The Parallels

Prologue. The boy

What a horrible sound. It's 6 o'clock and an alarm clock was literally screaming. A boy put it off without looking on it.
"A new day, which will make me bored to death. I can't wait, when I finally come back to bed, fall asleep and escape from this repetitious, prosy world," this was the first thought in his head almost every morning. Not the best approach to life. But it's already become something like tradition.

He stood up, washed his face and brushed teeth - things the boy could do even in his sleep, so reflexive they were. Then he managed to do something for breakfast and left on the table a glass of juice and pill for his neighbour, who'll probably wake up with hungover.

The boy was about to go outside, when his sight stopped on his reflection in the mirror. From it at him was looking some young man with extremely old eyes. His black perfectly cut hair, pale skin, straight chin pointing upward, thin lips and high cheekbones screamed about classic English aristocratic appearance. The boy tried to find something new in that face, something, that hasn't been there for all his life, but he failed like every single day.

"This is how this world works," thought the boy, fighting the desire to break the mirror. "Some people are lucky enough to find their soulmates while they are young and then live happily together to the end of their days, playing with grandchildren and walking in the park. But some are just like me, who got stuck in his eighteens for three hundred fifty six god damn years."

***

"Young man, would be you so nice to tell me what are you doing right now?" the sound of the professor's voice made him to come out from some kind of trance. The boy looked around himself and realised that he's in the classroom.

"How did I get here?" appeared in his head as soon as memories came back.
He prepared a breakfast, drank coffee, took a moment of self-hatred, bought a box of cigarettes and a magazine, got to the college by bus, came into the classroom. These things he has done for years and brain has started to block or delete them. Sometimes he felt like old broken cell phone, whose memory does whatever it wants.

"So, will you give me any answer?" the professor reminded about his presence.
The boy took a quick look on the piece of paper on his table, hoping to find some notes, but he saw just sketch of some building, so it was time to say the first thing that came to mind.
"As you can see, I'm planning the building. I guess, this is what architects do," everyone in the class laughed, but professor's face was getting red.

"This is Class of Modern Architecture and you should listening to and making notes, not drawing some old houses!" he screamed and some students began whisper. Some professors are so sensitive, when it comes to their subjects, like they are protecting their own child.
"But modern art makes no sense, so I decided to start my diploma project," said boy, looking on his paper again. Actually, he wanted to write something on the lesson, but professor's voice was so boring, that he didn't notice when he started drawing.

"Get out of my class!!" jelled professor, pointing by his finger on the door. His face became even redder and he was looking like he is going to explode. The boy imaged teacher's brain on walls and on the floor, smiled and responded:
"With huge pleasure. I can draw in the hallway, there is more peaceful atmosphere," he shrugged and went out of the class, catching on himself classmates' confused glances.
After closing the door, he heart angry professor's voice "You won't pass my exam, I promise you!"

"But it isn't just old house..." said boy, holding paper on his arms, trying to figure out what he was planning to depict. The building was drawn with usual pen, but it was so mysterious and gorgeous and looked more like palace.

This house's been his dream since he was child. He wanted to live in it with his future family, but his mum ruined all hopes. She said that building houses wasn't good work for such clever and rich boy like he was.
"If my mum had found out that I am going to be an architect, she would have been really angry," he grinned, imagining his mother's reaction.

Thoughts about home and mum woke up other memories. The boy continued drawing, he started adding small details on the picture and colour it in order to distract. It didn't help, so memories, like a huge tsunami crashed into wall in his mind.
More and more days, years, names, faces began to appear in his head. Some of them brought happiness, other - sadness. And some were not emotional at all.

He recalled the main rule of this world. The boy was again 10 years old and listened his mum:
"Honey, when you will grow up, you will be handsome young man. You will have time to travel around the whole wide world, see wonderful things and learn something new. You will be still 18 years old and beautiful. When the right time comes, you'll meet girl, who is your soul mate. Then you will be happy and grow old with her. Just like your dad and I"

He hysterically laughed. It was 346 years ago. He still looked like 18 years old. He didn't grow old. It's like a really bad joke of destiny.

"Dear Universe," thought the boy. He didn't believe in God, but sometimes he had been talking to the Universe, knowing that no one hears him and wouldn't reply. "Why are you so evil? When I think about my family I really don't get your plan for me. My parents met when my mum was 40 and dad was 53. My sister met her future husband, when she was 13. They all had great lives. But I'm still here. So, where is my soulmate? Maybe she will be born in next century or she's living on other continent and I'll never meet her or she is already dead?".

These questions have been in his head for last two hundred years, but there was no answer. So he built again wall around memories in order to avoid them. You can live here only if you are apathetic to everything. You can live long only without feelings, when you stop being person, but become a survivor.

On the piece of paper had appeared huge family house, made in gothic style. Grey high steeple-roofed towers surrounded main part of castle. Large windows were catching sun rays.
Big oaken door was friendly opened. Around this castle-house was atmosphere of inscrutability.
"Yeah, it can definitely be my diploma work," thought the boy. He grabbed picture, put it in his backpack and took his way right to home.

"Enough college for today."