The two men had been riding since morning. It had snowed the night before. They were no longer riding over dirt roads, but over a brilliant white cover that violently reflected the sun. The tire tracks that vans and trucks had left behind had changed into a muddy quagmire.

Yuri put on his sunglasses as the road turned to one side. He touched the saddlebags that rested over the mule's hind quarters and assured himself that everything was still in order. He touched his knapsack and could feel his briefcase. Clothing, travel gear, books, notebooks, everything was still there.

The old man rode ahead of Yuri. His black poncho stood out against the snow. He also carried two saddlebags. It was four p.m., but the sun was still high. Once they had left the hollow of Punta de Vacas, the mountains appeared to move away, and the landscape changed dramatically.

They left the road and began to climb up the side of the mountain, riding alongside a dry river bed that was covered with snow and boulders. The old man reached the crest of the hill and disappeared down the other side. Yuri hurried his mule along. When he reached the crest of the hill a strong gust of freezing air suddenly slapped his face. The wind was whistling against the sides of the mountains. A brilliant blue carpet appeared now before Yuri's eyes. This was Lake Horcones. On the opposite side of the lake a curtain of snow rose majestically, higher, higher still, until it turned into gigantic walls of ice and sparkling outcroppings of black rock. A monster thousands of feet high, and several miles wide was standing, invincible. It appeared as if the surrounding mountains were silently accepting their faith, quietly recognizing that this huge mass had been carved out on a different scale altogether.

"The rooftop of the Occident!" Yuri whispered as he faced the Aconcagua.

The old man was riding on the edge of a dangerous ravine. His mule stepped on the rock with great caution. Then the mule would go no further. The old man removed his scarf, and while still mounting his mule, wrapped it around its head, covering the eyes. Then he turned around in his saddle and looked at Yuri.

"Gringo, hurry up! Your mule's head must touch against my mule's tail."

Yuri did not wish to hurry, but he finally placed his mule as Don Vergara had requested.

"Why did you cover the eyes?" he asked.

"So that she doesn't get scared. She knows how to walk with a blindfold."

He loosened the reins and crossed his arms, urging the mule to go on. The mule began to advance slowly. Yuri also loosened his reins and his animal followed Don Vergara's.

The saddle bags on the left rubbed against the rock wall. On the right, the abyss descended into the lake. The wind had died down. Every so often, pieces of rock would begin to roll down the ravine and be pulverized against the sides of the ravine.

The trail became wider. The old man recovered his scarf and took the reins again. Yuri did the same. The ravine now appeared less threatening. like the slopes of a hill covered with alluvial stones. Further ahead, there were some larger rocks and flag stones. They reached a spot on the trail where Don Vergara and his mule suddenly disappeared from sight.

When he arrived at the same spot, the professor discovered a huge opening in the rock. His mule entered without difficulty. It was a large cave, slightly illuminated by the afternoon sun.

The old man had dismounted. He removed the saddle bags, loosened the belt, and finally removed the saddle. He removed the reins and the mouth piece. Yuri imitated his example. Then Yuri went outside the cave and could still see the narrow trail bordering the precipice.

It was very late at night when they sipped the last mate. They had also exchanged some food. The guanaco jerky was dry and salty, but was still edible. A small fire was still burning around a circle of stones stained by the smoke. Don Vergara had started it earlier, using small sticks that he had picked up on the road. A kerosene lamp was burning, illuminating the cave with a yellow flame. Shadows would move against the walls, following the movement of the flame that flickered as the wind entered through the lantern's broken glass.

"Is it possible to go inside the mountain?" Yuri asked the old man.

"Well, here we are inside."

"No, I mean the Aconcagua."

"That depends on what you are looking for," replied the old man, as he cleaned his teeth with a small piece of brush. "The Indians called it Aconcagua, which means the sentinel of stone. They believed that there was a giant inside that watched over the world, but he fell asleep because the cold turned him into ice. Stupid Indians!" he exclaimed as he brought out a tobacco pouch and some cigarette papers. He spread some tobacco over one of the papers, rolled it, and then licked the cigarette along the side. He lit the cigarette with a small branch burning on one end. He puffed and then released a cloud of smoke with a look of satisfaction.

"Can you imagine?" he continued. "Whenever there is an earthquake, or a tremor, they say that the guardian is trying to wake up. But that will not be possible until the love of an Indian maiden can warm his enormous, frozen heart. He will then stand up to face the sky, and with a bow that is made of stars, he will launch his arrows of light throughout the whole world, against the night. Stupid people!" Don Vergara exclaimed, slapping his knee. "The lake is supposed to be a tear that the Indian maiden left behind when she found out that the guardian had turned to ice. She went to look for help, and some day she will return in a chariot of fire. She will tell him a poem that will be transformed into a puff of wind. A poem that she must learn for some small man, like you or I... Until that happens, nobody may enter into the Aconcagua, because a guardian is defending his enormous heart of ice."

Yuri was moved. He knew that the old man was explaining the core of the problem, but he was still having difficulty with the words that were being chosen. Something similar had happened with Tensing.

Then Don Vergara was on his feet. His shadow was enormous and moved over the far walls of the cave. A voice that sounded as if it were a thousand years old came out of the old man:

"You have to die, you have to live. You have to teach this to others, because they are ill. That is the way to cure people. You must reach everyone, because their illness forces them to kill each other. It is necessary for all to listen... We will see each other once again, but you will never die again."

Don Vergara bent over and extended his blankets on the floor. He lay down and was soon asleep.

Yuri came out of the cave. When he looked at the sky he saw the constellation of Sagittarius. Further on he could see the Southern Cross, which appeared to bless him. Underneath this sky with its enormous stars he felt that his heart was beginning to thaw again, he felt humble inside. A thought sparkled across his mind like lightning: "latitude 33 degrees south, longitude 70 degrees west." He thought he could hear Grigori speaking: "They will do their share. Two lines must intersect in order to define a point. We will depict the x-axis, they will depict the y-axis, or vice-versa. We'll soon see if different methodologies can accommodate each other, as has already been the case with rocket science. Let them be, they are not that stupid!" Yuri felt that he had lived this moment before.

He darted back inside the cave. He took his notebook and began to write by the yellow light of the lantern. He had understood now. This had to do with the launching of a mental missile, shortly before the collective madness took over. A missile that would deviate History just a few degrees, barely enough to prevent a global catastrophe. Surely there would be crisis in all fields, but the human being would escape madness, and would be able once again to take charge of his ascending destiny. They had been able to see the future beforehand, but this was not enough to provoke the change in direction. It was obvious that they needed to modify the point of view of the great powers, and to have the necessary equipment so that they could proceed with the launching on a massive scale. How they would do this exactly still remained a mystery. Maybe they would be able to influence the minds of those who had the power to make decisions.

Yuri drew a line and closed his notebook. He then searched his knapsack until he found a pad of empty pages. He methodically wrote down all of his experiences, and at the end explained the Doctrine's real intentions.

He was finished by dawn. He wrote the title on the first page: "Tokarev Report. Aconcagua, June 10, 1979."

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