Dreamcatcher A Fantasy Novel of Love and Magic

“In short, they gave us anabolics and we were subjected to gene therapy. We were able to get much more exercise than we ever had before. We passed any type of test. It was amazing! It´s not very healthy according to internet conspiracy theorists, but they paid us triple to participate in the program.”

The soldier stood guard at night. He had gotten used to seeing me every two or three days when insomnia kept me awake and, my patience running out, I left the capsule for the gym.

Contrary to what I had believed, the surveillance I was subjected to was not so rigid. I mean, the cameras were always watching; but the good doctor had to sleep, and he had left clear instructions to the staff: unless I caused trouble, or spent more than three hours out loitering around, I was not to be disturbed. I could walk the halls, go to the dining room, the showers, read or exercise.

The doctors suggested that I sit down to meditate when I was starting to get bored, but my constant wanderings inside my fantasies were meditation enough.

The third time I saw the uniformed I decided to greet him with a wave of the hand, and he did the same. A couple of days later we started talking, and thanks to him I found out some things the good doctor had forgotten to mention.

“And why did you leave the program? Any side effect? Did you start to feel bad?” I asked while exercising my pecs.

“To feel bad? Of course not. I felt… strong, fast… tireless. Like… like a machine,” he mumbled distractedly with his eyes fixed on my chest.

“Then…”

“They abandoned the program three years ago, when they built that machine… just like the one where they keep you, and they started putting people there. They didn´t need us anymore, I guess.”

“I thought so…”

“What are you talking about?”

“The eternal search for the superman.”

“You imagine? Stronger, tougher soldiers… We felt like… Yes. Superman. The enemy gets tired, but you can go on and on until you finish him off.”

“And who was your enemy?”

“Well I don´t know now. I never saw the battlefield. We could have beaten anyone…”

“So… you were lucky.”

“Lucky?”

“You didn´t have to kill.”

“Yes. That´s true. Although I´ll never know…”

His voice sounded melancholy.

“What you could have done.”

He nodded with a slight smile.

“Would you have wanted to fight?”

The sparkle in his eyes said it all.

“Don´t worry,” I continued. “You´ll have the opportunity.”

I never pretended to be clairvoyant, but I could see it in the near future: his face alert, tense and sweaty, aiming everywhere with his almost empty gun, stuck in the midst of chaos in a fallen city where the few lucky survivors killed each other for anything remotely resembling food.

There in the safety of the base, he had no idea how hard he would have to fight.

“What are you talking about? Three years have passed. I am practically a veteran. Well… I would be if I had fought. But now there are better soldiers… better than me. Younger and stronger, and from what rumors say… they are extremely difficult to kill. Casualties will be greatly reduced in the next war. Why would they need me?”