Fog Bound E-Book

Anthony Caine

• Herausgeber: Europa Edizioni
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

A university historian from Toulouse takes a trip to the Mount Athos peninsula in Greece with the purpose of writing a book on Athanasius the Athonite, builder of the Great Lavra Monastery. Intending to research old documents and visit several monasteries scattered along the mountain of this ancient homeland of the gods, he encounters religious characters completely absorbed by the modern digital age and the system it imposes to control every aspect of human existence. These encounters switch the course of the events.
An ascending parable, the story traces the historian’s efforts to rise above the fog that has emerged from mankind’s grid of knowledge. Overcoming the Cloud marks a reunion of mankind’s deep impulse for freedom and its reconnection with nature.
A deep reflection of today’s society is there to be found in the happenings of this enchanting dystopian fiction.

Educated as an architect and engineer, Anthony Caine is an American living in Prague, Czech Republic. From 1979 to 1989 his architectural firm in New York City, Proposition Architecture, PC was an active participant in the development of lower Manhatten’s loft conversions. His design work remains visible in Lower Manhattan. In 1991 he accepted an invitation from the Chief Architect of Prague to assist in that city’s transformation to a market economy. He has lived there ever since, developing properties, teaching university students, and consulting on matters of urban development. 
Fog Bound is Anthony’s first novel. He began writing fiction shortly after moving to the Czech Republic, initially as a way to bring his own personal perspective to the dramatic changes accompanying his new life in Central Europe. Thirty years later, his serious focus on creative writing crystallised with the arrival of the Covid pandemic. Since then, he has authored a number of short stories, twenty of which have been assembled in a sequential anthology entitled Dragonflies. When not working or writing, Anthony enjoys caring for his horses, riding, and sometimes playing a little polo.

Leseprobe

Anthony Caine

Fog Bound

The Cloud

&

Silver Linings

© 2023 Europe Books | London

www.europebooks.co.uk | [email protected]

ISBN 9791220140126

First edition: June 2023

Fog Bound was copyrighted in Prague in 2022.

Fog Bound

The Cloud

&

Silver Linings

For my two brothers,

Frank and Chris,

my stalwart travel companions in the caravan of life

Mount Athos

Stavronikita

The Cloud

Dafni

Karyes

Transit

Stavronikita The Grid Koutloumousiou Eucharist

Panagia Portaitissa

Antiathonas Diagonostics

Philotheou / Karakallou

Dafni

Having arrived at Dafni on the western shore of the Mount Athos peninsula, Vincent Cradeau waits in line to pass through customs. He feels someone behind his back is studying him. He turns to find a man with warm, smiling eyes dressed in Eastern Orthodox robes. To be sure, a monk if not an Athonite priest.

“Good morning!” the monk says cheerfully. “I saw you on the boat. Didn’t want to approach you then; you seemed to be consumed in your own thoughts.”

“Good morning,” Vincent responds reticently.

“A pleasant day, isn’t it?” the monk offers, “although it would be nicer, of course, if the sun was not dampened by this mist … Please excuse me for saying so, but I can tell by the way you are standing that you are rather tired. I suspect that either you have been traveling a long time or you are having troubles sleeping.”

“A little of both, I am afraid.”

“While we wait here in line, might you be interested joining me with a small taste of morning stimulant? It will give each of us a spark of energy. Just enough to get us through this customs review. You know, just to clean the residue off from today’s early morning boat trip down the peninsula.”

Out from under his robes the monk pulls out a flask, opens it, wipes the cap clean with a white handkerchief, fills it with liquid, and hands it to Vincent.

“You are not Greek, Balkan, or Turkish are you?

May I ask from where you have been traveling?” Vincent takes the shot of stimulant in a single swig.

Quite strong stuff for this early in the morning. It begins to loosen him up.

“Yes, you are right. I am not. I am French, and yes, I am a bit under the weather. I am finally coming to the end of a rather exhausting, discordant voyage: from Toulouse to Marseilles, then from Marseilles to Lesbos on the cargo ship, the Jean Paul Sartre, then on the same ship but with less convincing crew to Thessalonika. Onward still, moving slowly by bus through Central Macedonia to Ouranoupoli. Finally, from there to Dafni with you all by this Agia Anna speed boat. The trip to get here seemed to take a lifetime. All for what should be only a 3 day visit to the Great Lavra Monastery …’

‘May I ask with whom I am sharing this morning imbibement?”

“Certainly, just call me Adelphos.”

“Well, good morning again, Adelphos. I am Vincent.”

“Nice to make your acquaintance, Vincent. I trust that in Ouranoupoli you reconfirmed your permission to visit. It would be a pity if after such a tiring voyage you were denied entrance to the Holy Mountain. You know, Mount Athos is recognized by the EU as an autonomous polity. It is empowered to independently regulate residents and visitors. One can’t pass through customs without a confirming stamp from the Mount Athos Pilgrim Bureau.”

“Yes, I was warned by my travel agent. I reconfirmed my permission at the Bureau office before boarding the Agia Anna. I am concerned though that the Bureau stamp may not be sufficient. I challenged the immigration officer there. He assured me that because I am a university professor specializing in the study of Christian evangelism – especially in the religion’s early years – I should encounter no resistance entering here at Dafni. Actually, as a anecdote he added that it is good that I am not female. If I were a woman, he said, my professional references would not help. All women are prohibited from entering this place … Is this really true? Even in this modern, progressive era?”

“Yes, I am afraid so – no women and no domestic animals. Only male cats are allowed ... A university professor, are you? Such a coincidence, so am I. I teach digital programming at the Athonias Academy here in Karyes.”

The name Vincent Cradeau appears on the LED screen above. Adelphos nudges Vincent to look up. “Apparently, you have been called to Immigration Desk

A.”

“Yes, I see. Thank you.”

Vincent walks up to the desk, pulls his passport and entry permit out of his backpack, and hands them to the immigration officer. Adelphos ignores his own call to a different desk and follows close behind. Vincent looks back at him.

“Just to help you through your interview if necessary, my friend,” Adelphos says with a shrug of his shoulders.

The officer reads the Bureau’s letter of permission. “Sir, do you have with you the application form supporting this permit?” he asks. He hands back Vincent’s passport without opening it.

Vincent pulls his permit’s supporting papers out of the backpack and gives them to the officer, who looks at them briefly.

“You are Mr. Cradeau? Your age, sir?”

“Yes, I am Vincent Cradeau. 70 years old. I gave you my passport as evidence.”

“Yes, well, we are not interested in your passport. Are you carrying a mobile phone? Please activate it and hand it to me so I might review it.”

Concerned, Vincent turns to Adelphos. “Is this standard procedure?”

“Indeed, it is. Nothing to worry about. The authorities just want to be sure that they might not be letting in someone who might be disinclined to follow local regulations or the polity’s prescribed behavioral guidelines.”

The officer takes Vincent’s mobile phone. After rolling through a few of its apps, emails, and other recent communications via internet, he politely asks Vincent to step aside, to go through the door nearby on the left, and wait at the Mount Athos Theocratic Society minivan standing there. He informs Vincent that he will receive back his phone after it has been reviewed by the Bureau’s main office in Karyes.

Without waiting to be invited to speak, Adelphos steps up to the officer’s desk and touches his wrist watch to a digitalized sensor sitting on the desk’s corner. Not looking up but wishing Adelphos a pleasant day, the officer opens the gate for him to pass. Adelphos stops before passing through and turns back to the officer.

“Sir, Mr. Cradeau is a friend of mine. Like me, he is a professor. If his mobile is to be reviewed in Karyes, may I please accompany him in the minivan? I am now heading to Athonias Academy where I am scheduled to give a lecture 45 minutes from now. If I wait for the public bus, I most certainly will be late for my students.”

“No problem,” the officer responds. “Both of you, please board the minivan. The driver will unlock it for you. I will come as soon as I finish my review of permits for these last few passengers.”

Adelphos comes out of the customs office and walks up to Vincent, who is waiting next to the minivan’s sliding door.

“So, I will be riding with you! The officer has been kind enough to allow me to accompany you on the drive to Karyes … It saves me from hiring a taxi. Come, let’s get in. Take a seat.”

After his last few interviews, the officer joins them, sliding in next to the driver. He turns around to face Vincent.

“Mr. Cradeau, you can relax,” he advises. “Even sleep if you want. Our trip to Karyes will take about 30 minutes. It’s a short distance, but the road is narrow and the route quite serpentine.”

“Thank you. I prefer to take in the view when I travel.”

“Today there will not be much to see. The day is too misty, I’m afraid.”

Vincent nods his head in acknowledgement.

“Hmm ... Nevertheless, I doubt that I will be able to sleep. After drinking the morning shot of stimulant that this man next to me was so kind to provide, I no longer feel very tired.”

“Yes, it’s great stuff, isn’t it!” Adelphos gregariously interjects. “May I interest you in another?”

“No, no thank you. For me, one has been more than enough.”

“Suit yourself,” Adelphos shrugs as he re-opens the flask. “Officer, how about you?” He passes it to the front. The officer and the driver each take a hearty share directly from the bottle and return it to Adelphos, who follows with a considerable swig of his own. He plays with the cap, screwing and unscrewing it a number of times. His hand shakes. It seems to Vincent that Adelphos hasn’t decided whether he is ready to put the flask away.

“May I?” Vincent asks, as he takes the flask from him and politely places it back in Adelphos’ robe pocket. “Adelphos, while we travel, why don’t you tell me about the academy where you teach – the Athonias, is it? I would be pleased to learn something about its enrollment, its history, the courses it teaches, and its mandate … You know, what attracts students to study there, and where do they go after graduation.”

“Well, I am not an historian like you,” he responds, while he works to quiet down the shaking in his fingers. “But I am happy to tell you what I know: Athonias was founded in 1749, more than 800 years after the first monastery was built here on the peninsula. Greece was at the time part of the Ottoman Empire. The Academy was funded by Cyril V, the Ecumenical Patriarch of Constantinople. As I am sure you know, the Ottomans allowed its people to worship whichever religion they preferred. But if you were not Muslim, you were obliged to pay taxes while Muslim citizens were exempt. The Ottoman tax code encouraged many to turn away from Christianity. It polarized the two opposing religious communities. Ecumenicalism was in decline. I suspect that Cyril thought that by founding a more progressive Christian academy to counter-balance neoconservative rhetoric, the Christian community might become less resentful, more open and tolerant.’

‘The new academy quickly became a forum for the revival of traditions carried over from classical Greek rationalism. The Academy’s curriculum included the works of such free thinkers as René Descartes, Gottfried Leibnitz, Christian Wolff, and John Locke, to name just a few. Students studied and applied the mindset of Newtonian science.’

‘As one would expect, this reawakening of rationalism created its own set of internal controversies. It aroused hostility among Christian traditionalists. When Greece began its war of liberation from Ottoman hegemony, around 1820, the Academy was closed. It reopened a decade later after reactionary political fervor within the church simmered down. Later, twice again the Academy closed its doors -- during the first and second world wars.’

‘One can easily see that as a forum for progressive thought, Athonias Academy proved to be a political flash point whenever Greece and the Eastern Orthodox Church experienced a moment of social upheaval. The Academy struggled to navigate its rather delicate existence … not very healthy for an educational institution. It has mellowed over time. These days, the Academy’s acceptance within the church is stable. Though it still embraces progressive ideas, its curriculum focuses on teaching programs that are less politically sensitive.”

The officer turns in his chair and gives Adelphos a cautionary look. Adelphos ignores him.

“I can understand that,” Vincent says. “So, what is today being taught there?”

“Programs in philosophy and political theory are no longer available to students, but discipline in rhetoric still is. It remains quite popular especially within the first-year class. Most students enroll in the Academy’s physical science program, where the faculty teaches how to write software, manage statistics, and filter through large data bases to recognize emerging patterns.

The Academy offers both accredited bachelor and master degrees.”

“Data management courses are considered to be part of physical science?”

“Yes, of course,” Adelphos responds, while looking directly back at the officer.

“And, where do Academy students then go after graduation?”

“Most stay on the mountain, taking residency in one of the 20 monasteries administered by the Mount Athos Theocratic Society. Graduates aspire to receive an invitation to join monasteries of high rank in the Athonite Hierarchy. Of course, Great Lavra, ranked number 1, is the preference of most students … Our monasteries are under contract to do a lot of software programming for public and private institutions. They manage a lot of data. They sell services worldwide, not just to Christians. We are proud to say that the Academy continues to observe its ecumenical traditions! Graduates have no difficulty finding work here on the Holy Mountain.”

“Interesting … I understand that before monasteries first appeared here on the peninsula near the end of the first millenium, hermit monks had already been living an eremitic lifestyle in limestone caves high up the mountain. Is that right?”

“Yes, the eremitic lifestyle continues here even today. It is encouraged, even financially supported by a few of the monasteries. Stavronikita is one example. Iviron is another. There are many hermits still living in not so distant caves in the hills above. The hermits occasionally come down to assist monastery resident programmers. They help debug or repair infrastructure. Being more often in contact with the physical world, our hermits are particularly well suited to provide technical support services related to our system’s hardware. They provide us academicians – as we prefer to label ourselves – an invaluable, local reservoir of outsourced expertise.”

“Is it possible for an academician like me to visit a few eremitic caves?”

Monitoring the look in the officer’s eyes, Adelphos responds, “I would think that is possible, yes ...”

“Is it difficult to find them?”

“Not at all, not even in the dark. You just need to keep climbing upward. The higher up the pinnacle of Antiathonas Peak or Mount Athos you go, the more caves you will find.”

The officer turns back to face the road ahead.

Adelphos takes out a pair of sunglasses from his robe, puts them on, and starts to play with his smartwatch. “Please excuse me,” he says. “We shall be arriving in Karyes soon. Before then, I need to log in some time on social media.”

This morning’s mist – now better described as fog -- is getting heavier as the minivan climbs the mountain road. Vincent is not able to see the Aegean Sea behind them, or even the base of the mountain valleys near to the roadside. Vincent leans forward and lightly taps the officer on the shoulder.

“Sir, I had promised my daughter that I would contact her after reaching Dafni, just to tell her that I am alright. Would it be possible to have my mobile phone back for a moment to call her, or to at least send her a message?”

“I’m sorry,” the officer responds empathetically. “Security regulations prohibit it. I am not allowed to return your mobile to you until your entry has been authorized.”

From behind his sunglasses, Adelphos speaks up. “If it would help, I am happy to send a message to your daughter for you. Is she active on LinkedIn or WhatsApp? What is her name?

“Yes, please. LinkedInwould be fine. Her name is Aelia. The last name is the same as mine. Please tell her that I have arrived safely in Dafni, that I am ok, and that I will contact her later after I find accommodation.

Thank you for your kindness, Adelphos.”

“My pleasure. So, she is not married, eh?”

“No, she lives with a girlfriend.”

“There are no grandchildren?”

“No, and apparently there will not be. It’s too late for that.”

Karyes

The minivan arrives in Karyes. The fog here is even heavier, a soupy, white cloud spiced with silver droplets of morning sunlight. The driver has pulled the vehicle up to the shadow of a stone building with small windows. Vincent can make out an exterior stair on its façade leading to an upper floor. The driver opens the van’s electronic door.

“This is where I leave you,” Adelphos announces. He takes his sunglasses off, turns to Vincent, and looks into his eyes. “Don’t worry, my friend, I am sure that your interview will go well, and you will have the opportunity to communicate directly with your daughter.”

He kisses Vincent lightly on the lips, then steps out of the van. He puts his sunglasses back on, hesitates, and turns again to him. “It’s a little too sparkly for me out here in this fog,” he offers, almost as an apology. “I hope that your visit with us adds further meaning to your travels ... J'espère te voir plus tard, mon ami.”

The door closes, and the minivan begins to move.

The officer again turns to face Vincent.

“We are going now to the Agion Oros’ Lera Koinotita – the Mount Athos Building of Holy Community, where the Pilgrim Bureau’s main office is located. You will be interviewed alone there by Bishop Jerome, the

Director of Immigration… I will not participate.”

The officer’s eyes intensify, as if he is trying to convey some second agenda. Vincent thinks to himself: if he is looking for a gratuity, he will be disappointed. The minivan arrives in front of the shadow of another building, also stone punctuated by small windows, but this one sits on a high rusticated foundation. The van’s electronic door opens. The officer takes Vincent’s backpack and leads him up the building’s exterior stairs and through its 19th century Romanesque revival entry portico.

There is no one occupying the reception desk. The lobby is devoid of life. On the wall across from the entrance is a fresco of the Virgin Mary, and a Greek sentence engraved in stone. Vincent’s mastery of Greek language is not good enough to translate it. The officer notices Vincent looking at it. “It says,” the officer translates, “Let this place be your inheritance and your garden, a paradise and a haven of salvation for those seeking to be saved. They were God’s words to Mary when after Christ’s crucifixion he gave this peninsula to her as a gift.”

“So then, why are no women allowed to come here?” Vincent asks.

“Because this is the Holy Mother’spersonal haven -- her reward and salvation -- and she forbids it.”

“Interesting. Even her own children were forbidden? Historical records tell us that Jesus had two brothers and a sister…”

The officer reaches out to Vincent’s arm. “Hmmhmm. Follow me, please.”

There doesn’t seem to be anyone anywhere in the building. The officer leads him to the right, to the end of the hall where two undecorated straight-back, wooden chairs face each other near to a small table and an open window.

“Please wait here,” the officer points to one chair, drops the backpack on the other, then turns toward the lobby. “I will deliver your documents and your mobile phone to the Director.”

An industrial pendant lamp above the table provides insufficient light for Vincent’s aging vision. He is unable to see much of anything outside through the glimmering fog, but he can smell a garden nearby – roses, chrysanthemums, basil, parsley … maybe, some mint.

He is starting to lose his sense of time … It could be due to the long trip to get here, plus the blinding fog that leaves him feeling disengaged. After an indeterminant number of minutes, Vincent is approached by a short, bearded, heavy set man dressed in grey robes.

“Good day, Mr. Cradeau, I am Bishop Jerome, the Mount Athos Pilgrim Bureau’s Executive Director,” he says, without looking at Vincent. Still standing, he holds Vincent’s letter of permission up to the lamp with his left hand. In his right hand, he spins through the content of Vincent’s mobile phone.

“What is the purpose of your visit to our Holy Mountain, Mr. Cradeau?”

“I have come to visit the Great Lavra Monastery, sir. I am a university professor specializing in the study of Late Antiquity / Early Medieval Christian evangelism. Presently, I am studying the life of Athanasius, the Great Lavra Monastery’s master builder who started constructing foundations there in 963 AD. I plan to write a new biography of him, one that might better illuminate his relationship with the Empire’s center of power then in Constantinople. My work on this biography will benefit from a physical visit to Anthanasius’ masterpiece.”

“I see,” the Director says, still standing, as he continues to roll through emails on the mobile. Finally, he makes eye contact. “Unfortunately, sir, I do not have the authority to issue you a visa. Your case needs to be decided by an authority with more power of discretion than I myself am allowed to exercise.”

“My case ???” Vincent counters. “What seems to be the problem? In Ouranoupoli, I reconfirmed my permission to enter the peninsula. It is all there in the paperwork: my application, its supporting documents, all the correspondence.”

The Director smiles empathetically. “Please follow me. We will go visit the Protaton, where you can appeal personally to The Protos, our Holy Mountain’s Elder Monk, chairman of the Executive Council of the Mount Athos Theocratic Society. Only The Protos is empowered to grant an administrative waiver and approve your visa.”

Vincent follows the Director outside and is led through the fog to what appears to be a church connected to an adjacent tower. They enter the tower, climb its stone stairs to the top floor, enter the left of two doors, and take seats at a conference table. There on a large video screen Bishop Jerome projects the data from Vincent’s mobile phone. The Protos – a robust elderly man, taller than Jerome, with a long silver-grey beard dressed in white robes -- enters the room. Jerome rises from his chair, kneels in front of The Protos, and kisses his ring. Rising, he introduces Vincent to him.

Vincent intuitively rises, places his hands on the edge of the table, and briefly bows his head.

“Mr. Cradeau has just arrived from Ouranoupoli,” Jerome reports. “He is a university professor teaching the history of Christian evangelism. He says that he has come to visit Great Lavra Monastery. His letter of permission seems to be in order. However, we hesitate to allow entrance due to the digital information we have downloaded from his mobile phone. Records from his phone are projected here on the screen for Your Excellency’s consideration.”