by Luca Rossi
As soon as she had calmed down, Maria got up, went to the door, let Maciste back in and slammed the door again in Nuccio's face, who had remained patiently waiting the entire time. Then she started to frantically run around the house.
She actually didn't have much worth bringing to Turin. People in that city weren't like the bumpkins in this town. She put on her best dress for the trip and a few others in her suitcase, just for the first days. With the money she'd make from the production, she'd buy next week what she hadn't been able to afford all these years on a teacher's salary. She closed her suitcase and studied it. At least it'll be easy to carry! Maciste nuzzled her palm, and she yanked her hand away, disgusted. Then she went around the house, covering the furniture with sheets. Maciste followed her closely, observing her every movement. She gave him a few leftovers from last night's dinner and, now that she was finished getting ready, sat on the couch, already dressed and ready for tomorrow's trip. There was no use in trying to sleep: she was nowhere near tired.
When the grandfather clock struck four, Maria grabbed her overcoat and left the house. Maciste, happy to go for an unexpected nighttime stroll, slipped out before she could close the door.
Oh no, the dog! What do I do now? “Go, go play,” she told him, pointing in the direction opposite the one she wanted to take. Maciste stayed frozen, looking at her, tipping his head to the side.
She turned and ran. He immediately followed her. Maria stopped in a huff. She picked up a stone and threw it at the dog, just missing him. He went to go get it, brought it back and waited for her to continue playing the game.
On the brink of exasperation, Maria returned to the house and, leash in hand, came back outside. She called the dog over and attached the leash to him, then tied it around the doorknob. Satisfied, she started walking, but Maciste started to jump and bark.
“Shh...you need to be quiet!” Oh good God, what do I do now? she wondered, worn-out. She ran back to the animal, fearing that he might wake someone with his howling. She let him loose and took a quick glance at the houses around her to see if anyone had turned on their lights.
Then she started walking again, as Maciste followed her.
After about an hour, halfway there, she looked around. The road stretched out through the flat Piedmontese plain. A subtle pallor started to play with the night in the East. Maciste ran happily through the cultivated fields.
She put her suitcase down and whistled. The loyal dog ran towards her immediately and let her attach one end of the leash to his collar. Maria then led him to a tree at the edge of the road. She passed the other end around the trunk and tied it into a tight knot, then picked up her suitcase and calmly began walking. The dog started barking nonstop. He jumped up, pulling the leash until he almost choked. Maria continued on her way, thinking about the diva hairdo she'd be flaunting once she got on the set.
Joanna held her hand out over the edge and helped Nick up the last few feet. The man's face was covered in sweat, showing signs of extreme fatigue. Once he was over the precipice, he fell down heavily against the rock wall, still wearing his backpack over his shoulders. Joanna remained standing, waiting patiently. He wiped his forehead and stared at her bare legs, going from the tops of her feet up to her lime green shorts. He was so tired that he didn't even care about trying to make his staring less intrusive.
“Nick, this is just the beginning. A few hundred yards up, we'll go back to climbing an even more difficult path. Maybe we should consider today a training day and try again next weekend.”
His pride wounded, Nick mustered up what was left of his strength and answered:
“What? I hope you're joking! I don't intend on stopping here. Let's do the trail as planned, I just need to catch my breath. The only thing is that...that...” he stopped, looking at the confused expression on the beautiful woman's face, “that you're too fast!”
“If you want to, then sure. Let's go a little slower this time,” she responded, turning to adjust the snap-hooks on the clasps fixed to the rock. He didn't miss the opportunity to feast his eyes on her butt.
After a few minutes of careful observation, he felt that he had recovered enough to continue. “Let's go!” he told her, in a tone that was just a bit too loud.
“You don't want to rest a little longer?” she asked, without turning to look at him.
“I said let's go!” he responded, offended.
They started walking again along a path cut into the steep vertical wall. At that point the cliff was over a mile high. Tonight I'm going to fuck her, he thought, let's see if she's such a big tease after that! Absorbed in his thoughts and focused on her backside, Nick took a wrong step and lost his balance. Joanna turned around quick as lightning and stretched out her hand to catch him, just missing him. Nick slid along the edge; Joanna dropped to the ground to grab his other hand and, this time, succeeded.
Nick tried to grip onto the woman with his other hand. His feet searched for something he could use to stabilize himself. “Help me, pull me up!” he begged, looking up at her. Their eyes met. She felt something awaken within her, a sensation she had never felt before in her life. The memory of an old pain radiated through her soul.
Nick looked at Joanna's vacant eyes and transfigured face. Terror and a feeling of guilt swept through him. He didn't have time to understand, since Joanna's grip loosened and he started to fall. He felt abandoned. Sensations transformed into memories and he again saw what had happened: his hands tying the leash around the tree trunk, the dog looking with pleading eyes towards him. Nick lost consciousness and fell downwards. His ears echoed with the yelps, the barks, and the suffering of that creature. Maciste, Joanna.
The rope tightened, cutting his fall short and slamming him hard against the wall. Nick was brusquely brought back to the reality of this life.
From above, Joanna looked at him dangling from the safety cord andsmiled.
Clouded Emotions
Prequel
I – Alpha resource
“The man you are looking at is Mario Orsini,” the smartphone says.
Isabella strolls along the park path. A light autumn breeze caresses her hair and ripples through the tree branches, which let their leaves fall. She studies the face of the man who will become her husband. An elongated nose, angular features, lean cheeks, slightly tousled brown hair, intense eyes with just a touch of madness to them. I could do worse.
“He's a programmer: he works in a small company that works as a subcontractor for video game and virtual reality projects,” the voice adds. “Mario helps develop artificial intelligence. His profile identifies him as an Alpha resource for DataCom projects. We must act quickly: you need to meet him tonight. Tonight he'll be a bar with his boss, Roberto. Start studying the attitudinal notes immediately.”
The image of Mario disappears, replaced by a list of information on his life. Isabella sits down on a bench and starts reading: personal tastes, acquaintances, hobbies, friends, intimate details. The woman studies it, writing down everything she finds useful. She asks the device a few questions, and it answers with clear, efficient responses.
Isabella leaves the park and makes her way to a neighborhood full of shops. She buys only the types of clothes that Mario is known to admire on a woman. After a long session in a beauty salon, she sports bright yet discrete makeup, and a slightly wavy, warm chestnut hairdo that grazes the tops of her shoulders. Lucky for me, he's not into blondes. She runs home to take care of the last few preparations.
“Hello, woman of Mario Orsini's dreams,” she says, pleased, looking at herself in the large mirror in her room.
“Your image corresponds ninety-seven percent to Mario's tastes,” confirms the smartphone. That brainiac is going to like me a lot more than just ninety-seven percent, she thinks mischievously.
II – The meeting
Isabella enters the bar and spots Mario and Roberto sitting at a table in the corner. Her walk is confident. Many men and a few women turn to look at her figure as she
settles onto a stool near the bar. She mentally reviews Mario's profile. He loves women's legs, especially if they're in the dominant position. She takes off her dark grey coat and places it between herself and the back of the chair. She crosses her legs.
He doesn't drink hard liquor and feels uncomfortable with women who order drinks that have a higher alcohol content than wine or beer, she recalls. “A glass of white wine, please,” she tells the bartender, who lingers a few seconds too long on her green eyes. As she waits for her order, she takes out her smartphone and starts chatting with a friend. He is attracted to women who act stand-offish: this sums up Mario's taste in women.
Roberto gives Mario a look, nodding towards Isabella. Mario glances over at the bar and sees her: black shoes with stratospheric heels, crossed legs, red dress, plunging neckline, angelic face, wavy hair with a dazzling sheen to it. Holy shit! Is that her? Suddenly agitated, he turns to Roberto: “Did you see her?” forgetting that his friend was the one who pointed her out.
“What a hottie! I saw her come in. It looks like she's waiting for someone.”
Mario can't take his eyes off of her, and Isabella raises hers from her phone. The two men pretend to look elsewhere. She takes a sip of wine and goes back to chatting. The two go back to looking her up and down.
“I'm going in.” Mario announces. His friend has much more experience and confidence when it comes to picking up women, but this time around, he can't miss out on the chance to meet such an attractive woman.
“How are you going to approach her?” Roberto answers in an ironic tone, smirking provocatively. He's skeptical because he knows how shy his friend is. Meanwhile, Mario keeps staring at those towering heels.
Both the question and his friend's smirk dampen Mario's enthusiasm.
After lingering a while, studying their moves out of the corner of her eye, Isabella is able to confirm what she already knew: Mario has little confidence with women. The only way to get the right reaction is to put him under pressure, so she makes as if to put her coat back on and leave.
She's too pretty! I've got nothing to lose, I better make my move: “I'm going to try!” Mario says, springing into action.
Isabella smothers a satisfied grin: just like clockwork!
Mario is already halfway to the bar when he slows down his pace and starts looking around, hoping to identify a new and unexpected reason for his approach.
She finishes putting on her coat and reaches down to move the stool in order to make her way out. Mario understands that he's going to lose his last chance and decides to jump in, just as the woman expected. “Did someone stand you up? Or are they running late?” he asks, trying to break the ice.
“My friend's babysitter got sick at the last minute,” she responds, slightly annoyed, her eyes implying “What's it to you?” She knows that Mario, deep down, likes women who are slightly intimidating.
If you don't mind, I can keep you company, Mario wants to respond, but from his embarrassed smile he's only able to let out: “You didn't finish your wine yet! How about we chat a bit?”
He's really a disaster with women! she thinks. “And your friend?” she replies, nodding ironically towards Roberto, who seems to be undressing her with his eyes.
Mario glances at his coworker, who pretends not to notice and shifts his gaze towards the bottles displayed behind the bar. He turns back to Isabella, opens his mouth to say something but hesitates, his lips parted, his eyes darting searching for something intelligent to talk about. He ends up saying nothing.
She decides to help him out a little: “Okay! I'll stay just to finish my drink.”
The triumphant joy in Mario's heart overflows through the huge smile spreading across his face.
“That's a great model! It's the latest release from DataCom,” Mario remarks, indicating her smartphone. And as he says this the triumphant joy is replaced by a sad realization: I'm an idiot. She stays to drink and all I can talk about are cell phones!
To his great surprise, the woman of his dreams sitting in front of him responds enthusiastically: “It's revolutionary! Nothing like the earlier models. With this you can...”
From the myriad of information she's collected, Isabella knows how to charm him, given his obsession with technology. Just an hour later, Mario is ready to do anything in order to spend every moment of his life with this incredible woman.
Isabella takes one last glance at her smartphone, pretending she's checking the time: “No! How did it get so late? Sorry, I have to run!” She gives him a rushed smile and says goodbye.
Caught by surprise, Mario again thinks about what to say to keep her from getting away: Do you want me to come with you? Can I have your number? What's your name? But she's already out the door. He stays, staring at her, confused and completely at a loss.
Finally he unfreezes and runs outside. Too late: a taxi with Isabella's beautiful face inside passes right in front of him.
Five, four, seven, eight. He manages to take down the car number with his smartphone.
Series 1
1/I – All over
Mario jumps into his car. The smartphone automatically connects to the audio system: “Latest news from the Milan stock exchange. Securities in real estate...”
“Um, no, no, thanks. I'd like to listen to a little music. The Scorpions, please.”
“Now you're listening to The best of the Scorpions – Wind of Change.”
The notes warm up the icy air of the car interior.
“I follow the Moskva
Down to Gorky Park
Listening to the wind of change.”
“Late-breaking news. The real estate market in downtown Milan has dropped by...”
“Enough! I don't want to hear anything about real estate. Disable automatic updates.”
“Updates disabled. You have three new emails. First message. Sender: Alberto...”
“Goddamn contraptions!” Mario sighs, exasperated. “Turn everything off!”
The road passes underneath the car's wheels. Mario doesn't seem to notice anything. Turns, traffic lights, pedestrian crosswalks. He tries in vain to keep his mind empty.
1/II – Customer service
Mario pulls up in front of the driveway. He stops the car and leans his forehead against the steering wheel. “I can't go in,” he murmurs.
The smartphone, as timely as ever, starts talking again: “Would you like to go to the bar on Morosini street? Traffic conditions: congested. Travel time: eight minutes. Three of your friends are already there: Alberto, Gino...”
“No, please. Disable help, updates, everything.”
“Connection to customer service underway.” the device responds.
Mario lifts his head from the steering wheel, reaches for the smartphone nestled in the car's control panel, turns it off and takes out the battery, just to make sure. A light feeling of freedom gives him the strength to turn the ignition back on and park in the driveway in front of the garage.
He gets out of the car and moves towards the front door. He puts his hand on the doorknob. Isabella, his wife, has been waiting for hours and she opens the door, looking for a miracle in his eyes. He shakes his head “no.” She brings her hands to her face to hide the tears starting to fall.
“I'm so sorry. I...” Mario starts. He comes towards her, brushes her arms with his gentle fingers. He draws her to him, puts his hands on her back and kisses her on the forehead.
Isabella uncovers her face and lifts her eyes: “Now what?”
The display on the door activates: “It's Friday night. Would you like to make reservations at Pizza & Joy for eight thirty and a lane at the bowling alley for nine o'clock?”
Mario's eyes are cruel: “Isabella, please, let's turn off all this stuff.”
“We can't, darling, you know that.”
“Yes, yes we can!” Mario goes down to the basement and unplugs the electricity meter. As soon as he gets back to the living room, Isabella's smartphone starts to ring.
�
�It's customer service,” she says, worried.
“I'll take care of it! Give me that.”
“Please, Mario, let's not make things worse.”
With a firm yet gentle hand he takes the smartphone from her: “Hello.”
“Hello, this is operator three-hundred forty-seven from DataCom customer service. Is this Mrs. Isabella Orsini?”
“No, I'm her husband.”
“Very well. We understand that there was an interruption of DataCom service today in your smartphone as well as your residence. Is there something we can do to help?”
“Listen, we're going through something here. We need a little break.”
“The User Contract expressly forbids enabling pause mode. If we are unable to provide service, we will be forced to suspend access to video, music, TV, reservations, travel and credit card services. In addition, personal photos, files and all data stored on the DataCom servers will be inaccessible.”
Operator three-hundred forty-seven is a virtual entity. Mario, however, has no intention to give up. “Listen, please. Today I lost my job. We just need a break for a couple days. Please, don't take everything away from us.”
“The DataCom jobs service is available after termination of work contracts. You can use it to search for an exciting new employment opportunity.”
Isabella speaks up: “Mario, please...”
1/III – The code
Isabella's eyes tremble with fear. Mario feels his heart ache. He has always done everything he could to protect her.
“I'm sorry.” He touches the display and interrupts the conversation with DataCom customer service.
They stand in the living room, silent.
“Why did you do that?” she asks.
