The rest is pure delusion.
I find myself at home, without the slightest idea of \u200b\u200bhow be reached. One moment, they are there ready to collapse. A moment later, and I'm in my bed. All well, seamlessly from one scene to another, just as if some invisible Mr. Director had decided, at some point, removing the parts produced in a very interesting and beautiful cut.
look for the morning, then called Eco. I tell him that something happened to me while I was away. I'm not sure that even I do not remember it.
He tells me to wait a couple of days. A couple of days and we are.
"Eco, I need to figure it out NOW"
"A couple of days, Hanuman.'ll See the fast-flowing"
And how, if you run fast.
The two days of fall to the lead in a tournament of small formalities that do not have time to attend to, friends who do not have time to hear, even a few episodes of Torchwood who do not live to see.
Again, the Director invisible work of the cuts required to keep alive the attention. So, I find myself, as if they were not even been ten or fifteen minutes. A lot of history behind it, a present and a future that shocked not doing too well.
Eco and I are talking in the usual bar. The feeling to look out the window, the usual. A fish bowl, where hundreds of faces are off on one another, running, waving, repeated and repeating the same words.
Eco has an extraordinary sense of timing, in choosing to always give us an appointment at an hour when there's hardly anyone here. Fortuna by conspiratorial , calls it. I really like, as a term. Fortuna by conspiratorial.
"So you know them?"
"Something," he says Eco, in a tone that seems all would imply. Downed a shot of some weird flavored tea in a cup brown a bit 'chipped incompatible sophisticated air that he likes to take forever.
"I knew Phoenix, when she joined the Dead Poets. There must have been a bit 'of years ago, and I was still confused," he continues. Then
remains silence, giving me the strange sensation of wanting to add something else, without being able to do.
We remain a bit 'in silence. "What do you think is happening to me?"
He shrugs, looking at the bottom of the cup a few oracle that suggests how to attack the speech. A blue cloth waving from a stall on the road in front of us. Viewed from here, looks like a kind of sailing and I do not know why, I will cause a strange cross between envy and nostalgia.
"This is an answer that I can not give. You yourself have you prevented from doing so "
remain to look like a fool, a condition in which I am surely getting used to.
"Eco Sorry, but what the hell are you saying? If I called you two days ago, was just to let me explain to you what is happening "
" Listen to me. Maybe you're not feeling right now, but you broke all the rules of the game. One by one "
Rest in silence for a while '. I am reminded of a few things to say to him, but closes the mouth in time.
"What do you mean, for rules of the game?"
Eco leans across the table. For the first time I see him alert to the possibility that someone is listening ... and even a wrinkle of concern, which I'm not bode well.
"I mean that what you're doing is very dangerous. And you do it lightly, without even realizing it. The only thing I can do is tell a story. Then, draw your own conclusions you "
" All right - I say at the end - OK, tell the story "Eco
remains to tinker with his chipped mug. It caresses the rim and shaking what is left inside. For once, the more he seems sincere drama embarrassment, difficulty finding the right words. Not exactly the norm for him.
"Once they made a strange experiment with Kafka. Criminals First Storytellers"
"With ... Kafka?"
"Al Franz was well informed about him hung a process, without specifying the charges or anything. The tormented for months. The Process ... did you read it? not really a novel. It 's more a diary
"But why such a thing?"
"As I said, it was an experiment. They wanted to see what happens, when someone dive into a novel situation. What makes you human, Hanuman? The perception of reality around and within you, makes you human. Nothing more. When the reality around you is pure fiction ... then you too will become a character in a story "
" Wait, "I say after a few minutes" You tell me that wanted to turn a literary character in Kafka? "
Eco does not respond immediately. The blue sails continue to beat stand on the street in front, and his voice does not come.
I feel after a pause that seems to have lasted hours, just when I turn to break the silence.
"What the Storytellers Criminals have always wanted to do was this, if you think about it. Take control of your plot"
"And what does this have to do with me?"
"You'll see - Eco says with a smile - you're a fool, Hanuman. A dangerous madman. I can only tell you now that we are in a strange neutral space in the story"
"Eco ... please, stop a moment to the mystery man and explained better
"I really want? Well, I'll do. "
When he lifts eyebrow and mouth bend into a smile so dry it looked like a wrinkle, I feel to be totally idiot who rightly are.
"Soon, you will write about our conversation on your blog. Someone in a commentary, he tells you to look a certain Von Beck. Eggregori the One who understands and can help you out in your plan absurd to kill Michael Jackson with a macumba literary. " He pauses only a moment to check my reactions. No, I'm listening to him and I'm afraid, yes. Very afraid.
"So - he continues - you set out looking for Von Beck. Follow a path. This path will take you to experiment. Weird experiments like the one on Kafka. And you'll realize As can be frightening "
" Or - comment with a smile that would not be so shaky - if someone nominate this Von Beck, I can give him a good laugh in the face and continue on my way "
" No, Hanuman. In a story, free will does not exist. In reality you're just looking for Von Beck. And in a few days, you turn to me as if this conversation had never taken place "
Take a deep breath, letting the moment when the waiter comes to take the cup of Eco. I have not taken anything and I regret it: I eat like a pig, just to feel the taste of food when you bite, chew, crisp feel and physical, as I descend into the stomach.
But not ordered anything.
"Kafka And what happened? E 'dead and gone, and I do not think it has become the god of Employees anguished"
"His metamorphosis lasted many years and was nearly invisible to most people. I assure you that we are few know that it was tuberculosis, which is why he could not say a word before he died ... "
He gets up and takes his jacket. The same signal to tell me that the conversation is ending.
"... simply the voice had become the buzz of a cockroach"
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