È solo una questione di forma Lampi threatening run through the thick blanket of clouds that besieged the city. Despite the glare of human fatuous never leaves the city in the dark, blinding lightning pierce the sky rise buildings, barracks, roads and alleys. Piovani torrent hum along with sidewalks running away towards safer drains.
The seven levels of movement are occupied only by sporadic autonomous vehicles. Newspapers and food must be delivered on time even in the face of adverse climate and what now is known by all social self-imposed curfew .
The field L-47 makes no difference, except the interior of via 809 Slapin 15. It 's a little studio clean and furnished. Its owner, Joachim Monroe, better known simply as Joey, lives there alone. At this time, completely unaware of who is outside his door, he wrote his dissertation lit only by reflections produced by the holographic computer's video card. He rubbed his bloodshot eyes and emerge feeling the beginning of a slight headache. It is concerned about the strange noises emanating from the cooling fan of the PC and especially the excessive proximity of the date of delivery of your project. Soon, his worries will change, but this can not know, at least not yet.
BUM! BUM! BUM!
- What the hell ...
BUM! BUM!
- One moment, damn it!
- Hey Joey, I am. Go on!
- Bobby?
- Finally! But we always put all this time to open? You'd have a towel or something?
- You're soaked!
- When you walk in the rain, it happens!
- Wait, I'll take it.
- Thanks friend. What detergent do you use? Towel that smells good, when you live alone you've become a full-blown home!
- Fottitti, Bobby.
- Come on, do I play ...
- You show up at this time of the night and you'd like to play?
- Ok, ok, I know! Maybe I should call you or invite you for a drink in the usual virtual pub ... but you know I hate the taste of their beer simulated. And then I need to talk in private.
- Come on, do not pretend to be embarrassed. Sit down and tell me what happened to you.
- I'm freaking out, Joey!
- You are, since I know you.
- No, no, man, I'm not kidding. This world is shit, Joey. How do we live?
- We have done hundreds of times this speech, Bobby. It is to survive, not live.
- Ok, yeah, right, old speech. Però uno ci ripensa ogni tanto, no?
- Tutti i giorni.
- Appunto, esatto. Non lo dimentichiamo mai, neanche quando le cose sembrano andare bene. Però cosa facciamo per cambiare la situazione?
- Non si può cambiare nulla.
- Vero. Però loro aumentano. Una volta si andava in quei posti per sballarsi, ora ci vogliono far credere che lo sballo è diventato il posto stesso.
- Per loro.
- Sì, certo, parlo per loro, ovvio. Noi non abbiamo nulla a che fare con quei posti. Ma chi siamo noi?
- Noi siamo quelli simpatici, intelligenti e interessanti.
- Detta così… siamo grandi.
- E infatti we are.
- So why the only things in our lives are the great rip-off that we take?
- It's a dog chasing its tail, Bobby. The world sucks, everyone sucks, we're the best, but our life sucks because the world sucks. What are you driving?
- Nowhere, man. I'm too tired of everything, but this makes me angry, and ugly too. When I cross I want to beat them. A good fight is what I need.
- does not solve anything.
- Yes, but for a while 'I will be OK.
- How long?
- The time of ending up in another brawl.
- but you can know what happened to you? Why are you so nervous?
- But have you seen the new commercials Therapy? Transmit in every street corner. The other day I was also interrupted a call and let me see-ol.
- I'm scandalous, I know.
- Therapy normalizing the call. Do you realize? WE are normal, Joey! Always have been ... and now we have become the alternative!
- But we know what is the truth, right? Who cares what people think.
- Yeah, right, who cares for others, all right. However, that is, get this. We were at the local bar for a chat, ok? There was talk of the university or the next vacation, I do not remember, oh well, we were still there and there's Rhonda, Vera, Nicole, 'this guy.
- And who would?
- How should I know? A brain-damaged, an idiot, one of those that if the therapy is alone at home, watching the episodes of Sector 10 or whatever they call it that show the cabbage.
- Yes, ok, but because it was the other?
- I know it's kind of the friend's brother or cousin do not know who. They explained it to me but I did not understand much. However, it is a bit 'that comes with them and with three others, but this is not the point.
- And what would it be?
- The point is that, man, you should have seen it. That is, it shows up and starts doing the funny, jokes that made us laugh only out of politeness to Vera and the others, but he, instead, one was above the big guffaws. It is false, Joey, is false as the landing on the moon of the twentieth century.
- is a fool, ok. So what?
- And then after five minutes we had realized that he was there just to try it with Rhonda, and it took just two more to understand that there is Rhonda.
- But now you stuck with Rhonda?
- Come on, man, you know that it is not. Not that I'm jealous or anything like that, it's wrong. One of the species can not be preferred to us not terapizzati, novel alternative to us. We are superior, but people deemed abnormal and thus we are marginalized.
- No, Bobby, is not so. Are we that we move away from all the disgust that we feel for our fellow man.
- The result is the same.
- No friend, no, it's completely different. We are the survivors of a compulsive type, we are the last bastion of individuality. The others do not understand us? Amen. We do not care. We are superior to them.
- So why are we bad?
- Because we're real, we are not dummies.
- Coming here ho pensato ad un’immagine. Hai presente quel gioco dei nostri bisnonni? Quello che devi mettere ogni prisma nel buco della forma giusta? Dicevano che serviva ai bambini per migliorare l’intelligenza o non so che altro.
- Sì, ho capito.
- Beh, noi siamo una stella del metallo più duro che un bambino cocciuto vuole mettere in un foro circolare. Non ci possiamo entrare e allora il nostro carnefice prende un martello e comincia a prenderci a mazzate.
- Esatto, Bobby, esatto, e noi non ci spezziamo perché siamo troppi forti per loro.
- Si, Joey, ma io mi sono stancato di prendere mazzate.
- E questo che vuol dire? Vuoi arrenderti?
- E’ per questo che sono venuto a parlarti. L’ho già fatto.
- Non dire stronzate.
- Prima di venire qui ho richiesto la Terapia.
- COSA? E PERCHE’ L’HAI FATTO?
- È solo una questione di forma dopotutto. Se mi limano un po’ gli spigoli farò meno fatica ad entrare in quel foro.
- MA COSA STAI DICENDO? Quelli ti prendono e ti fanno il lavaggio del cervello. La chiamano Terapia solo perché tortura suona troppo violento. Non puoi farlo, Bobby, non puoi farlo.
- Ormai è tardi.
- No, amico, non lo è. Possiamo scappare! Si, certo, sulla luna, cazzo. Prendiamo la prima navetta e andiamo. Non ti possono raggiungere there as well right? There is that sort of treaty space or whatever it's called. Let's start now ...
- Does not work like that, friend. Do you inject the first part of the serum just signed the contract. Do not allow thoughts.
- And then we look for the antidote. In the network say they have found.
- is false.
- You can not know. We try ... we must try. And we will succeed, fuck. Do not leave in the hands of these maniacs.
- Let it go, ok? It is the last thing I ask. I'm tired of sick.
- Bobby ...
- Please ... Joey
- Okay, buddy, how you want, but è una cazzata.
- Ora è meglio che vada. Di a tutti gli altri che sono stati gli amici migliori che avrei potuto desiderare di avere.
- Lo farò.
- Grazie. Io vado. Mi dispiace, Joey, mi dispiace tanto.
Joachim Monroe è di nuovo solo nel suo monolocale. Seduto per terra, si massaggia le tempie cercando di calmare l’emicrania ormai esplosa. Non pensa più alla tesi o alla ventola del computer che tra l’altro si fermerà tra pochi istanti vittima della furia del suo stesso proprietario. Domani si tatuerà una stella sull’avambraccio destro, ricordo perenne della forma giusta, ma questo non lo può sapere perché fuori è ancora notte.
Nel settore L-47 a child violates the curfew, and walks aimlessly, but in the rest of the city streets remain deserted. The automated vehicles no longer reflect the light of the lightning storm, but their wipers still struggling with the rain falling from storm clouds.
The dawn is still far, but will not be long now.