Hi 
Cada vez que se sentaba al borde del lago podía ver nuevamente aquello que quería olvidar, personas despedazadas por doquier, sus compañeros de pelotón hechos girones en medio de trozos de metal retorcido, con chispas y destellos de color verde azulado brillando por doquier en medio de aquel campo de cadáveres. Estrujo sus ojos y golpeo repetidamente su frente con la base de la palma de sus manos, cubrió sus ojos para tratar de apagar las imágenes a la vez que lanzaba un sonoro grito que espanto a una parvada de gorriones que estaban en los árboles sobre su cabeza.
Aquel maldito lago que había cambiado su vida, fue ahí donde se dio cuenta de la belleza que habitaba en la destrucción, los retorcidos exoesqueletos y los cuerpos brutalmente mutilados de los tres pelotones que fueron emboscados, parecieron formar, en su ya retorcida cabeza, un espectáculo horrorosamente hermoso. Se levantó de la yerba, sacudió el pasto y tierra de su pantalón y emprendió camino por el sendero, rumbo a su habitación.
Sentía el corazón latir agitadamente, la angustia le invadía, necesitaba crear, la espera lo agobiaba, pero aún no podía arriesgarse, debía esperar el momento oportuno para completar la obra por la que sería recordado siempre.
―No hay nada nuevo, lo único que cambió es que ayer en la tarde dio un paseo por el bosque, después de regresar de la galería, vio el ocaso en el lago y regresó poco después del anochecer ―dijo Alberto, mirando la pantalla de su comunicador.
―Hay varias cosas en esto que me tienen incomodo ―comentó Oliver, recargado en el respaldo de su silla, mientras miraba fijamente el techo ―. Lombard es un artista, según lo que hemos averiguado de él, toda su vida la ha dedicado a educarse como tal y sólo ha trabajado como uno.
―Y, ¿qué hay con eso? ―interrumpió Alberto.
―Como es que supo lo del TDTH y de donde lo saca, no es algo que pueda comprarse en una farmacia y por lo que se, incluso ha sido sacado de circulación en la mayor parte de las colonias, por el riesgo que implicaba su uso ―agregó Oliver.
―Tal vez lo compró en el mercado negro, tengo entendido que en varias estaciones espaciales de la periferia, aun es usado regularmente y puede ser que algún veterinario o su asistente, ansioso por algunos pocos créditos, se lo haya vendido ―especuló Alberto.
―Pero eso no resuelve de donde saco la idea y como aprendió a usarlo ―interrumpió Oliver, aun mirando el techo de su oficina―. Además, está el detalle de la falta de cualquier tipo de huella o rastro, los detectores no encontraron absolutamente nada; epiteliales, saliva, sudor, rastros químicos, fragancias, nada que no proviniera de la víctima, es como si nunca hubiese estado ahí, el único rastro es el video del dron de vida silvestre.
―Es un tipo obsesivo ya vio su habitación y estudio, todo meticulosamente ordenado y ni una mota de polvo a la vista ―dijo Alberto, mientras se acomodaba en la silla ―. Los videos de vigilancia del interior de su viviendo lo muestran continuamente limpiando y reubicando cualquier cosa que mueve, con precisión milimétrica, tal vez esa misma obsesión lo llevó a limpiar con extremo cuidado la escena.
―No creo que se pueda lograr hacerlo con tal precisión ―concluyó Oliver, levantándose repentinamente de la silla―. Nos vemos luego, voy a averiguar algo, necesito un transporte que me lleve a la base militar más próxima, creo que es la estación Prometeo, ahí está asentada la novena flota de Heracles.
En su apartamento, Bruno Lombard, merendaba frente a la ventana de su oficina contemplando el ir y venir de los árboles, mecidos por la intensa brisa que soplaba esa tarde, había comprado comida típica de Perseo, su mundo natal, fideos de arroz acompañados con salsa de cangrejo, odiaba cocinar, no le gustaba la comida de los generadores y preparar sus alimentos le parecía demasiado desordenado y sucio, se sentía más cómodo pasando por algún puesto de comida y comprar lo que le apetecía y sólo desechar los platos al terminar.
Al terminar, tiró los restos y ordenó nuevamente el escritorio, luego pasó el higienizador para recoger cualquier resto que pudiese haber quedado y se dispuso a salir al deposito a trabajar un rato. Mientras hacia esto los cinco diminutos dispositivos de vigilancia que habían sido colocados en su residencia seguían sus pasos con extremo celo; a su salida, los drones lo esperaban para seguir con el trabajo.
Every time he sat at the edge of the lake he could see again what he wanted to forget, people torn to shreds everywhere, his platoon mates spun in the middle of twisted metal pieces, with sparks and flashes of blue-green shining everywhere in the middle of that field of corpses. He squeezed his eyes and repeatedly struck his forehead with the base of the palm of his hands, covered his eyes to try to extinguish the images at the same time as he launched a loud scream that frightened a flock of sparrows that were in the trees above his head.
That damned lake that had changed his life, it was there where he realized the beauty that inhabited the destruction, the twisted exoskeletons and the brutally mutilated bodies of the three squads that were ambushed, seemed to form, in his already twisted head, a horrifyingly beautiful spectacle. He got up from the grass, shook the grass and soil from his trousers, and made his way along the path to his room.
He felt his heart beat agitated, anguish invaded him, he needed to create, waiting overwhelmed him, but he still could not risk it, he had to wait for the opportune moment to complete the work for which he would always be remembered.
-There is nothing new, the only thing that changed is that yesterday afternoon he took a walk through the forest, after returning from the gallery, he saw the sunset on the lake and returned shortly after sunset, -said Alberto, looking at the screen of his communicator.
-There are several things in this that make me uncomfortable, -commented Oliver, leaning on the back of his chair as he stared at the ceiling. Lombard is an artist, according to what we have found out about him, he has devoted his whole life to educating himself as such and has only worked as one.
-And what about that? -Interrupted Alberto.
-Since he knew about TDTH and where he gets it from, it's not something you can buy in a pharmacy and so it's even been taken out of circulation in most colonies, because of the risk involved in its use, - added Oliver.
-Maybe he bought it on the black market, I understand that in several space stations on the periphery, it is still used regularly and it may be that some veterinarian or his assistant, anxious for a few credits, has sold it to him, -said Alberto.
-But that doesn't solve where he got the idea and how he learned to use it, -interrupted Oliver, still looking at the ceiling of his office-. Also, there's the detail of the lack of any kind of print or trace, the detectors found absolutely nothing; epithelials, saliva, sweat, chemical traces, fragrances, nothing that didn't come from the victim, it's as if it had never been there, the only trace is the video of the wildlife drone.
-He's an obsessive guy, he's already seen his room and studio, everything meticulously tidied up and not a speck of dust in sight, -said Alberto, as he settled into the chair -. The surveillance videos of his living interior show him continually cleaning and relocating anything that moves, with millimeter precision, perhaps that same obsession led him to clean up the scene with extreme care.
-I don't think it can be done with such precision, - concluded Oliver, rising suddenly from the chair-. See you later, I'll find out something, I need a transport to take me to the nearest military base, I think it's the Prometheus station, there sits Heracles' ninth fleet.
In his apartment, Bruno Lombard, was snacking in front of his office window contemplating the coming and going of the trees, rocked by the intense breeze that afternoon, he had bought typical Perseus food, his native world, rice noodles accompanied with crab sauce, he hated cooking, he didn't like the food from the generators and preparing his food seemed too messy and dirty to him, he felt more comfortable going through some food stall and buying what he wanted and just throwing away the dishes at the end.
When he finished, he threw away the remains and tidied up the desk again, then passed the sanitizer to pick up any leftovers that might have been left and set out to the storage room to work for a while. As he did this the five tiny surveillance devices that had been placed in his residence followed his steps with extreme zeal; at his exit the drones waited for him to continue with the work.
Thank you
RE: The image is made of own imagination and thoughts