BOUND BY THE PAST

At the next morning, I forget to close the door of my room and was possible to see what I have in it, all is a mess, a completely mess; papers, blueprints, maps are on the floor, making impossible to walk, tons of books with authors such as Borges, Orhan Pamuk and Kafka, they were fully read and marked with little notes, the only thing that were well preserved and organized. On the desk, was visible a vanished portrait of a little boy, his mother and father but nowadays their faces were eliminated due to time. Whose portrait hides a safe, but no one knows that.

Everyone knows in Yeni Antalya I'm a single person, no one of my loved ones is alive anymore. Probably I have been attached to the past for a long time, my surroundings are getting affected because of my messy life, even the unique light bulb that my room has it's broken, I'd rather escape from the reality reading books than reorganizing my own life. I know that I need to change, but that will be in another end of the world because I wouldn't do it in this one.

My community in Yeni Antalya or best known as the Bunker forty, the blessed one, here we have a particular form to treat the people, all ages have to work eight hours daily to maintain a good operation in the sections of electricity, water supplies, filters of air and water, little farms where we plant a bad copy of our traditional Turkish tea, working for the traders who take the adventure to buy stuff to other bunkers or even non-governmental settlements. Unfortunately, we just came back to the very beginnings of forms of government in human history, picking up again an Ottoman Empire when the Sultan is chosen by blood and not by majority. There used to be a single Sultan for the entire city before this changed; some bandits had decided to make a plot against the Sultan Suleiman II, killing him, provoking a poisonous death with a knife. Since that event, each bunker has its own Sultan, its own rules and treaties, creating conflicts between different bunkers, where their citizens are not allowed to cross, talk or even to trade with the "enemy". But there is an unwritten rule that if someone is accused of assassinating an important member in each bunker section, all of Derinkuyu will be against them and a bounty of one thousand bottle-tops will be given.

It has started to be midday and I am still in bed, laying onside my blankets noticing I lost weight and condition with that single and stupid expedition. I can not imagine if I stayed more time outside, all my work of being in a good shape is vanishing. Worried about my physique I jumped from the bed and walked to my little bathroom, there I could see that my hair was longer than ever, my beard seemed like a homeless beard and it was possible to see my ribs, for an instant I felt like I would have a heart attack. «I can't believe that I dared to treat me like this». I punished myself. After a few minutes I chilled out and started get an own haircut, cutting it short like a buzz cut and shaving my beard renewing my style to a chin curtain, actually I thought, I'm not as ugly as I imagine, but my eyes, my skin and my bones are saying something completely different, the tiredness, the fatigue and the hunger makes me seem haggard, my gold days are ending.

Probably I could not find the answer of why the world ended like this, the answer of what are the faces of my parents, my several attempts figuring out how their stories, what were their names, their professions, my ambition is cooling. I don't mind right now exactly what happened, I just struggle doing it.

Depressed and anxious about things of my life, I checked my watch and I get surprised, it was the afternoon and I hadn't reported my arrival to my superiors, I have no words to describe my desperation in this moment, the punish to disobey the incoherent, unhumanitarian, cruel rules and laws imposed by the actual Sultan, Mahmud III, a completely tyrant, he doesn't have a piece of piety of his servants, workers and vassals. Giving the vassals and workers the worst treat and I'm in that poor step of the pyramid condemned to follow orders in my entire life... I decided just to take a breath of "pure" air and walk around to the bunker searching for my comrades avoiding the obvious situation that I have in my shoulders.

—Kaan! My friend. —I can't stand the voice of this dummy—. How are things my man! Everyone here thought that you had died during your expedition but they were wrong. Tell me, tell me. There is gossip that Aslan found you and rescued you, is it true?

«I can not stand this guy, Demir, please I don't want to see you».

—Yes, Demir, it is true, Aslan "my savior", he found me in the arid valley. —I said, while I was playing with my empty pockets trying to avoid his boring and pathetic conversation. I just entered his shelter to have a "better" conversation.

Demir has a bad reputation here, best known as a sword with double sharp because of all kinds of strange treats and deals that he had made in the past forging with pulse that AKA. He used to live in the Bunker number twenty-two whose name has changed to Kiliçya giving it a name with a political meaning. I continued the conversation as I usually could do it, answering boring questions, repeating the story of my possible death over and over and over. However, I can not ignore that Demir's attitude was different as usual. I could notice that he was wearing a new uniform like an imperial uniform but I can not infer if it is true or not because there was a little badge that shines in a splendid form.

Then, Aslan comes to the meeting with another friend of ours, Can, both are pretty similar in appearance but not in character. Aslan is a stout man with a head of curly blond hair and striking blue eyes. His robust frame and round face give him an imposing yet approachable presence. Deeply superstitious and devoutly religious, Aslan is known for his unwavering faith and ritualistic habits. He resides in Bunker Eleven, also known as Barışya, a sector once revered as a sanctuary of peace, despite of that I don't trust in him too much.