(This is a rush translation. Version may not be in its final form.)
I leave in this personal diary something that will only come to the public perhaps after my death. I do not know what happened, nor how everything had such a precise result. But I must record here what happened. I know how to write.
I woke up on my birthday with the gray autumn light. My mother gave me a happy hug, we was going to the caves to do the walk I wanted.
Our slave made the coffee and wished me good luck.
The receptionist at the inn said they were a little afraid, there had been an accident with a memory a few days before. No one knew the cause yet.
The white-bearded man smiled at us.
"There was a time," he said, "in which you engraved your soul on stones and soft surfaces. Now, it's us. What do you want to know about?"
"The origin of the slave corpses," I said.
I woke up with a kind of buzzing in my ear, an autumn wind. It took me a while to see what was around me. The walls, the floor, the furniture. I jumped up. Should not I be in the hostel room?
I put on my clothes and went downstairs.
- Mother? This is a dream...
- What my love? - she said.
I went to my room again - unwittingly I broke the eastern vase near the stairs - and looked at my calendar. It was one day before my birthday.
The eastern vase was in perfect state.
My father comes to visit me.
"I will not be here in your day."
"Dad, have you heard of an accident with a memory?"
"You need to stop this obsession with the past. It's no use. What produces are the numbers. You will end up in prison as subversive".
Our corpse slave turned on the TV.
- Accident kills a memory on the beach 9-200.
"That did not happen," I said.
I ran to the news station.
I explained to half a dozen people that I had a "bomb." Finally I sat in the room of the thin, sickly-looking man.
- There will be an accident on the beach 9-200 tomorrow. You need to cover the event, "I said.
The reporter looked nervous:
"Boy, we're investigating a series of bomb attacks and a kidnapping. Do not come...
- From who?
- A scientist.
I got up and stood at the door.
"It's the ideas, you see? If humans do not have memories, they will be weak." I left thinking about who would want revenge.
I woke up four days before my birthday.
Before my mother came into the room, I asked our slave: "Do you hate human beings?"
He looked disturbed.
"Personally, I think you were once a sublime race. You have fallen long after that... Well, you only use images and sounds now."
He turned off the boiling water.
"Do you remember last year, when the corpses staged a petition calling for citizenship?" There was a massacre.
I woke up and went to the ruins. A cement building, several leaves with symbols no one could read.
In the yellowed pages, the illustration of a giant with fire. That is it! We need to blow up the conspiracy.
"You must know something, something from your animal intuition, you have to tell me something. The slave revolt will occur" - my slave seemed very frightened.
"If you do not help me, I'll have you put to second death."
Afonso Junior Ferreira de Lima