Youth Without Youth Page #6

will try anything,

anything, in order to get

their hands on you.

Why?

Among the intimates

of Goebbels,

there is an enigmatic

and ambiguous person,

a certain Dr. Josef Rudolf.

Dr. Rudolf believes that

electrocution by a current

of at least a million volts

could produce

a radical mutation

of the human species.

Word of these experiments

has reached the ear

of Adolf Hitler,

who has become personally

interested in your case.

Attention!

The experiment begins!

They want

us to lend you to them

for a period of time.

God help me.

Time, Dominic,

we are running out of time.

Austrian-Swiss

border. Passport control.

Please disembark

with all luggage.

An order has just come in

from Vienna

that certain nationals

will be detained.

But why? I have

a valid passport and visa.

Please take a step back.

Go on!

My cooperation with the Nazis

is only symbolic.

Go ahead.

Thank you.

Geneva.

1941, May the 7th.

Dominic Matei, dictation.

The documents in the Geneva

safety-deposit box

summarize my life,

which was profoundly changed

in the spring of 1938,

in front of the Gara de Nord

railway station

in Bucharest.

My first experiences

were described and analyzed

by Professor Roman Stanciulescu,

in reports which were

confiscated by the Nazis.

The war rages around me.

I am a fugitive

in neutral Switzerland,

encircled by the Axis powers.

My Romanian homeland has

made a pact with the devil,

Adolf Hitler,

and may soon be under siege.

I've lost contact

with my dear friend,

Professor Stanciulescu,

which could mean

that he's been killed.

I live in fear,

dreading what awaits

in the alleyways.

Eluding capture by my wits,

moving from hotel

to rooming house,

always working on my book.

November the 30th, 1941.

Zurich. Dominic Matei.

I have explained

in portfolio B

how I instinctually

found the talent

to preserve myself.

Living like a secret agent,

I discovered abilities

to forge documents,

change addresses

and prepare disguises.

Shortly before he disappeared,

Professor Stanciulescu

arranged a bank account

for me in Geneva

under the name

of William Pedersen.

Now, without him,

these funds will be depleted.

Oh, good morning,

Mr. Pedersen.

And I will have

to find other means.

February the 20th, 1942.

Bern.

I must face the undeniable

and chilling truth,

that I am a mutant.

Like a character

in a science-fiction novel,

I am a strange superman

of the future.

I have access to knowledge

unavailable to mankind.

Powers I don't fully

understand.

Despite this, I try to behave

as an ordinary intellectual,

working to complete my book,

documenting the origin

of language

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