February 6th, 1970.
They have discovered me, they know about my existence. They know about my inmortality. It's the first time in hundreds of years that it has happened. It all started two weeks ago, when I saw a group of men wearing suits staring at me in the distance while I was having breakfast at a local restaurant. The waitress smiled at me before she gave me my coffee. Pretty sure she put spit in it for the last time I didn't have enough coins for tips. Anyway, after paying for cold waffles, sour orange juice and a coffee that tasted like dirt, I left the restaurant. A few minutes after, the first man in black came out, at that point I was pretty sure the mafia was back with their bullshit. Oh, how I wished it was that.
Days passed, but they wouldn't leave me in peace. I couldn't tell anyone about this, I could be risking their life too. They tried to reach me lots of times, and everytime I would have a different accent for them, no english here mister. This morning they got tired of my bullshit and knocked on my door. Everything seemed to be going really slow, everything but my heart beat. I held my breath for at least two minutes, as they continued knocking and saying they knew I was there. Finally, I gave up trying to scape my fate, and opened the door.
There he was, Joe, a man a few inches shorter than me, black hair that was turning grey, wrinkles around his lips and green eyes.
–Mister Christopher Acker, right? Let me introduce myself, Joe Evans, NASA agent —he took out his pocket a small card with his personal information— It's starting to get chilly, may I come in?
Without saying a word, I nodded my head and opened the door completely for him. After closing it, I locked it. Why, if they were already in? I asked myself as I followed the man to my own living room. It was like he already knew every room, and probably, he did. I looked around my own house, and having this man stopped the feeling of being home. The walls weren't as blue as always, the furniture didn't feel mine. And the photographs hanging on the wall felt even less personal than other times. Of course they would feel that way, I don't even know these people, I got the pictures by taking them from offices or friend's houses over the years. They had so many of them they probably wouldn't miss one, right? Joe sat down in one of my wooden chairs, that crooked every time someone sat on them. Joe put a black binder with the NASA logo printed on it, I swallowed as I sat down next to him. In that moment, I was a guest in my own house.
–I have brought some pictures for you to see, maybe you will recognize some of them –Joe said, as he opened it.
The pictures were old, some of them were even broken, but I could still recognize the people in them, I could even recognize myself, standing right beside a Police officer from New York in the year 1906.
–So, how old are you, mister Acker?
–Just turned 23 this week, agent Evans.
The words I spoke came out as bitter as I thought they would. Maybe they have me where they want to, but I won't make it easy for them.
–So, how do you explain this picture? Or this one, or this one —Joe showed my the photos one by one, me working on a field, one of my mugshots from 20 years ago, me in a trip to Africa 50 years ago.
–I just have a really common face I guess, must admit those are some handsome lads –I chuckled, in a stupid try to make the situation at least funny.
–Cut the lies, Acker —Joe said— You can't deny this is you. And this picture is from the 1800. There is record of men with the initials 'CLA' since 1600, and they look identical. I guess you feel like you did something wrong, but you didn't. I hope you know a part of me would hate myself for doing this, for disturbing your life like this, but there is so much in game...
The blood left my face in seconds, there was no way I could deny those pictures. There I was, in World War Two, dressing the american soldier uniform. My hair was short, my body was bruised, my lip was bleeding and my face was covered in dirt. But that's how war works. That's how war looks on me.
–I don't know what are you talking about. And I just can't help you, specially if your work for NASA, I don't know anything about planets or space.
Joe sighed, as he took one cigar out of a metal box. He looked at me with a serious expression, but I could tell there was at least pity in his eyes. I couldn't be in a good situations, no matter how this turned out. He lit the cigar, using a match from a box that I left on the table a few days ago.
–But you could. Look, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. You just can't win this one, Acker. You think we have been in your life for just a few weeks, but no, I have been studying your case for seven years, and you haven't made it easier. Whatever you choose to do, we already won. We already know your secret. And let me say, it's amazing how well you look, even when you are at least 200 years older than me. Immortality fits you perfectly. Listen, this could give your life a whole new purpose. A purpose only you could achieve.
I sighed, for the first time I thought my life has ended, even though I can't die. Who would have thought they would catch me in a small town, where pretty much nothing ever happened. I would have already left if it wasn't for her. Her. They must know about her, they know about everything. And now that he mentioned it, my life felt meaningless. Since I discovered that I am immortal my life has consisted in smaller or bigger adventures, adventures that would quickly end, and my friends would die a few years after them. So I moved from country to country, trying to feel something new.
–Okay –I mumbled– what are your plans for me?
