Beautiful girls in underwear walk covered with billboards. On the pictures hung under their necks, the round faces of aspiring statesmen.
In the end
In fact, everything continues as always. The Independence day gives all the time the families need for chatting in front of their rectangles full of lights. These rectangles, knowing how important they are in forming a public opinion without any opinion, decide to send news like these:
The Alien Rain continues. The Government decided new special laws in order to prevent the situation to escalate.
Husband kills his wife in the suburbs, then cuts her in pieces and throws them around the city.”I thought she was an alien”, he stated.
The Member of the Parliament, Svanzoni, forced to resign after his minority motion has been rejected.
<<I just asked them to let this people fall down without dying. I thought it was right to give them one chance to save themselves.>>, these the first statement of the new enemy of the Nation.
The Champion of the People decided to answer back, immediately:
<<I can understand how frustrated the Member and ex Minister of Infrastructures and Quiet Living could feel right now. We have to remember that we had to take into account the fun aspect. The people of this Country is suffering enough for the curfew, it’s a right thing they can have some fun. Following the rules, as always. We’re always on the Law’s side. This is one of the reason why I asked the full power, because me and only me know what people really wants.>>
Starting from today, thanks to the new Babu’s law, it will be legal to kill aliens around the streets during holidays. For whom would kill out of the time and days recommended, it would be charged with fines, accordingly. Later, a short guide on how to recognise an alien.
Before having fun outside, shooting aliens, people are happy discussing the new laws in the pubs and at home. As in the old fashioned game of the telephone, the news bounce from one to the other, changing slightly.
The People’s Champ
The Champion of the People, sure about winning in the next elections, seats relaxed on his black armchair. In front of him, on top of his desk, the half length statue of a tyrant, died decades ago.
There’s a reason why he let his own cat take a decision about the aliens. Interestingly, it’s the same reason why he’s not outside having fun shooting aliens as all the others. On his lap lays everything he ever cared about, the meaning of his life. A small music note, the beginning of a life which is able only to scream, sleep and eat.
The small V
She’s the only creature he knows he can speak to, the only one able to truly understand who he really is. Mainly just making happy bubbles with her tiny mouth. Sometimes she snores, but in that funny cute way that only babies seem to have. And she smiles. A toothless smile, able to move smiles as it was a happy wind. For sure a positive, natural wind.
How could ever explain all this good feelings to the stupid voters and the Parliament members? If it was up to him, he would help elderly women crossing the street, this is the kind of person he is. An idiot, but deeply inside not an evil idiot. Simply, he has found in his hands too much power and too fast.
Obviously, when you have such a great power, you have to decide. You need to give answers and that answers have to be clear and certain. He doesn’t mind, he knows the rules and he plays well. Where are his friends, right now? They’re probably too busy laughing under few meters of soil and concrete, that’s what they’re doing!
Suddenly, the door calls for attention. Today is the Independence day, what they want? Anyways, he has servants for that, they will go and see who’s at the door.
This time the doorbell seems to be in a hurry, demanding to be answered. Oh, how silly! Today he conceded the servants three hours of free time, so they could celebrate with their families. On the streets there’s the aliens hunt.
He keeps forgetting how generous he is.
Plong?! Pling- Plong!?>>
The People’s Champion snaps. If they keep ring the bell like this they’ll wake up the small Victoria. How uncivilized! He stands up from the black armchair and lays the sleeping baby down in the cradle. The cradle, rose and white, start its swinging movement. The “V” drawn on top seems to be the legs of a broken watch.
All of a sudden the Champ forgets his
“My word, I will kill them!”
He thinks while descending the stairs.
I will dismember them!”
Think again, while finally reach with a
foaming mouth the door. Here, he turns the handle with fury.
<<For Adolf’s sake, who’s there?>>
And in fron of him:
<<Who… who are you?>>
The figure of an old woman, dirty and dressed in rags stays speechless in front of him. She seems to be a hundred years old, covered with dirt and clotted blood. She doesn’t seem to be hurt, not physically anyways. She’s got big eyes, which seem even bigger because of the skinny appearance. She’s looking at him as he was a vision, a dream.
<<You…You are an alien!>>
Such a big boy scared by this terrified human skeleton.
The old woman wants to speak, but all the
words she prepared before seem to be stuck, blocked as her breath due to a
broken rib. They’ve chosen her to be there in that moment, to be in front of
that man, the so- called People’s Champ. She passed any kind of pain to be
there, right in front of this man. To tell him that…
One shot and the Champ closes the eyes, the ears ringing. A single shot and the woman’s head has become a cloud of red corianders. The eyes full of fear disappear, along with the whole face covered in dirt. Abruptly, she’s transformed in a lifeless skeleton, with a spot of blood where before there was a head. A stain, a spot as any other, that the servants will clean in few hours.
<<Champ, are you all right?>>
A sixteen years old girl stands in front of him, her smoking gun still in her hands. She looks at him with a curious face.
<<Y-yes, thank you. I don’t know
what she wanted from me.>>
<<Can I have an autograph, please?>>
<<S-sure, young lady. How did you
recognise she was an alien?>>
<<I watched the program “how
recognise an alien” on You Tumble. I’m sort of an expert.>>
what an anusual name. You want an authograph?>>
Could I please have it on top of the corpse? I will
load it on my wheelbarrow, my friends will die of envy.>>
<<Sure, sure, here we are. You’ve earned it. Enjoy the Independence day!>>
Just a flabby man
The girl watches the Champ, it’s the first time she can stay so close to him. She watched at him only from distance, looking out some balconies or on the coloured rectangles. For the first time, too she realised how flabby and sweaty he is. He’s still trembling, while wiping the blood out of his face. She wouldn’t say it loud, but she feels pity for him. All that power and he’s afraid of a small old woman.
<<Wait a minute. She was trying to
take something from the pocket. What was it? A weapon?>>
The girl searches through the skeletal
corpse, with a disgusted face. The rectangles said aliens bring mortal
<<It’s a letter, Mr. Champ.>>
well. A letter. Hand it to me and go play with your
corpse. Again, have a good Independence day!>>
The door remains open on a grotesque scene: a tiny girl is trying to load an headless corpse on the wheelbarrow.
The Champ starts closing the door, his facial expression changing into horror as he keeps reading, the hands shaking. Which kind of joke is that?
Then, he realised something.
There’s nothing else but terror.
He leaves the door open and run.
He runs as he’ve never run before.
Run fast, with his belly up and down.
He bumps into the half length statue of the tyrant which crashes on the floor. In the room the window is open and there are few muddy footsteps on the white pavement.
In front of him stands the cradle. Empty.
And then the world is a nightmare.
And the world is distant.
And the world is the future.
And the world doesn’t smell good.
He thought he was master of time. But the
time makes whatever it pleases.
While he falls on his knee he starts shouting and crying. Despair, rage, confusion. As he was falling from the clouds. As he was one alien.
Falling over a mountain of pain and mud.
“Too late”, he thinks while his thoughts seem to dissolve.
avete rubato il futuro!>>
A voice, a shout behind him, full of rage.
He turns and sees an alien, a man covered in blood and mud. The Champ instinctively takes his favourite gun, Valkyrie, from the closet. He has never had a chance to use it before, he doesn’t even know how to shoot. Victoria is on the hands of that alien, mute.
Why she doesn’t cry?
The alien must die.
The alien must suffer.
The alien will be torn apart.
Instead, the alien speaks.
<<You stole our future, now I’m
The alien must die.
The alien must suffer.
<<Shoot me, shoot me as many times as you want, but you won’t change what happened. We gave you a chance, and you missed it.>>
The alien must die.
The alien must suffer.
And suddenly the Champ feels like he is the alien. Point the trembling gun to his head.
In a second and in a single bullet, a fountain of red paint. The room starts being brighter, with this spray gun effect. On the floor, the corpse of what remains of the People’s Champ, his brain and blood mixed with the pieces of the statue. The alien didn’t expect that.
Behind him the sound of a gun loaded.
He turns and sees a small twelve years old
girl, with a shotgun bigger than her.
<<Quella vecchia è sparita, nessuno mi crederà. Tu sei un alieno, vero?>>
She doesn’t have to wait for an answer, she knows how to recognise an alien.
On the floor now lay two corpses, while a small one lays inside the cradle. It’s impossible to recognise Victoria, her smile now is just a red spot. Future and past linked by the same destiny.
On the Champ’s left hand there’s a letter:
“Don’t kill me, please.
I’m your V.”
And the letter vanishes as the old woman did before. The twelve years old grabs her alien trophy and starts dragging him through the stairs.
<<Go back to the future.>>
She keeps mumbling to herself.
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