The Mistery of Belicena Villca
THIRD BOOK
“ Quest for Uncle Kurt ”
Chapter I
The reader can give free rein to the imagination , but will never achieve to represent the emotions and the state of total disturbance in which the reading of the letter of Belicena Villca plunged me . It was something very strange for me ; as I was reading I was experiencing a plurality of states of mind . So I went from the initial skepticism to the surprise , from this to amazement , from there I leaped to curiosity , and successively to a thousand more sensations . Finally , a primitive and insensate enthusiasm seized me and , instead of rejecting the letter as a fraud , logical and perfectly justified attitude , I did the opposite , thus sealing my fate : I decided to undertake the adventure !
I had just finished reading the letter and , almost without reflection , I had taken a decision , why ? I will try to explain it . Until the moment of reading the letter of Belicena Villca my life was empty of ideals . I had a bright professional future and what I needed for my comfort ; I was lucky with women and although none could win my heart , sooner or later that would happen . Everything anticipated that my life would unfold along the tracks that lead to mundane success . And yet something was wrong with this scheme because I was not happy . I had peace and material tranquility but sadness often overwhelmed me ; I sensed that my Spirit lacked a horizon towards which to look , an ideal , a goal perhaps , worthy of the greatest sacrifice .
That is why I sometimes contemplated Universal History with envy , the heroic periods in which I would have liked to live : choose this or that side , follow this or that reformer , commit that liberating heresy or sink ardently in that tyrannical dogma . Live , fight , die , be a man ! But being a man is not just thinking ; it is " feeling " the Spirit . And the Spirit " feels " when life is oriented in the search for an ideal ; because the ideals are not in this world , they are of another order , the same as the Spirit and its like-minded .
It ' s not easy . Being an idealist requires a lot of courage since reality , deceptive and cruel , keeps a trap for the naive idealist and a grave for the committed idealist . I have seen how the idealistic element of my generation , was systematically annihilated and its ideals described as " nihilistic ". An Argentine Admiral who is considered an educated person , Massera , said in a speech : “ We are fighting against nihilists , against delusionals of the destruction , whose goal is destruction itself , even if they are maskerading as social redeemers ”. Many of the dead and missing were no such thing , but idealists who believed in the infantile myth of the " social revolution " as valid means to install a more just order in the world . Precisely for believing ( being idealistic ), they did not see the diabolical plot of interests in which they were inserted ; precisely for believing were some indoctrinated , armed and foolishly thrown into adventure , by the same Synarchic System that then repressed them . And I don ' t think only of those who took up arms , who perhaps deserved to die as stateless , but in so many others who fell without knowing the smell of gunpowder ; for committing the " crime " of loving ideals that affect some interest or privilege .
That is not nihilism ; nihilistic is the unbridled repression , the suffocating censorship , the instituted mediocrity , the officialized corruption , the handpicked brainwashing , in short , the implacable tyranny , obscenely cloaked in a " democratic " or " liberal " language .
The triumph of the System is the stability of a corrupt order of things , of a society built on usury and materialism , of a country drawn with a nib , to be inserted in a foreign geopolitics , planned in detail by the International Synarchy of the Great Imperialisms .
What does this contemporary world of dollars and steel offer us that is worth our sacrifice ? Here a decadent and sepoy culture ; there a terrorism without greatness ; there a repressive and murderous Power ; there a coward and liar church ; Why go on if everything stinks ?
This was my mood when I read Belicena Villca ' s letter and for that my reaction was instantaneous : I , the insignificant Dr . Siegnagel , little more than the number of a file or card , someone lost in the daily mediocrity of remote Salta : suddenly I am called on a risky mission , I am summoned by Fate !
The blood boiled in my veins and something like a reminiscence of past battles , got hold of me . Belicena wondered in her letter if I could be a Kshatriya : – Well , I already was !
Apart from this irresponsible enthusiasm , deep down I was experiencing a great astonishment as I tried to reason about the content of the letter . I could not deny that a tremendous primordial force
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