“Mr. Kelsey, good afternoon. This is Adam White. Do you remember me?”
“Who?”
“Adam White from the Proxima Orphanage. I contacted you a few years ago; I don’t know if you remember.”
“Oh! Yes, yes…”
“You worked at the reception in the Proxima Central Hospital when I was found. You remember my case?”
“Hmm… Haven’t we talked about it already, boy?”
“Uh… Yes, yes. It’s just that… Well, y’know, I met my brother, and he lives—lived in Pannotia.”
“Oh! Congratulations! Glad to hear that.”
“Thank you—Mr. Kelsey, since you filled out thousands of forms in your day, I was wondering if you remember admitting someone from there, some refugee from the Markabian Empire, perhaps. Not just abandoned children, I mean, anyone.”
“Hmm, no. I’m afraid not, boy. I don’t know if things are different today, but at that time, there were a lot of diplomatic problems with the authorities of that continent.”
“I get it. Never mind. Thank you for your attention, Mr. Kelsey. Goodbye.”
----------------------------------------
“Mrs. Page, good afternoon. This is Adam White. Remember me?”
“Do I! The little kid who always made the girls cry.”
“Yes, yes. That one!” Adam faked a chuckle.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“Are you still showing yourself half-naked in the pictures?”
“No, no, Mrs. Page. I don’t model anymore.”
“Fine. I’m happy to hear that. You were gonna end badly if you went down that path, kid.”
“I know, I know—Mrs. Page, I wanted to know if you remember anything about my case. Something about the city of Markabia. You see; something has come up recently and—”
“No, no. I remember nothing about my time at the orphanage. My memory isn’t the same as before. Sorry.”
Liar, Adam thought. You remember I made the girls cry, but suddenly your memory isn’t the same as before?
“I’m sorry, kid. But you can talk to Mirtha from reception; maybe she knows something.”
“All right, I’ll do it. I appreciate your attention, Mrs. Page. Have a nice day.”
“Goodbye. And remember never to take pictures of yourself naked again. You are worth more than that.”
“I will, Mrs. Page. I will. Thank you.”
----------------------------------------
“Yes?”
“Mrs. Rugertoff?”
“Who is it?”
That definitely was not Mrs. Hilda Rugertoff. It was the voice of a jumpy young woman.
“Good afternoon. My name is Adam White—”
“White? You’re one of her kids from the orphanage, right?”
“Yes, you can say that. Mrs. Hilda was the director during my time there.”
“I knew it! Proxima Regulations on Orphanages and Foundlings, Article 986. I’m studying law, y’know? We touched on that subject recently.
“Uh… That’s nice of…”
“The great economic collapse of 2060 brought a great number of suicides and broken families, causing an increase in the number of abandoned children. The law says that the name of the foundling will be assigned by the person who assists him at the time of admission, and as his last name, will bear the color of the area where he was found until the day someone claims him, or someone adopts him. Is that so, or am I wrong?”
“Uh… You did study a lot, alright.”
“I did!”
“Good, good. You see; I wanted to get in touch with Mrs. Rugertoff…”
“I’m sorry. My grandma passed away a few years ago.”
“Oh! I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine. My name is Valeria. Hey, if you’re interested in participating in a dissertation on politics about the city’s orphanages, I can call you when—”
“I’m sorry, Valeria, but right now… I’m with something else here. I’d be happy to do it next time, though.”
“All right. No problem.”
“Nice to meet you, Valeria. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Ad—!”
Click! Communication’s over. And along with it, his desire to keep looking into his past.