He felt exhausted, very fatigued and feeling on despair. No matter how much he had tried everything, he kept crashing into concrete walls that stood up to stop his progress. But despite this he continued to feel the firmest determination to achieve his goal. He was going to clean his name and get them to listen to him. The name of Jorgen Hågensen would stop being used as a joke in scientific circles and would become that of the person who shed light on the enigmas of what happened in Seville.

Leaving everything in Norway had turned out to be relatively easy. After flying to Oslo, he took another plane to Paris. His initial idea was to go by fast train directly to Barcelona, but he could only get to Perpignan. There he had to make a living to get on a bus to Barcelona, where he transferred to another one to Madrid. When his still wife, María Ruiz, saw him enter the apartment they had in the Fuencarral area, he looked pitiful. Possibly not the best way to meet again after their “temporary” separation. He couldn’t blame her for anything, after his fiasco, Maria had moved to Norway with him to support him. But he had not been able to measure up, his obsession with Hyperborea had consumed him and in the end she had decided to return to Spain, leaving him alone. Jorgen hoped that now, with this new revelation he could win her back again.

Unfortunately, Maria had had enough after so many years chasing chimeras. She agreed to host him at home for a few days while he organized to get to Seville, but that’s it. She did not jump for joy and received with great indifference his eloquent speech about how the symbol of what they had called ‘Armor’ was the Gar rune present in their great discovery, which based his entire thesis on the real existence of the Hyperborean civilization.

But if he believed that convincing María would be difficult, getting someone from the Spanish government or army to receive him proved even more torturous. For two days he was on a pilgrimage from ministry to ministry, government offices, to the presidency of the government. Nobody wanted to receive him. Okay, they were all under a lot of frenetic activity and under a lot of pressure in those first days after the disaster. Even so, nothing justified for him that they were ignoring the person who was trying to tell them that he held the key to understanding what had really happened.

The truth was that even he wasn’t sure of anything yet. He knew that this event had to be directly related to the event that wiped out from the face of the Earth an entire civilization that he was convinced had been very advanced. Could it be that the aliens had already been on Earth by then? If so, what exactly could have happened. Were there survivors? If not, how could stories about its existence be transmitted tens of thousands of years later? There were more questions he had than the answers he could provide. But he was firmly sure that with the necessary means and resources he could answer everything and prove that the remains of Hyperborea existed there, somewhere under the waters near the island of Jan Mayen.

He sat exhausted on the sofa in the living room of the apartment and decided to watch television for a while. He began to change from one channel to another until he ended up watching ‘La tertulia’ on Noticias Directo TV. They were talking about the #SevilleDisaster and had invited several politicians, a sociologist and a military man who played a prominent role during the battle. At the bottom of the screen he could see a phone number and the claim that they were looking for witnesses to participate as well. An idea sparked in his mind and he grabbed the phone in a hurry. After talking to a girl and telling her that he was an expert archaeologist with key data on the origin of the aliens, she told him to wait. After ten minutes they told him that they would introduce him live. (See the extended content ‘The #DesastreSevilla Gathering‘).

He couldn’t believe that they had hanged him and that they were making fun of him at that moment. He clenched his fist in anger at such stupidity. Maria had been watching the scene in silence. She came over and offered him a bowl of hot broth for him to have some dinner. He thanked her and after eating it he fell asleep on the couch out of pure exhaustion.

The next day he woke up even more determined if possible. In Madrid he was not going to achieve anything. It was obvious. He had to get to the source of everything, just as he had initially planned. The problem was that public transportation to Seville was limited to authorized personnel only. The city was in a kind of quarantine and only military personnel, emergency services and approved volunteers could travel by plane, train or bus. He was going to have to try to come up with something. He said goodbye to María and left the apartment with his few belongings ready to make another uncertain trip.

He arrived at the Atocha train station. He first tried to see if he could acquire a ticket. As expected, they told him that it was not possible. After several hours he sat on a bench next to the table of an NGO that was recruiting volunteers. There he struck up a conversation with the manager. It was clear that he was a former student of ancient history and was passionate about knowing the reason why he was there. After eating a sandwich he went to the bus station with the same result. He returned to Atocha again and began approaching taxi drivers and people asking if someone could bring him a car, willing to pay a good sum.

The person in charge of the NGO saw him again and heard how he was still desperately looking for a way to get to Seville. And so it was, he no longer knew what to do. Nobody paid attention to him nor was he willing to travel the distance between Seville and Madrid with a crazy Norwegian. In the end he decided to offer him a risky solution that could put them both in trouble, but it was the only thing he had. Jorgen’s story had managed to touch the manager’s heart, so he offered to replace one of the volunteers who were traveling to Seville that same night. He had suffered a fall that same afternoon and had to be replaced. The problem was that if upon arrival they reviewed the list of volunteers in detail, they would surely realize that Jorgen was not Juan García, twenty-three years old.

Jorgen didn’t care, he gave the man a big hug and quickly got into the NGO van when it came to pick up the group. About six hours of travel awaited him. He didn’t know how he would do it when he arrived in Seville. He had some acquaintances but had no way of contacting them. He would have to improvise.

He fell asleep with a light smile that alleviated his exhausting fatigue. In the heaviness of his sleep he could see the submerged ruins of Hyperborea waiting for him. Soon, very soon, he would finally be there, showing humankind that what had happened in Seville had much deeper ramifications than anyone could have ever imagined…