget the creator entirely.
You are angry because you do not value your own mind. You never allowed it to speak.
What if I returned you to the Stone Age right now? Interesting thought, isn’t it?
You would realize everything you built over centuries could vanish… while the greatest tool you own—the mind itself—remains unused, unappreciated, ignored.
Just like the generation of the late nineties once mocked the invention of the ballpoint pen.
Minister of Interior Yassin could not bear the man’s arrogance. He ended the call sharply:
“What does this fat, disgusting lunatic want? Return me to the Stone Age? Does he think he invented time travel? Damn him—and whoever made him president.”
I never knew if Yassin’s anger came from that call… or from his fight with his wife the night before.
As his colleague and assistant minister, I should have reassured him. Told him everything was fine.
But I never felt safe about him.
Never.
The man with the swollen face… the mind of madness multiplied a hundred times.
Our leader.
“Bachus.”
We had attended many meetings with him.
Meetings about striking Larmenia with an electromagnetic pulse—returning it to the Stone Age.
At first, I convinced myself it was madness. A joke. A dangerous fantasy.
But Yassin and I opposed it repeatedly.
Because we knew it wouldn’t stop there.
It would escalate.
Into war.
I still remember that day.
We were gathered inside the presidential palace.
Ministers. Military officers. Engineers.
A four-hour presentation played on a massive screen.
The electromagnetic bomb.
How it works.
How it destroys.
An electromagnetic bomb disables electronic systems using a powerful electromagnetic pulse. It disrupts circuits, destroys devices, collapses infrastructure. Cars, banks, communication systems—all erased. Its effect radius can reach up to ten kilometers unless combined with a nuclear explosion.
High-altitude nuclear detonations can generate pulses strong enough to cripple electronics across vast regions.
After four hours… the presentation ended.
Then came the vote.
I was the first to object.
Yassin followed.
But the decision had already been prepared.
That night ended.
I went home.
But before I reached the door… I remembered.
It was my daughter’s birthday.
Hania.
And I had to go to Dana’s house—my ex-wife.
We were strangers now… though I don’t remember when that happened.
But I knew one thing.
We would never return.
Not even if oceans separated us again.
I went anyway.
For Hania.
For my little girl.
Five years old.
Her smile was brighter than anything I had ever seen.
I bought toys, balloons, sweets.
I filled the car with gifts and drove, smiling at a traffic light I usually hated.
And in that moment, I forgot everything.
Work. Fear. Politics.
Only she existed.
But that night… was not Hania’s night.
It was mine.
A black truck.
Impact.
Metal crushing metal.
Time stopped.
Sound disappeared.
Then—
Darkness.
Fifteen days later…
I woke up in a prison hospital.
No memory.
Fragments missing.
Then came Hantenmas prison.
Then came the escape.
Return — Escape Night | February 5
After escaping, I went to a friend in the Fifth District.
Changed clothes.
Changed hair color.
Erased identity as much as I could.
Then I left.
No destination.
No name.
Only movement.
Only emptiness.
Only the need to remember.
The city felt hollow.
Protests everywhere—I didn’t understand them.
I didn’t care.
All I wanted was the last piece of memory that had been stolen from me.
Because I felt like a child abandoned in the middle of a road… told to continue alone.
“You are strong now.”
But what strength belongs to a child of eight?
Perhaps the completely amnesiac is the lucky one.
Maybe forgetting everything is mercy.
Because remembering everything might break a person beyond repair.
Sometimes the mind survives only by deleting itself.
But partial memory loss…
is torture.
Like being handed a story and told to finish it…
without ever knowing where it began.
- Writer
