Literary Master 1983

Chapter 312 The Prophecy Will Eventually Come True
A hurricane destroyed the town of Macondo, but the real-life Aracataca still exists.

Before his death, Colonel Aureliano saw a prophecy of his impending demise in a parchment book; while Márquez himself saw a book called "2666" in which he said he would personally uncover the truth.

Everything is the opposite of reality; everything is like a world in a mirror. Someone wrote this story outside the mirror.

At that moment, Márquez felt that he was the man in the mirror, his past experiences overlapping with the story of today, making it impossible for him to distinguish whether he was in the real world or in a book.

He even had a fantasy similar to "Zhuangzi dreaming of a butterfly": Am I really existing now? Or am I living in a story written by someone?
I can already see my own ending?

If everything corresponds exactly, then the events described in Yu Qie's novel will actually happen.

How was he able to confirm that Neruda died from poisoning?

Why did he value that priest so much?

Why is he more convinced than I am that a horrific massacre once occurred in Colombia?

Is it possible that he foresaw these things?
Is what Archbishop Francis of Argentina saying true?
Gabriel García Márquez was a firm believer in fatalism. His novels almost depict generations endlessly reincarnating and repeating similar fates, and at that moment, he felt himself to be under some kind of destiny. He himself was not a devout Christian; literary scholars believe his faith was quite complex, including a fascination with Latin American indigenous witchcraft, an interest in Christian thought, and some borrowing from Eastern classics.

But the deepest meaning in Márquez's novels lies in religious thought. A local priest once told Márquez: "One Hundred Years of Solitude is the most Christian work I have ever read, because its fatalistic flavor is so strong."

Therefore, Márquez was essentially a believer in God. This is what the priest said.

This is similar to the view held by some that the death of Cuban revolutionary Che Guevara was a "Jesus-like martyrdom," though he himself may not have realized it, but he may have been influenced by this culture.

"Mr. Gabo? Mr. Gabo?"

The reporter waved.

Gabriel García Márquez suddenly realized: "Sorry!"

What were you thinking about just now?

“I’m thinking that something is bound to happen here, just like what Yu Che said when he gave a speech at the National Theater in Bogotá. He was bound to come here, he was bound to be our friend, even if he wasn’t born yet, some things are bound to happen.”

The reporter was completely baffled by Márquez. After thinking for a moment, he said, "Are you saying that Yu Qie's prophecy in the novel will come true?"

“In short, yes!” Márquez did not deny it.

The reporter was stunned by these delusional words and quietly took notes.

In the following days, Márquez stayed in Aracataca. There he witnessed the courage of the people to rebuild, and how this place had risen from ruin to new life. They had rebuilt a city.

After the typhoon, the people of Aracataca returned to their normal lives.

Even Márquez became an ordinary resident of Aracataca.

At first, the people here were always surprised to see him, but after a few days they got used to it because they always saw Márquez. Now, when they see Márquez, they just nod in greeting from afar.

The typhoon didn't disappear; it just left this place, but there are no traces of it left behind.

This made Márquez feel that a new cycle had begun.

This area is frequently hit by typhoons, but eventually even the locals forget that their hometown was ever destroyed. If anyone asks them, they will surely say, "Nothing happened here."

Only a few days have passed, and they're already saying nothing happened here.

Gabriel García Márquez addresses his hometown folks:
“Aracataca is not Macondo. Hope will arise here, and people will continue to live here. Just like the novels I write... uh... there is always a happy ending.”

He said, "In fact, I recently rewatched '2666,' and in it, I finally found what I had been searching for all my life, and what I dug out myself."

"Perhaps that was a prophecy, that I was involved in the reconstruction of my hometown? After all, that's what I came here for."

He laughed and said, "Yu Qie certainly foresaw it. He's a prophet. He wrote the scroll."

Márquez thought that was the end of it.

He called Yu Qie and joked, "I encountered something strange in Aracataca. I suddenly realized that my life is very similar to the one described in your novel. Then I was digging and shoveling dirt there... exactly like the ending of your novel. Yu Qie, you are a prophet."

"I'm unconsciously doing what you wrote in your novel."

Yu Qie, remembering that the massacre was still unresolved, retorted, "That wasn't my prophecy; you've misunderstood. Gabo, the time hasn't come yet."

"Okay! You're too persistent!"

Márquez then continued his shoveling and show in Aracataca, while the typhoon that was originally in northern Colombia moved south and swept through the capital Bogotá, causing historic torrential rains. As a result, part of the runway at the nearby El Dorado airport was washed away, exposing the hollow cave beneath the airport.

Media outlets from various countries have reported on this.

Upon hearing the news, Colombian President Bertancur exclaimed, "Damn it! Those places should be filled with cement!"

Beneath El Dorado Airport lies a vast, hollow landscape filled with countless caves; even the Colombians themselves don't know the exact size of this space. Located 15 kilometers from Bogotá, a city situated on a plateau, the airport was originally a natural drainage channel before its construction.

It's a labyrinthine area, far from the city center, so any sewage will naturally be dumped there, often resulting in a foul stench.

This is the smell that Qian Zhongshu and others smelled when they left Colombia in April of this year.

In the 1950s, this location was chosen to build an airport, and its excellent geographical location quickly became apparent: situated between two Americas, it was a natural transit point, and it soon became the airport with the largest cargo volume in all of Latin America, requiring expansion every so often.

According to President Betancourt's "major infrastructure plan," the renovation and expansion of El Dorado Airport is a top priority for the country's economic revitalization.

Because it always makes a fool of itself at crucial moments! Just like now!

So, Márquez rushed back to Bogotá to visit the workers who were building El Dorado Airport.

The journalist who was originally responsible for interviewing Márquez also accompanied him to El Dorado Airport. During the journey, Márquez had the leisure to explain the origin of the airport's name: "El Dorado, in Spanish, represents a mythical place with unimaginable wealth, like the Fountain of Youth, the Holy Grail, or Shangri-La. It was named for us by Europeans. Now we've taken that name and are using it ourselves."

"However, I feel that the name is unlucky."

"It is said that deep in the Amazon rainforest, there once existed a golden kingdom called Eldorado, where treasures were dazzling. Whoever possessed it could possess the whole world, attracting many explorers to search for it. However, they all came up empty-handed, and Eldorado became a lost city. Ironically, a real war was triggered over this non-existent city."

"And what about the United States? They have a giant gold mine in Alaska, also named Eldorado, where many miners died, and who knows how many bodies were buried. The Americans got as much gold as they left behind a number of corpses. I don't know why this airport is named Eldorado... In my opinion, this name is unlucky; it has the blood of Americans flowing in it."

At this point, Márquez suddenly began to tremble.

In a flash, everything became clear to him.

The land of gold, the lost city, the bloodstained sinful name, the vanished town of Macondo, and the ending written by Yu Qie in the novel "2666": Márquez himself discovered the truth.

He did indeed discover the truth.

He finally understood. He was so excited that his heart felt like it was going to jump out of his chest, but he couldn't show it too much. He was afraid that if he spoke out, the matter would be buried again.

"Do we have a shovel here?" Marquez asked.

Of course he did. Upon arriving at El Dorado airport, the staff went to great lengths to get Márquez a shovel. They assumed he would do what he did back home—shovel a few handfuls of dirt and make a show of it.

Give me the shovel!

But Márquez was so serious that he smelled a tremendous stench of rotten eggs, something he had previously dismissed as mere grumbling, but now he felt that a tremendous secret lay beneath.

What golden land?
What city doesn't exist?
Marquez was digging, panting heavily. His frantic state caught everyone's attention, and they all came to ask him what had happened.

“There are bodies here! A massacre has occurred here!” Márquez said.

No one believed Márquez's words.

Because El Dorado Airport has been renovated several times, there are indeed many holes inside. People may have died there, but it is not enough to be considered a "massacre".

There are too many brutal things happening in Latin America, and the criteria for determining a genocide have become inflated. At least dozens or hundreds of people must die for it to be considered a genocide, right?

Could it be that none of the many people who have lived here noticed?
Isn't this truly "magical realism"?

But Márquez persisted, continuing to dig with his shovel. He jumped into the pit and swung his shovel inside a collapsed hangar.

For his own safety, airport administrators forcibly stopped Márquez from acting, to which Márquez immediately shouted, "Don't stop me!"

The managers had no choice but to bring in an excavator and start digging right in front of Márquez, determined to turn the place upside down.

Since the hangar has already collapsed, what difference does it make to dig a little deeper?
The machine dug much faster, clearing away the construction debris in no time and gradually revealing the original appearance of the place.

A Chinese photographer named Liu Xiangcheng witnessed this scene upon arriving in Bogotá. Just a week earlier, he had been photographing young Chinese people reading Time magazine in the Chinese capital; a week later, he had personally witnessed the Nobel laureate going mad in front of him.

Latin America is wonderful; there's news about Latin America everywhere.

“Mr. Marquez, what are you doing?” Liu Xiangcheng asked in English.

Márquez hadn't intended to answer, as his English was terrible, but when he turned his head, he saw that the reporter was of Asian descent. Out of consideration for Yu Qie, Márquez said, "I believe the truth lies here."

Because of the story surrounding Márquez, namely the 1928 banana massacre, everyone knew what Márquez was digging up when he said that.

He was digging up a corpse.

Is it possible to dig it up?

An astonishing thing happened: in the hollows hidden by the ruins, something resembling a human arm actually appeared. Was it a cylindrical mineral or a naturally formed stalactite? At first, people didn't believe it, but unexpectedly, more and more of these things were dug up until a complete human body was found.

Immediately, some people began to gag. Márquez himself turned ashen-faced, staring blankly at the human tissue.

He found the answer: this was the land of gold, this was the lost city.

He spent his whole life writing novels, searching for this very thing.

Are these the people who were massacred in 1928? That fraction of three thousand?

It no longer matters, because the presence of one cockroach signifies the infestation of a swarm. The banana massacre of 1928 was just one of countless tragedies occurring here, right under people's noses, and yet no one knew. They all said nothing happened here. In reality, it happened every single day.

El Dorado Airport is the largest cargo airport in Latin America. Countless people live and stay here, more than the population of a city, but no one notices that something is wrong.

Then, the number of corpses that resurfaced increased, even piling up in heaps, like grain in a market, neatly arranged. They were here, they were there. Their postures were bizarre; some were missing limbs, some appeared to have parts of their bodies removed. They lay there quietly, like emptied scarecrows.

The entire hangar reeked of an indescribable odor, a hundred or a thousand times larger than before. It seemed to have a shape, as if blood mist was permeating the air.

Based on what is visible to the naked eye, there are at least a hundred. This is only the "discovery results" from a short period of time.

Márquez also gagged, then knelt on the ground, kowtowing with tears streaming down his face, and covered his face with his hands. At that moment, he was ashamed to be a Colombian, and he felt his heart shatter completely.

"Kacha!"

Photographer Liu Xiangcheng captured this scene and prepared to send the photos back to the United States.

Unexpectedly, this incident is not yet over. At the same time, a shooting occurred on a hilltop in Bogotá. The injured person is Chinese writer Yu Qie. It is said that several Chilean agents were staking out near his residence and opened fire on him as soon as he left the downtown area.

However, the one leading the way was a lean security guard, who was struck by a bullet and died instantly. The most burly man at the very back was the writer, Yu Qie. He drew his gun and returned fire without hesitation, killing two agents and wounding another who escaped but was later captured.

(End of this chapter)