We lived here for ages. The wars in Europe spilled into the rest of the world and raged for years leaving billions dead and the planet devastated. My great-grandparents escaped to this obscure place in Siberia from their own home in the United States. When North America and Japan were obliterated by a nuclear blast, they were already safely ensconced in a small house among the snows and ancient trees of taiga, a primeval forest in the Far East of Russia.
Life hasn't been easy here. They had to survive in a merciless environment, relying only on their own resources. Fortunately, they found friends and support in the Evenks, the indigenous people of this land.
That was almost seventy years ago. My great-grandparents had two children, two boys, who married Evenk women. We came from a Japanese-European background, and the Asian genes became even more pronounced in the following generations. The families multiplied, and now there is a small village here that lives it's simple, busy everyday life.
I often asked myself a question: who was that couple that made a heart-wrenching decision to move to this, seemingly, God forsaken part of the world? It couldn't be easy, and they must've made an educated guess, where the war and it's consequences won't reach them. I rummage in the things that are left from them: a lot of papers and science manuals, photographs and knick-knacks from their age and culture, but my efforts to decipher their identities and reasons for coming here were fruitless. That is until a week ago.
Amur and Dular, my two sons, were restless and hot, with nothing to do before school would start again in a few weeks. An old underground shelter that was not used or visited by anyone since their grandparents' time was the one place forbidden for them to explore, and they zeroed in on it, like a tiger zeroes in on a grazing deer.
My husband and I both heard Dular's cries, as he ran to the main house. Fortunately for his brother, it was a lunch hour, and many men were at their homes, so it was easy to dig him out of a collapsed hole. Covered with dirt and slobber, my boys didn't remember about their find at first : a metal trunk that was hidden for many years in the shelter.
When I came upon a series of diaries bound together by a rubber band, I thought that my task will get easier. It did. Joon, my great-grandfather, wrote in it every day. The events leading to my progenitors' leaving the U.S. and coming here became clear at last. But what I read in the yellowed pages deprived me of sleep and peace of mind for many years to come.
Joon and his wife, Anita, were geneticists. Prior to the global warfare, they worked on cloning vegetables and raised their family. As one country after another became involved in a conflict, Joon and Anita had to face some tough choices imposed on them by the military. They were offered an opportunity to create super-soldiers by using their science. They refused.
They lost their jobs, but as they wondered how they were going to feed their boys, a certain organization contacted them. It seems, their struggle to stay true to their principles didn't go unnoticed. They were given a chance to work in safety for the survival of mankind
The war raged on. Many years passed until my ancestors were able to find a solution to the loss of human life. They isolated a gene that was responsible for amplifying human conscience. If enhanced, that gene's influence could lead to all sides stopping the hostilities and resuming peace.
Joon and Anita were not able to achieve results in their work. They became hunted fugitives from the intelligence services of many countries. Things in the world were also going badly. When a threat of the nuclear war between the United States and Japan became apparent, Joon and Anita put all their efforts in looking for a place of safety for their family.
That is how they ended up in Siberia.
To Be Continued...