We paced through the hamlet, just like that. Our steps weren't exactly fast, but you couldn't call them slow either. We walked for a while. Then Hasan knocked on the door of a house tucked away on the far end of the settlement, half-forgotten in some corner. I heard the sound of a bolt sliding behind the door, and they exchanged some words I couldn't quite catch. Then we went in.
We moved into a relatively small room in the house, one of those with a cheap little coffee table in the center.
"Are you finally going to open your mouth now?" asked Muzaffer, leaning back.
"For the most part, yes… but still…"
"Oh, cut the crap," Muzaffer grumbled.
"If you could understand, you'd agree," Hasan replied. "For now, I'll just keep it rough. Let's start from the beginning. Why you're being watched, and why this is all happening to you," he said, collecting himself. "Or, more to the point, why I pulled Celal out of there. First of all, Forman's goal is crystal clear. He wants to impose his own system on the world. We agree on that, right?"
"How does he plan on doing that?" I asked, cutting in.
"In a strange, yet equally dangerous way…" he answered. "Simple physics question: what happens if an object's speed somehow equals the speed of light?"
"Time comes to a stop," said Fuat.
"Exactly... when an object moves at the speed of light, time stops. But what if… the object exceeds the speed of light?"
"It would travel backward in time?"
"Precisely," Hasan nodded in approval.
"But that's impossible with what we currently have," Fuat interjected again. "So in the end…"
"What if I told you there was something on this Earth that could make that possible?"
"What?"
"Like I said. There is something on this planet that could make it happen... even in trace amounts."
"And what does that have to do with any of this?" Muzaffer suddenly chimed in. "Are we in physics class now?"
"If you'd just listen for two minutes, you'd get it. Please, shut your mouth and just listen..." Hasan warned him in a half-passive-aggressive tone. "Look, there are certain things in this world that can control concepts. Concepts—and more specifically, time. What would you say if I told you I could read your memories?"
"I'd tell you to piss off," Muzaffer shot back.
"The man who raised you is named Korkut. You never knew your father. Your mother was a Yörük from Muğla. And the girl you tried to marry in high school—her name was Nihal, wasn't it, Celal?"
"What?" Muzaffer paused for a second. Hasan immediately seized the moment and pressed his palm against Muzaffer's forehead, just a short reach away.
"What the hell are you doing…" Muzaffer swatted his hand away, whispering in a surprised tone. He wasn't angry—more like confused.
"You can lift up to 100 kilos from the shoulder, and you've got a soft spot for doo-wop songs, right? Also, the boxers you're wearing—they're gray."
"Dude…" Muzaffer instinctively checked his pants.
"I think I've made myself clear, gentlemen. As you can see. But this power has limits. I can't draw anything out of you unless you're actively thinking about it. My ability is pretty simple in principle—it runs on electricity. I pull electric current from the synapses in your brain. That current gets decrypted in my mind, and I see your memory. Of course, I can't do this without your mental consent... not for ethical reasons—literally, I just can't. You have to be thinking about it. It's not much different from just saying it out loud. Anyway..."
Suddenly, it was like the electricity in the room went out. The bulb stopped glowing. Then, with a tiny spark, it flickered back on.
"What you just saw, guys—that's the signature of this power. My real ability is controlling electricity. Or more precisely, controlling currents in certain places. That's the gist of it. These powers are called Springs. No one really knows where the power originates from, but the rumor is that it came from a stone that fell from space, and that certain people can tap into its energy."
"Rumor?" Muzaffer interjected again.
"Long story. If I started, we'd be here till morning. Let's just say word of its existence leaked to us from certain places. You know how bad American intelligence agencies are at keeping secrets."
"Makes sense."
"That's the deal. You gain this power by being exposed to the material known as Spring. It varies from person to person, and I honestly don't know how it works exactly—but that's how it is. Celal—you remember, right? That time you went to the ancient city with Muzaffer? You guys clashed there…"
"I don't remember any of that…"
"Exactly. Certain memories were erased from your mind. Just like how you don't recall that weekend, Celal. They were removed. By someone like me—another Spring user. Because they didn't want you near that place. What you saw there were just distortions of the past, echoes of long-forgotten days."
"Can you talk less poetically, man? You're turning this into a mess again..." Muzaffer grumbled.
"Long story short—that place wasn't real. Something merely showed you a mirage. There really was a city like that, once. It's just not in the records. But what you saw was just an empty cave. The memories you experienced were relics from ancient times. Put more plainly… you saw someone else's memories. And somehow, someone made sure you saw them. After that..."
"They came after us..." I said without thinking.
"That's exactly what happened. Somehow, they found out you had gone there. So they killed Remzi as a warning. They could have just erased his memories. But they realized someone was digging, and they wanted to send a message... a very clear one."
"But Remzi, he…"
"Let's just say he got his hands on some documents by chance. I didn't like him either, but... the guy was damn close to figuring out Forman's secret. He wrote everything in a notebook. Kept digging deeper every day, using his contacts. But then... well, you know what happened. His investigation died with him."
"What secret are we talking about?"
"Something even we don't know..." Hasan replied. "There's still a lot we don't understand in this story."
"So how do you know all this?" asked Muzaffer, tilting his chin upward. "Knowing this much would usually be... suspicious."
"Long story, guys. Some things I have to keep to myself. Still... I've got a grudge with Forman—or whoever's there now. I need to face the ruins of my past."
"So... you were with him once?"
"No. But I was the victim. Me, and many others... people who probably died because of my stupidity. That's all I'll say."
I knew Hasan wouldn't talk. He wasn't going to open up. Up until now, he'd been strategic—careful not to give more than necessary, yet still trying to pull us to his side. He wasn't a fool, that much was clear. And after everything I'd been through, I didn't think he was just making this up. He didn't have that in him. I also knew pushing him wouldn't work. It'd be pointless.
Muzaffer asked again in a silent but griveous way
"Again... Who exactly are you?