Xavier and I became friends. Despite his gruff side prophet, I learned to know and even now he departed in his time, he makes me still visit occasionally.
He returned in the future shortly after the military had transferred the capital to the revolutionaries, complaining of having failed in his mission. But things are soon back to normal when the international community has finally decided to intervene in the case French, to counter what has been called "the triumph of unconsciousness."
Within weeks, the newly arrived troops retook the capital and the revolt was nipped in the bud. I think in a few years, there will emerge a new generation of sixty-eighters who boast of having tried to change the world.
Everything is back as before, almost. Some social laws were passed, or restored, but the measures have lasted a year or two. Up what's new president told his constituents at some point we must be realistic.
I am anything but a leader of men. The army of losers is again reasonable, and today the country is experiencing an unprecedented labor peace. But I continue to be called Irving Rutherford.
Vincent ended up leaving the country. It has become quite an artist recognized overseas. One day when I had not heard from him for months, he called me and asked me to send my manuscript to get it published. When I asked him why he would do such a thing, he replied tersely, "Because I can."
Currently, my knight story was translated into English and distributed to small print. Sales ahead very bad, but Vincent still got called for a second book.
Unable to write another novel, I sent the manuscript old survivor of the fire in my apartment, where I spent my time to spit before. Vincent, in rereading it, I announced that I had never written anything better.
-I want to believe you, I said before hanging up.
And the record will probably all my life. Even if you never know what the future holds.
Martin has returned to about the same time that my tumor. I first learned to the tumor, and when I returned home after a long day at work (I've found work), she was there waiting for me outside my home. I have no idea how she found me.
She wanted to get back together, but when I took her in my arms I thought to the tumor, and I thought of this life full of compromises. I loosened my grip and I declined his proposal. I then spent several nights without sleep.
I finally sleep again, and I returned to my little routine. I tried to write one or two stories, that I failed to finish. I changed my job, to break the routine.
I got a tattoo. Last. I did write "Won" on my chest. Sometimes I meet in the mirror this tattoo survivor who proclaims "Every day is golden, and I have the reflex to scratch, as if he could leave. I try to save me paying for laser surgery, but most of my money is engulfed me in my attempt to reconstruct a collection of comics, and my medical expenses.
When Xavier going to see me, it reminds me that I'm still young. He tells me that the future does not seem to budge an inch these days, and that I should take this opportunity to offer me a vacation.
-whore The future is immutable, I remarked one day with a touch of bitterness.
-Just for people like you.
I went to spend a week with Vincent and it made me a very foolish. Although he has not had much time to give me, he was very hospitable, and introduced me girls could please me. I returned to France with his arms full of unsold copies of my first novel published.
I read it once to me, and I went to bed later, despite the jet lag and the working day waiting for me tomorrow. Looking back, I found the end rather optimistic
" Paxton Fettel fired three hundred gold pieces of his equipment, and two percent more of his sword. It's dressed like a tramp he left the small town hospitality. He passed through the forest without encountering a single robber.
Here I am now the king of nothing, "he exulted.
knight's life had been heavy and cumbersome. The drop in this way made him exult over several days. He had money in advance, and no responsibility. He even went to a group Goblins on the run without lifting a finger.
The days passed, inn to inn, and discovered that the world was not confined to the vast lands of Ragnar. Beyond the mountains to the east, waiting for the aquatic people who survived the great flood. Accessible by boat to the north was the land of giants.
Without realizing it, until he lost the urge to fight. Some nights by the fireside, he imagined the old kings slumped on their thrones, sword and crown pendant into disrepair, bards who listened with half an ear. He, the king of the pasture and temporary camps, fell asleep each night to the sound of adjacent taverns.
He ended up missing one day of money. He bought an old dilapidated farm for a pittance, and began to grow just enough head to feed. And hell, he would be happy!
His beginnings as a farmer were not easy, and its first harvest was so thin that he seek the generosity of its neighbors for the winter. We liked Paxton property in the neighborhood, although some were trying to make him understand sometimes in veiled terms that a knight will never make a good farmer, and vice versa.
-Honestly, I do not see any more noble in knight in the field work, often mocked Paxton.
"It's not a question of nobility, but temperamental. We do not force them to be someone else. "Gargan replied when the toothless, which put Paxton in a rage.
harvests followed, and soured somewhat. It was sometimes spend a gloomy veil over the eyes of Paxton, fleeting as it is inexplicable. And sometimes, when he saw children playing with wooden swords in the field, he seemed to make an effort to postpone his concentration elsewhere.
One day he met at the village fete Morgados his old friend, who did not recognize him at first sight. Paxton was forced to explain to him that he had renounced the knighthood to live more simply.
-Plus just what? Morgados was surprised.
They discoururent long on the usefulness of the regulation of goblins, and life as a free man. The two friends drank a few glasses, and went singing to the farm of Paxton. Morgados early morning resumed the road.
Paxton Fettel not working that day. He sat on a chair outside his door and watched the sun rise and descend. He allowed himself to enter the fields and their resource, and almost shed a few tears as he recalls some epic battles he had conducted.
He did not eat, did not utter a word, but seemed to spend his day doing long goodbye to something or someone with whom he was not really intimate. The fading light, his features soften to handle a somewhat childish nostalgia which drew a smile from the local peasants.
Some people seem a little strange.
nightfall, Paxton stretched, then went to store his chair inside. It falls one last time to contemplate the plain asleep, and took his decision. "
END
