Mostrando las entradas con la etiqueta control. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando las entradas con la etiqueta control. Mostrar todas las entradas

viernes, 31 de marzo de 2017


   As far as she was concerned, her boss could just go and die t any moment. That mean fat bastard had always been a bother, making her work more hours just because he wanted it or because he had “special” clients. Those were always his buddies or some rich guys he wanted to be friends with in order to get money from them. It was really pathetic to see how he behaved in front of them, almost like a dog that only wants to please his master. It was pretty sad and disgusting.

 Of course, the currency he had was none other than what he called “his girls”. The fact that they were practically his slaves was obvious because of that awful pet name. He argued that they had all the freedoms just because they could come and go after twelve or more hours of work, but they all knew that he controlled almost every aspect of their life and if they misbehaved in some way, he was prepared to use a secret weapon he had just in case: their secrets and, most importantly, their families.

 All of the girls were from pretty modest families who had no idea they were taking their clothes off for money and sometimes, even more. That last part almost depended on the fat guy, who was the one who decided which one of the clients was worth his while, his “special” attention. However, that didn’t make the girls prostitutes, as they perceived no money from that activity, only for their dancing. And even in that case, the salary was miserable, not being good enough to live with.

 More than once, the girls planned their revenge and escape but it rarely went beyond words. The few times a woman did something to actually free herself from the tyranny of the job, she was them met with the fact that all of her family and friends, and their boyfriends if they had one, were told the truth via anonymous messages. It got even worse sometimes, when actual pictures and even videos were attached to those messages, to further humiliate the girl and make her be ashamed.

 Barbie, however, was not ashamed anymore. She had been there for a long time and, after so long, she had lost all contact with her family and friends. She had another name before entering the night world, she even had a career and the possibility of another life. But when everything went bad on her life, she was desperate and decided to exploit the fact that she had a nice body and attractive looks. The fat guy hired her instantly and now one could say that she was his top prize, always putting her on display like a piece of meat when his big clients came.

 Barbie did dream about another life, going back to her family’s house and hugging her mother. She also had a brother, way younger that her. He wouldn’t recognize him, even if he stared at her for a long time. She felt that life had happened so many years ago and now she was another person. Freedom was nothing that she craved. She knew that what the fat guy did to them was not right but she felt that place was a safe haven for all the girls, from even worse things that happened outside.

 Candy, her best friend in the business, had been raped days after she had decided to leave everything. She was alone, with no money and nothing going on for her, so a disgusting man just took advantage of that. The fat guy himself saved her from further harm and brought her back to the club, where she could be safe. They were rooms there for most of the girls; Barbie was one of the few who were able to leave any time she wanted. That was a special privilege because of her relevance.

 She knew very well how important she was there, in that dark world behind the velvet curtain, so she always tried to push her hand a little bit when the fat guy announced he had “special” clients coming over. Basically, she asked for more money and privileges for doing everything he wanted to be done. If the men wanted sex, she did it but it had to come for a price. That’s how she was able to improve all the girls lives in the club by buying them several things to make it all better like a coffee machine and a dog.

 She refused to live with them all in the club, as she know that been in another place made their realized who was boss there, after the fat guy at least. And none of the girls had problems with that or, at least, they didn’t say much about it. For them, it was much better if one of them had any kind of power. Thanks to that, some of them were able to write their families every so often and even, once every few months, visit them at home. That was a huge improvement from the past.

 But even like that, the girls still had to take their clothes off every day, for more hours than they were getting paid for. Sometimes it was full and some other times the only audience members were a couple of drunks and the waiter. They did more than dancing, making all of them loose all sense of romance, although some of them still thought about a prince charming that would one day come and rescue them from their lives. But Barbie was one that didn’t thought of that anymore. She just lived one day, and then the next, and then the next. It was easier that way.

miércoles, 25 de enero de 2017

Afraid of them

   Each one of them had to be eliminated. There was no point in trying to argue this logic. The fact remained that all of them had been witnessed of something they shouldn’t have and they needed to be killed before they could say a word to anyone. Lucas did a very thorough list where he wrote the name of each person that had seen him move that object with his mind. Every single one of them had to be destroyed unless he considered them to be harmless with that knowledge.

 Actually, he did consider that for a while. After all, it wasn’t like he knew them all personally. All of the opposite, he couldn’t care less about who they were and he did try to convince himself that none of them had seen absolutely anything on that night. But then, someone was stupid enough to tell someone else, maybe as a funny story, and Lucas had to take care of it before it couldn’t expand beyond those two people. His watchful eye had been right then and he concluded it should be a definite answer.

 But, as he planned everything, he thought that probably every single one of those people didn’t really know what they had seen. Maybe they were confused and had decided to deny it or even rejected what their eyes had brought to them because their beliefs did not match any of what was happening with that unique moment in time. It was possible that people weren’t as bad and terrible as he thought they were. But then someone spoke about it and then someone else did and he realized what he had to do.

 A total of one hundred and fifty three people would have to be killed. That was the amount of people that had seen the large explosion he had caused very high in the atmosphere. He had caused that by pushing a bomb that was going to detonate, destroying a whole town. His reaction was to use his mind to push the object as high as he could. That way, the bomb would go off but harming no one. His effort almost caused him to faint but he bomb successfully detonated away from town.

 The problem was that, during that night, the monthly fair of the small town was taking place and, at least, a thousand people were there, eating and enjoying many rides and games. So was he and it was just after winning a plushy on a booth that he discovered the plans of a mad man and had only second to propel the bomb up into the night sky and hope his plan worked. That was why so people had seen his feat and that’s why know he needed to eliminate them all, as they couldn’t be allowed to know what he did, least of all tell anyone else about it.

 For many weeks, he decided to listen to every single person he remembered in the fair. The good thing was that he had a photographic memory and he was able to a complete list of people that had seen the explosion high up in the sky. After that, he followed every single one of them and checked on their lives to see if they had spoken about him at all. This they didn’t know, but he had very good hearing, able to hear a person speaking from many kilometers away, which he used to his advantage.

 He would spend hours hearing what a family talked about during and after dinner. Lucas did that in order to convince himself that maybe some of the people would be able to keep their mouths shut, for the good of the future and because they were afraid to say something out loud that seemed a little bit too crazy. However, that first family finally talked about it almost a week after it had happened. There was no choice in Lucas’s mind. So he entered the house at night and killed them with care.

 The idea was that he didn’t want the police or anyone else to think that someone had silenced those people. Instead, he wanted them to believe that all of these people had died of natural causes. Of course, after the first few, imagination would begin to be much more difficult to harness. But, thankfully, not much of it was needed because no one questioned the first deaths. It was all seen as a coincidence or as tragic ending stories for very happy and, sometimes, very sad stories.

 When he wasn’t doing what he was doing, he punished himself physically for what he did. He did so because it was obvious that he wasn’t killing criminals but all of the other people instead, the good ones, the ones that had families, and something they loved doing and lives that shouldn’t be disruptive of someone who wasn’t able to find another solution for an immediate answer. Lucas blamed himself for not having been able to handle things in a different way, for having to kill.

 Yet, he couldn’t change his plans now that he has started to execute. It wouldn’t make any sense to ignore them and let oust him as what he was. They couldn’t understand what was happening and what had been happening to him since when he was a teenager. Although he had received training, Lucas had never been able to master the complete arts of mind control and everything that had any connection to it. People wouldn’t understand that having those abilities was more of a curse than a blessing. And he couldn’t explain carefully to anyone, it would take much too long.

 Two weeks after his initial decision, only forty-two of the former group was still live. He had killed most of them during their sleep so they could be able to avoid pain and everything related to it. Lucas hated himself every single time he had to do it and would have loved to have a second opinion but there was no one there except him and his plan. He couldn’t be stopped and he honestly regretted that because a good person always wants to be stopped when they do something for the greater good.

 More often than not, the greater good is a way to shield oneself from criticism and understanding. He would have loved all those little children and the adults to understand that he didn’t want to hurt them but that he knew very well, after hearing all of them, that most would like to have his abilities or at least be able to see them in action once more. Once they had seen something so strange, they really wanted to see it again and again, until time came that it made no sense or they decided to be afraid.

 And fear was his number one enemy. Many of them had already planned to speak loud and clear about what they had seen and whom they had seen doing it. Although they felt a little bit of envy, fear was the key in making them move against what had fascinated them at the start. All of those he killed first were that kind of people, thinking they were doing this country a great service by pushing a fellow human into the pool of hungry sharks that was the military or even worse.

No, his powers had to die with him and that was it. He completed his mission almost a year after he had decided that was the only solution. There was no one to recognize that but at least he was in peace, or something close to that, at last. He also decided to never use his powers again, even at home where no one could actually see him. His short run as a powerful man was over. Lucas had so many other things to be worried about and he was glad everything now was on the past.

 But that never actually happened because the death of all those people was on his hands. It doesn’t matter what this intentions were back then, he had killed all of those people in order to protect himself. Every single day, he had to be convinced that what he did was the only choice. But then, months after finishing, a voice appeared in the back of his head and it told him something that he wasn’t expecting: an alternative. His own brain wanted to explain to Lucas how things could have been so different. But at the end of the day, he had to live with what he had learned.

miércoles, 9 de noviembre de 2016

Soñar despierto

   Aunque había parecido un sueño, la verdad es que lo que había hecho era solo recordar todo lo que había ocurrido con anterioridad, todo lo que recordaba haber visto con sus propios ojos y todo lo que sabía que había ocurrido pero no tenía idea de cómo probar. Ya no era como antes, tiempos en los que todo quedaba registrado de manera pública. No, ahora eran los ojos de las personas los que registraban todo lo que ocurría y toda esa información era almacenada pero jamás hecha pública a menos que fuese muy necesario.

 Apenas abrió los ojos, se dio cuenta que el tren entraba lentamente a la estación. Apenas se detuvo, las puertas se abrieron y todas las personas que debían bajarse, lo hicieron. Fidel, que había quedado algo turbado por lo que había visto mientras “dormía”, se demoró un poco más en bajar y recibió la mirada poco aprobadora de los trabajadores del tren que esperaban afuera a que todo el mundo saliera. Eso sí, era su cara de siempre, pues su deber era revisar que nadie se quedara atrás, tratando de hacer algo no permitido, fuese lo que fuese.

 Fidel caminó por unos cinco minutos, por entre edificios viejos y abandonados, negocios de dudosa reputación y personas que parecían haber acabado de salir de la cárcel. El de la estación central del tren era un barrio bastante difícil: la presencia de la policía era constante así como de los cuerpos élite del ejército. Muchas veces se veían unos u otros entrando a hacer redadas a los enormes edificios que aglomeraban a miles de personas cerca de la estación. Eran edificios bastante oscuros y que daban miedo de solo oírlos nombrar.

 Fidel trotó un poco cuando sintió que ya casi llegaba a su hogar. También vivía en uno de los grandes conjuntos de torres pero era en uno de aquellos en los que la policía entraba menos. Sin embargo, el día anterior, la policía había descubierto dos laboratorios de droga en uno de los edificios. Fidel pudo ver, cuando salía para ir a trabajar, como subían todas las bolsitas a un camión blindado. Algo curioso es que nadie nunca había sabido que hacían con la droga decomisada. Se supone que la destruían pero en ese mundo a nadie le constaba.

 Fidel subió al destartalado ascensor, que solo funcionaba por temporadas, y apretó el botón cincuenta y tres, el cual era su número de piso. Pero antes de que cerrara la puerta, unas sombras entraron y resultaron ser algunos de los extranjeros que vivían en la torre. Era raro verlos fuera de la casa pues ellos no tenían implantes oculares y tenían prohibido salir a menos que fuese una emergencia y parecía que nada de lo que pudiese pasar pudiese ser considerado emergencia. En todo caso, no era normal verlos por ahí caminado como cualquier persona. ¡Eran extranjeros!

 Se bajaron en el piso veintidós, demasiado bajo para que vivieran en el sector más sano del edificio. Normalmente las viviendas con problemas siempre estaban debajo del piso cincuenta y en los que hubiese encima de ese número, solían haber poblaciones más tranquilas y no tan aterrorizadas como las de más abajo. Cuando el ascensor se abrió en el piso de Fidel, se acercó a su puerta y solo tuvo que pasar la palma de la mano encima del pomo para que sonara un “clic” y así se abriera la puerta. Era una ventaja de los implantes.

 Cansado, Fidel lanzó su chaqueta en el sofá que había contra la pared y se dirigió directo a la ducha, que estaba a pocos metros del sofá. En el lugar no había muchos muros y cuando los habían eran de vidrio o de materiales que harían fácil la interacción. Por eso, mientras se duchaba, Fidel hubiese podido ser visto por alguien desde su cocina o su sala o su habitación. A pesar de esa manera de vivir, la verdad era que le tenía cariño a su apartamento e incluso a la enorme torre de edificios donde vivía. Ya era algo a lo que había que acostumbrarse.

 Apenas salió de la ducha, se secó un poco pero se miró en el espejo y después comenzó, de nuevo, a “soñar”. No era lo normal que la gente pudiese acceder así a sus recuerdos pasados pero él, por alguna razón, sí podía hacerlo. Había pasado después de un accidente que había tenido, cuando un idiota se le había echado encima con su motocicleta y lo había hecho golpearse la cabeza. Algo había pasado en su cabeza, un cambio ligero pero esencial, para que Fidel fuese capaz de acceder con tanta tranquilidad.

 Pero cada vez que lo hacía sabía que estaba llamando la atención de medio mundo, pues nadie salvo él podía acceder a recuerdo a voluntad. Era solo un privilegio para las fueras del orden y, obviamente, toda la élite de la sociedad. No había manera de saber si ya sabían que lo había hecho varias veces. Al fin y al cabo que todos los implantes oculares eran básicamente cámaras de seguridad del ejercito, así que en teoría ellos los podían usar como quisiera. La idea detrás había sido crear un mundo más seguro pero eso no había resultado como tal.

 De pronto, la puerta principal del apartamento se abrió y Fidel dio un salto del susto, pues había estado bastante concentrado en sus recuerdos. Fue a la puerta y recibió con un beso a Martín, que parecía llegar tan cansado como él. Martín no sabía lo que le ocurría a Fidel así que no habló del tema ni preguntó nada. Fidel se quedó mirando sus hermosos ojos color miel y se dio cuenta de cómo esos funcionaban a la perfección, enfocando y desenfocando en los momentos correctos.

 Martín le contó a Fidel que la policía había entrado al conjunto de torres y parecían a punto de hacer alguna acción contra el crimen. Sin dudarlo, Martín aplaudió el esfuerzo de la policía y le confesó a Fidel que, aunque muchas de las reglas y cosas que pasaban eran a veces difíciles de procesar, estaba seguro de que todo se hacía para su mejora en todos los aspectos. Por eso Fidel decidió no decir nada acerca de sus implantes. En cambio se fue a cambiar y más tarde empezó a cocinar, algo que no llevaba mucho pues cada vez hay menos que hacer.

  Hacer la cena consistía básicamente en la mezcla de varios ingredientes secos a los que se les agrega agua para que tengan una contextura bastante cercana a la real. Cuando se sentaron a comer, Fidel se dio cuenta por primera vez que nada de lo que había cocinado tenía sabor. No se podía sentir nada más sino un gusto bastante genérico que él ahora ya no disfrutaba para nada. En cambio Martín comía como si nada. Incluso pidió repetir, lo cual era posible pues esa semana habían podido tener varios bonos de comida.

 Mientras lavaba los platos, Fidel recordó una vez hacía mucho tiempo, cuando tenía unos siete años. Recordaba el sabor de una hamburguesa y todos los elementos que la hacían una hamburguesa. El tomate, la cebolla, el queso, la carne, la lechuga y el pan. Todo volvía a su mente de forma sorprendente. Tuvo que dejar de limpiar pues el recuerdo se hizo tan vivido que sus manos temblaron y casi hace un desastre. Martín, en la sala viendo televisión, ni se dio cuenta de lo que pasaba. El estaba tranquilo, sin vistas al pasado.

 Cuando se fueron a dormir, Fidel no pudo apagar sus receptores oculares para lo que supuestamente era descansar. Se le había ocurrido la idea de que habría más gente como él, capaces de recordar el mundo que había existido antes. Muchos odiaban el pasado y estaban seguros de que todo lo actual para ellos era lo mejor que se podía haber creado. Pero Fidel nunca había sentido esa aversión y ahora tenía una ventana a todo lo que había existido antes y, la verdad, le gustaba mucho echar un ojo de vez en cuando al pasado.

 No despertó a Martín pero se rehusó a dormir. A lo lejos, se escuchaba como la policía usaba sus amas. Pudo oír gritos, algunos pidiendo ayuda. No sabía dónde estarían pero sabía que poco a poco se estaban acercando a él. De alguna manera sabía que ese sueño no podía ser. El orden del mundo estaba establecido y estaba seguro de que tarde o temprano, alguien notaría que sus implantes no estaban funcionando correctamente. Vendrían a encerrarlo o peor. No sabía que les pasaba a los que habían visto la verdad.  

sábado, 5 de noviembre de 2016

Active dreaming

   When I realized, I was at the beach. But it wasn’t like all other times. This time I was the only person there. My bare feet sunk into the sand as the ocean brought water and foam to the shore. The rhythm of the water was pretty soothing and I couldn’t help but notice the most particular colors in the horizon. The sun was going down and it was a show that deserved to be seen. I felt as if I was the only person allowed to see the beauty of the world and I was thrilled to have been chosen. I sat down on the sand and watched the lights.

 It was beautiful. So much more than anything that I would have seen in other circumstances. I liked to feel the sand on my legs and feet, on my hands as I watched an iridescence in the horizon. It was just like a rainbow forming but not in the sky but there, far in the horizon, over the ocean. It was so weird to be able to see it and to be there in my yellow trunks, the ones I loved to wear every time I actually went to the beach. They were my favorite and, of course, I was wearing them as I saw the most spectacular natural show.

 I knew nothing that I saw was actually real. Not the beautiful colors and tones, not the sand in my hands or even my yellow trunks. My brain had made copies of many experiences and was using them as I slept, replicating memories with some amazing twists. I didn’t mind to be in such a wonderful dream, I wanted to stay there more in order to be able to enjoy once more everything that I had loved before and even actually enjoy it this time. It often happens in real life that you don’t notice the world because of stupid little things.

 That dream was bases on one of the many times I had been to the beach but it also used one memory that I almost never remembered, which was walking by the shore during the winter. It was the only time I saw the beach empty so I guess my brain combined a little bit of each experience to create what I was watching. The show in the horizon, which ended soon enough, was something out of my head. I have no idea how it created all of that beauty but I was glad to have seen it and to have been able to enjoy such a beautiful spectacle.

 I stood up and walked a little bit. The sand was nicer than normal. I realized that my memory of the actual sand of that beach had not been used to create that space. Some memory of another beach had been used for the sand, as it was not as rough or coarse as the actual one that I had felt all over my body when I had visited that urban beach. The sand on which I was walking on came from a memory of some volcanic beach that I had visited many years ago with some friends and with… With someone else I had completely forgotten about until then.

 Of course, he was suddenly there. His face was partly in shadows, as I sadly didn’t remember what he looked like. I did recall he was tall and rather skinny. He wore those exact trunks to the beach, those blue ones that seemed to be too large for him. I remember he was drunk most of the time we were there. I guess that’s why nothing happened: after I rejected him because he was been too annoying, I saw him sneaking into a bedroom with a girl we had met earlier on the beach. That didn’t hurt me but it made me feel I was right about him all along.

 He disappeared from the beach and I decided to keep walking. As I did, building and trees began to appear on the side, just crossing a road. Again, that mix of things was the results of many memories trying to create something I didn’t quite remember. One of the buildings was the one I stayed in during a trip to Barcelona and the other was my hotel in Rio and the park was the one I played in my childhood. Seeing all that together gave me a slight headache so I decided to keep walking, closing my eyes for a short time.

 When I opened them, I was somewhere else. I was still barefoot and actually completely naked. No yellow trunks or any other piece of clothing. And it was happening in the worst place possible: it was my high school’s theater. I ran to the side, behind the curtain, and apparently no one saw me. I looked into the crowd and didn’t recognize anyone. Then again, none of their faces were actually clear and perfect. They were all in shadows. It was obvious that memory was kind of repressed or I just didn’t remember any of them at all.

 Suddenly, a bunch of people appeared on stage and they started doing a dance. Then it clicked: I was in my senior year performance for my physical education class. As I was a really lazy person for sports, and also sucked at them hard, I had entered the girl group where they danced and did rather easy things. It was a very sexist thing to have but I was obviously not against it. It gave me a way to escape the sports and the laughter of all the other guys in high school. So I didn’t mind I had to dance to any type of music.

 Then, we all appeared on the beach and I saw myself perform there, on the sand by the ocean. It was beautiful and it really improved the actual memory, which I never really recalled because I never thought about high school. It had been such a trying moment for me that I just attempted to erase every single memory that had to do anything with that time. Of course, the brain never forgets every single thing and that dance routines, as bad as it was, was one of the memories preserved.

 When the act was finished, they all disappeared and I stayed in the beach alone, walking as the wind moved my hair. I was aware that it was only me who controlled everything that was happening in the dream. I was the one deciding to go to my high school or to stay at the beach or to mix up both things to improve one of the memories. I could have woken up a long time ago but I wasn’t doing that and I had no idea why. What was it? What was I doing there that seemed so important? The past didn’t have any clues or magic for me.

 I decided to go for a swim and ran to the water. I jumped into it and water splashed all over the place. I moved my arms fast, trying to propel myself further into the ocean, farther from the beach than in any other time. I knew I couldn’t get hurt so I forced my body and my mind. When I emerged from the water, I didn’t saw the beach anymore. Instead, I was in a swimming pool I had when I was little. I had fallen into it once, fully clothed but that was not the memory I was in there for. Actually, I didn’t even know if it was a memory.

 No one else beside me was there. I climbed the stairs out of the water and then walked towards the door and opened it. Yes, I entered the house through the kitchen and then the living room. It was amazing that I could remember everything about that house. I loved the bedrooms there and also the small room upstairs as it was just like the secret hideout I had always wanted to have. I was again in my yellow trunk but no water was dripping from them and I was glad that was the case because that place was too precious to mess it up.

 I decided to exit through the front door. On the other side, there was only darkness. I couldn’t see or hear anything but after a while, I did feel something. It was someone else there, with me. We hugged and gently touched each other’s bodies. We then kissed very softly and then more and more until we lay on the invisible ground and made love right there. Everything felt so real; I could almost smell his skin and feel his breathing on my neck. It was perfect but it ended soon enough. A very dim light went on and I could just see a glimpse of his back.

 It was cruel from me to do that to myself. But maybe it had not been me in control all the time. Who knows, maybe something else gets into our dreams with us and plays around with our thoughts and memories. Or maybe it was me and I was just attempting to make a point. Anyway, when I woke up I was really warm and had to drink two glasses of orange juice to compensate for all that walking. And as I did that, I realized I remembered every single thing about the dream. That made me smile.