Franz sat in silence, staring at his father as he continued his story. But as Eustakyo spoke, Franz felt an unbridgeable gap growing between them.
The man sitting before him was no longer the same father who had taken him on childhood excursions to the Białowieża Forest, sharing dreams of distant expeditions and crossing oceans. That man had not returned from the fateful journey. His body had returned, his voice, his mannerisms—but his mind had been replaced by something else. Something fractured.
No one had noticed the change, perhaps because the seed of an idea Eustakyo carried within him had lain dormant at first, hidden in the folds of his eccentricities. But over time, it sprouted, overtaking his life and drawing him away from the world Franz knew.
Now, as his father recounted his tale, Franz wasn't truly listening. His mind had already reached its verdict.
"The being," Eustakyo continued with fervor, "was like a man made of metal, no taller than a meter. It spoke perfect Polish to me—but also German, English, and other languages. It explained how it had observed European men before, but we're dangerous. Our hunger for material things is insatiable. They know our languages, our machines, even our wars."
He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with conviction.
"I understood," Eustakyo said with finality.
Franz's voice was dry, detached. "And then what?"
"He chose me," Eustakyo declared, his enthusiasm undimmed by his son's reaction. "Because of my knowledge of insects. They study insects, plants, all living things. They want to repair the world. He gave me that revelation!"
Eustakyo's excitement filled the room, but it only deepened Franz's sadness. He looked at his father, his expression a mix of disbelief and sorrow.
The room fell silent.
"You need help, Dad," Franz finally said, his voice steady but full of pain. "Medicine has advanced a lot since then."
"I'm not a madman, son." Eustakyo sighed, resignation seeping into his tone. "I know it's hard to believe. That's why I've kept this secret from the world. But I shared it with you because I thought you would understand how important it is."
Franz shook his head. "You're wrong, Dad. I can't believe any of it. You were sick. You ate food your body couldn't handle, caught some infection, and got a fever. You said the tribesmen didn't speak your language. It was all a hallucination—your mind filled in the gaps with the sounds of your own language."
Eustakyo didn't respond. The silence between them solidified, a heavy, unspoken acknowledgment of the divide that could never be crossed.
This would be the last conversation Franz ever had with his father.
