— But I was immediately put on alert by the strong smell of droppings, clearly of animal origin. "That means there could be predators somewhere nearby," I thought, growing wary. My condition was excellent! Not a hint of a hangover. The same surge of vigor and energy as every morning these past few days. That was certainly pleasing. But imagine my surprise when I rose to my knees to look around! Fifteen to twenty meters away from me, two large apes were "having breakfast." They were probably chimpanzees—I'm not particularly knowledgeable about them—but they were nearly my size. The worst part was that they spotted me too and charged in my direction with screams! I nearly added a human scent to the animal dung smell out of sheer terror! I bolted as fast as my legs could carry me, running wherever my eyes led! I ran with absolutely no idea where I was going, branches of shrubs whipping my face, pain shooting through my bare feet with every step as thorns constantly pierced them, but I paid no attention to any of it. Adrenaline was off the charts, endowing my body with superhuman strength. But my sprint didn't last long...

  John paused his story for a moment to ask Maurice for another cigarette.

  — Did the monkeys catch up with you? I've heard there have been cases where they've even killed people — Said took advantage of the pause.

  — No. I slammed full speed into something very hard and thin. At first I thought someone had hit me on the head from the opposite direction. I fell on my back and a few seconds later felt a terrible pain around my forehead, then a trickle of blood ran down into my right eye. Lifting my head, I realized I had smashed into a steel grate. And from the other side of that fence came a little girl's voice: "Mommy! Look, there's a man running away from the monkeys!"

  I saw a girl of about seven and her frightened mother, who was already looking around for help. A minute later, a man in a gray uniform was running toward me. This was a zoo!

  John looked at the faces of his listeners and realized that telling everything in such detail and with such emotion had not been in vain.

  — I exhaled and realized the monkeys weren't going to devour me. They had just arrived and apparently simply wanted to get acquainted. At least, that's how it seemed to me. Blood was gushing like from a faucet, and my t-shirt looked like a butcher's. That's the state I was in when a zoo employee grabbed me and hurried me off to the first aid station. As we approached the administrative building, I noticed a promotional poster on the wall that read: "Welcome to Rockhampton Zoo!" That's how I realized I had been transported to Rockhampton, Australia.

  The local medic tried to stop the bleeding, but wasn't having much success. So they called an ambulance and I was taken to the hospital. After they stitched up the wound on my forehead, I told my whole story to the surgeon who had operated on me. I wanted him to examine me more thoroughly and perhaps find an explanation for my travels. As expected, he didn't believe me and refused to do anything without referrals from the appropriate doctors. As he walked me to the reception ward, he mentioned that I could get examined privately, for a fee. And that's when I realized this was my only chance! I began pleading with him to examine me, promising to pay whatever he asked and even more. After I got down on my knees right there in the corridor, in front of everyone, he agreed, but told me to wait until his lunch break. In the end, he ran a complete examination. Even did a brain scan with an MRI machine. Then informed me that I was perfectly healthy, and all my readings were like those of a twenty-year-old. I never would have thought such news could be upsetting. But I was genuinely disappointed at that moment.

  — Anyway, I left the hospital, saying I needed to get my credit card from the hotel. And they let me go on my word of honor. Can you imagine, what oddballs these Australians are?! — John smiled.

  — Wait, that was allowed?! That means you could live without money at all! — Maurice said dreamily.

  — Yes, the value of money is greatly exaggerated in our society. Now I'm absolutely convinced of that! No, things are certainly easier with money! But many people attach an inflated importance to it and even treat it as sacred. And it's definitely not worth spending your entire life accumulating wealth. There are so many other interesting things! — John replied, feeling like a sage who had grasped the truth.

  — Well, what happened next? You didn't stop searching, did you? — asked Nusier.

  — Not at that moment. I wandered all day through the sunny Australian city, reflecting on the impossibility of what had happened to me. By evening, I stumbled upon a library that offered free internet access. For roughly three or four hours, I searched for any information about cases similar to mine. But I found nothing. Funny thing: I visited the news website of the city of Schein in Norway and found a short article about two doctors who claimed that a patient they were accompanying in an ambulance had "dissolved" right before their eyes. They said the person simply vanished in an instant. The author of the article reduced it all to a humorous context, while the poor doctors were interrogated by the police for quite some time.

  — Today is already January twenty-eighth. How did a man without money or documents, in nothing but underwear and a t-shirt, manage to survive for almost a month and a half, waking up in different parts of our planet?! — asked Maurice, then added: — You're very lucky, John...

  — Maurice, I face various difficulties every day. Believe me, it's very hard. But still, I'm here... Even now I can say that I've understood a great deal about my life, even more than I could have imagined. But let me take things in order. Let me briefly tell you about my journey. If I go into this much detail about every single day, we'll be sitting here until summer. And I don't even remember many of the days... some turned out to be quite fun, but short.

  The starry blanket had completely wrapped Port Sudan in its cool embrace and isolated its domain from outside noise, leaving the privilege of voice only to the nocturnal denizens of the animal kingdom.

  The gazebo was steeped in an atmosphere of antagonism between rational consciousness and incredible fantasies, a search for the boundary between truth and fiction, a struggle between the comfort of mundane life and the alluring pull toward exploring something greater, unknown, impossible, intriguing.

  — On one hand, John's story sounds like the fabrication of a psychopath, on the other — how much one wants to believe him… — Maurice reflected.

  — How wonderful it would be to just wake up like that in another country... Even without money or clothes! Every morning of mine in Sudan is pretty much the same as all the ones before. Too bad these are only dreams... Even if it were true, how would I get back home? After a week of absences, they'd fire me! And then what? — Saeed had already "planned out" his virtual journey a week in advance.

  — I wonder why this happened specifically to John? And most importantly — for what purpose? Could it simply be some freak of nature? Is there a purpose to his travels? — Nusier pondered deeply, having moved past the stage of doubting the truthfulness of John's story.

  A solitary light bulb diffused its artificial glow through a cloud of tobacco smoke, and it seemed that even the moths beating themselves in suicidal agony near that bulb were waiting for John's story to continue. And he hastened to satisfy everyone's expectation.

  — Well, the next few weeks were the most "fun" of my life... I tried several times to see doctors to figure out the nature of my displacements, but it yielded no results. And each time it was quite an ordeal, since without money, documents, or even clothes, arranging for help was rather difficult. The internet didn't give me any leads or clues either, or maybe I just wasn't searching hard enough. The failures in my search and the daily struggle for survival plunged me into a state of despair. Every day I was forced to find myself food and clothing. Begging for help from complete strangers, mostly receiving refusals, as they took me for a homeless beggar.

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  — And that was when I was "lucky" enough to wake up in civilized conditions… — It was incredibly hard on me mentally—I considered all my actions humiliating and disgusting. And the worst part was that I didn't know if it would ever end. The thought that I might spend my whole life waking up in that state simply devoured me from the inside!

  — I felt absolutely alone in this world... — And I was convinced that everything that had happened was a terrible injustice, even toward someone as far from ideal as myself. Rage at the entire world overflowed... but nothing changed. The world couldn't care less about my suffering and grievances about loneliness. Just as in my ordinary life, really. Nothing had fundamentally changed. It had only been thrown into sharper relief because the everyday problems that had masked that deep-seated pain—festering like a cancerous tumor—had been stripped away.

  — I remember that day I was freezing at a metro station in Naples when I realized I had become completely emotionally drained, hit "rock bottom," so to speak… A state of total acceptance of the situation set in, absolute apathy toward everything happening around me. I wanted only one thing—for all of this to end as quickly as possible. How? It didn't matter! I accepted death too. But even if that didn't happen, I thought that when I woke up next time, I simply wouldn't move from the spot. And I would repeat my "paralysis" again and again. At that moment, a group of young guys and girls walked past me, clearly tipsy, laughing loudly, drinking wine straight from the bottle, some walking arm in arm and kissing. They were so genuine, carefree, sincere! Simply enjoying life, delighting in each other's company, and happy for no particular reason at all! They passed by and stopped not far from me, at the edge of the platform waiting for the train. The whole time I watched them with completely empty eyes, yet deep down I envied their lightness and simple human happiness.

  One guy with a bottle in his hands noticed me staring at them. He was young, handsome, and his eyes burned with anticipation of a happy and exciting life, or at least an evening. The young man walked toward me with a confident stride. My brain instantly got a hit of adrenaline, and my heart started pounding much harder. I was certain they were about to humiliate me, maybe even beat me. Even though I didn't give a damn about my life, the survival instinct hadn't gone anywhere.

  — How are you, my friend? — he asked warmly and good-naturedly. Even with my poor understanding of Italian, I caught his friendly intent. — He started asking me something, but I could no longer understand him. Eventually he pulled out some cash and handed it to me. At that moment, the noise of an approaching train rang out, and the guy hurried off to his friends. He turned around halfway, ran back to me, and gave me an opened bottle of wine. After that, I only managed to catch a glimpse of them piling into the train car as a rowdy group and speeding off into their future. Watching the departing train, I felt something joyful settle into my soul. "Apparently, this is what they call hope. In an instant, I began to see my situation from an entirely different perspective. Though I hadn't fully grasped everything yet, it was precisely in that moment that I pushed off from my rock bottom."

  — I remember telling myself: "Why am I suffering so much? I've got a perfect chance to have the time of my life! And even if I die or get killed, it can't get any worse! Come on, John, get your ass up and let's throw one hell of a party at the end of your days! And hey, maybe the end isn't even that close!" I steeled my resolve by taking two large gulps of young Pinot Grigio and set off to meet my destiny. Or so I thought at the time.

  John took two big gulps of Sudanese water with the same pleasure as he had Italian wine back in Naples. And, without waiting for questions, continued his story.

  — With this new awareness of my movements, I began to live the way I wanted at that moment. Yes, the difficulties didn't disappear, but I looked at them completely differently... with ease. I accepted the situation and decided to use it to live life to the fullest. When I woke up in cities, I easily found work "for food," mostly in bars and restaurants. I was a cleaner, bartender, dishwasher, even a waiter once. This gave me access to food, drinks, and a uniform. And I must admit, I did brilliantly because I did everything with ease and without society's prejudices. I didn't care what others or the bosses thought of me. I simply did what I was focused on from the heart, without masks or personas. After work, I went out with my colleagues and new friends to parties at clubs and bars. I quickly found common ground with almost anyone because I was sincere and open. I didn't need to create some image or lie to people. I was revealing my true self without realizing it at the time. I got drunk in Berlin bars, partied at cool villas in Thailand, was on a cruise ship in the Mediterranean, learned to meditate in Ubud, went to gay parties in Rotterdam, drank vodka with Russians in Syktyvkar, swam in the Caribbean Sea, watched sunsets in Chennai... And there was plenty more besides.

  Of course, there were moments when things weren't so rosy. For instance, I was nearly killed by local gangsters in a South African ghetto. Once I woke up in the middle of a snowy steppe—Siberia, maybe, or perhaps Greenland, or somewhere else entirely, I never figured it out. It was freezing cold! After fifteen minutes I realized I wouldn't find any signs of urban life, and the most sensible thing was to try falling asleep, which I did right there in a snowdrift. I remember I could no longer feel my limbs and thought I was going to die. That probably would have happened, but somehow I miraculously survived the night, and when I woke up I was already in a completely different place.

  When I couldn't find work, I spent time with vagrants and lived off scraps, like in Dallas and Palmas, for instance. I often had to steal. And once in Bogotá I ended up in a drug den. I spent several days there because I was snorting some rubbish that kept me from sleeping. I'd never used drugs before, so I decided to give it a try. I don't understand how people use them for months or even years. I saw such things there... you don't need to be a doctor to understand—it's a direct path to the grave! But the peculiarity of my travels is also that I wake up each time completely healthy and renewed. No matter what state I was in the night before.

  I realized that a person can adapt to absolutely any conditions. Nevertheless, if I woke up in a place where survival was difficult, the climate was harsh, there was no civilization, or I simply didn't like it... I would just change it! It wasn't hard—all I had to do was fall asleep. But even that didn't always work out, so whenever possible, I would get my hands on sleeping pills. In short, I saw a great deal over those weeks...

  — You even managed to withdraw money here, didn't you? Why haven't you been using it before? — Maurice correctly pointed out.

  — Oh! It's a long story! But an interesting one! In short, one day I was lucky enough to wake up in Turkey at an exclusive luxury resort for very wealthy people. There I met Igor, a Russian oligarch. When we'd had quite a bit to drink, I told him my story. He laughed for a long time and, of course, didn't believe me. So I offered to make a bet with him that if I called him tomorrow from the other side of the world, he would owe me one thousand dollars. To which he said: "You and I are going to drink tonight until we drop, and you'll hardly be able to leave your room tomorrow, let alone travel to another country!" And he laughed loudly again. Nevertheless, we shook hands, and he added: "If everything you're saying is true, then it's a unique gift from God, for which I'd be willing to give all my money! Here's my personal number." Igor handed me a business card with just a number on it and nothing else. Of course, I memorized it by heart—you can't lose contacts like that!

  — I don't remember how I fell asleep after that glorious drinking session, but I woke up in the suburbs of Edmonton. I found a way to call Igor and told him where I was. He couldn't believe it for a long time, even after he traced the location of my Canadian number. Igor kept his word and then some... he opened an account for me at his financial company, which operates worldwide. An account for one thousand dollars. But it's not that simple. The account resets every day—meaning if I withdraw any amount up to a thousand dollars today, tomorrow my account will have a thousand again. This incident happened not long ago, probably eight or nine days back. Since then I've been withdrawing money, whenever I can.

  — But how do you withdraw money without a card or documents? — Maurice inquired.

  — I have a special code that works in any ATM.

  — A thousand dollars!!! I don't know how much that is in our money, but I'm sure it's a lot! John, you're incredibly lucky! I wish I could be in your shoes! — Said said enviously.

  — And what kind of bandits were in South Africa? I heard that our Harami gang extended its dirty hands there too! — asked Nusier.

  — For that, you must tell me about them, — said John, and he saw how Said and Nusier's expressions changed as they lowered their gazes.

  The cozy story night just took a sharp turn into a nightmare. Who are these soldiers, and what do they really want with a man who technically doesn't exist?

  If you're enjoying John's journey through the paradox, please Follow, Rate, and Review! Your support is the only thing that keeps me writing as fast as John travels. See you in the next chapter