We eventually reached a large, official-looking stone building. Affixed to a pillar at the bottom of a wide flight of steps that led up to the entrance doors was a brass plate that read 'Cuartel General', the same as in the other world.
A man dressed in a military uniform came down the steps to meet us. He looked questioningly at the four men who were still with us, and the doctor immediately dismissed them. The men had seemed nervous at the sight of the uniform and left willingly, pulling the cart of scrap metal behind them.
The officer introduced himself as Lieutenant Herrera, Ayudo de Campo, ADC to the Commandant. This seemed to be a more militarised government, more formal in nature than the more relaxed basis of the one from the past. Before, there were no social connotations attached to rank, and a general policy of equality, except for the Lingzhe, who were revered as a higher species.
A delegation of four officials greeted us, looking at me with undisguised curiosity, and guided us into a side room. We sat opposite them at a long, highly polished table. They spoke to us in English, and the doctor replied fluently in the same language. I looked at him quizzically, and he whispered,
"Sorry about before. We needed to speak as little as possible in front of the hired men, and the best way to limit our conversation was by my pretending not to understand English. I have to say it was a surprise to hear you not only speak in Spanish, but also with bits of Andean dialect thrown in. Where did you learn it?"
"I have visited this area before," I said," a very long time ago."
I was aware the officials were looking puzzled at our whispered conversation, and I apologised, saying that they now had our complete attention.
What followed was a formal welcome to the base and domestic details about my accommodation, the layout of the base, weather conditions, eating arrangements, and the like. All very similar to the original.
A bell rang, and they all stood up.
"The commandant will receive you now," he said. "Doctor Mateo will accompany you."
Doctor Mateo! That had been the name of the original doctor in charge of the hospital, but this was a different man. These coincidences were extremely odd.
The doctor knew where he was going, and we walked about twenty yards down the corridor, stopping before an ornately decorated double door. He knocked once, and we were called in.
The commandant rose from behind his desk. He had an impressive athletic physique and long blond hair to his shoulders, a white man with very attractive features, someone who would cause heads to turn, a quite astonishingly handsome man.
He held out his hand, and I walked rapidly towards him, too rapidly for his bodyguard, who blocked my way and expertly frisked me for any hidden weapons.
The commandant laughed.
"You must forgive Carlos; he takes his duties seriously. We live in troubled times.
He nodded to Carlos, who moved to one side, and the commandant came round to the front of his desk and shook me firmly by the hand.
"Welcome, my friend. I will do all in my power to make your stay on the base as pleasant as possible.
He turned and shook hands with the doctor.
"Congratulations, my dear Mateo. You did well."
"Now, gentleman. If you would care to sit at the table to the left. I will join you in taking some refreshment."
On cue, two women in traditional costume emerged from a side room with trays of local food and fruit, followed by a waiter who offered us wine, fruit juice or water. I chose water, but the commandant insisted that I try the local red wine, and the waiter poured me a large glass. We spent a pleasant half an hour or so eating and drinking, and when the waiter approached a third time to top up my glass. I placed my hand over the top to signify that I had drunk enough.
I was unused to alcohol, and the drink was going to my head. My face was flushed, and I saw that the commandant was smiling.
! said, "The wine is delicious, sir, but also strong. I apologise for my rather undignified reaction."
"Not at all, David. I am glad you enjoyed it, and I admit a sense of relief at seeing the blood rise to your face. One cannot be too careful; the machines are expert at deception."
I realised that he had wanted further confirmation that I was human, and his insistence on my taking wine was for that reason. The base seemed to be on a war footing. I wanted to know more, but he spoke before I could phrase my question.
"You told Matteo that you had been here before, David. When exactly was that?"
How did he know what I had said?
His tone was friendly, but I could see that he had not yet fully accepted me.
"It is rather difficult to explain, sir, and I can see that my answer to Doctor Matteo has been misinterpreted. I have visited an area, very similar, almost identical to this region, but it was somewhere else."
"Somewhere else, "he repeated, where?"
I had hoped to avoid this question, but thought it best that I tell the truth.
"On another world," I said. "At least I think so. The truth is that I don't know. It may have been an alternative world to this one, which was later destroyed."
"Were there any survivors?" asked the commandant.
"No, "I replied.
The Commandant leaned forward, looking intently in my face.
"Yet, you are here, seated in front of me."
I narrowed my eyes. The commandant was not being entirely open with me about what he knew. I was glad not to have lied.
"I was not in the world when it exploded. Why do you ask such a question?"
"Did the machines rescue you?" He said.
"Of course not, I said angrily, "the machines are our enemy, and I hate them. They murdered my parents."
"I apologise," he said, "but it was a question that had to be asked, and it leads to another query. If that is the case, why did you have such a close relationship with the robot, Sol?"
I jerked my head back in surprise.
"Sol was a general issue robot with only a basic programme, and he was controlled by the mind of my uncle, Steven Mandell. What do you know about Sol? Is he here?"
The commandant was silent, deep in thought.
"You may leave, now", he said abruptly. "Lieutenant Herrara will guide you to your quarters. Please remain there until I contact you again. Your meals will be brought to you."
He stood up. I attempted to speak, but he raised a hand to stop me.
"We will meet again, but for now, you must leave immediately. Matteo, you stay."
Lieutenant Herrera took me lightly by the arm and marched me out of the room.
Herrera snapped his fingers, and two soldiers armed with rifles fell in behind us.
Was I a prisoner?