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  Ana-Maria Negrilă
My Hero
Fragile
De acum şi până-n noapte
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Ana-Maria Negrilă



Publicat Duminică, 19 Martie 2006, ora 20:42

      The two tongues recreated after Madonna's tongue, a well-known singer a few decades before, were tossing in the foam trying to reach him.

      However, he had had enough of all these. Damn muscles! They are only capable of rubbing you to death! "No more washing. In fact today it's my day off."

      He went in the bathroom and the cells of the carpet changed their form while he was stepping on it. The red nucleotide and green mitochondrion nucleus migrated to the residua that seemed blue on the transparent background of the cytoplasm. (This rug looks dirty. Tomorrow I'll have to call the housekeeper to sweep it!) Behind him, the structure rebuilt its initial pattern. He lifted the net of the reticular and conjunctive fibers behind which he had the make-up case.

      "You'll have a great time! It will be something special," his friends had told him" you'll remember it as long as you live!" Three fragments of lungs cut out in form of a tongue were throbbing inside the cancerous formation of a ring-shape montage. " Real cool those guys from Esthetic Bionic's!"

      "Oh, look at this", he exclaimed staring at a black arm that had blossomed four little white child-like palms since he last wore it. "I need to have it fixed." He chose two index fingers with long nails carefully painted in red and hung them by his ears. He took the arm and coiled it around his neck. It wasn't the fanciest trimming, but the classic clothes had always suited him.

      He mirrored himself in the retinal tissue that was covering the whole ceiling and was making all the chicks mad about it and willing to spend some time in his bedroom. He was looking well, without any ostentation. "It's no use covering my body in ulcerations and wounds. A man of good taste will never smarten up with such things!"

      When he went out, the guards sprayed his body with a substance synthesized in the nourishing layer of the block. " They are afraid the won't recognize me when I come back. This damn over-population."

      It was warm outside, the sky was clear and phosphorescent creatures were floating down the canal. The plants on the banks were winding their stalks and the spiral microbes were crawling on the hot pavement. They crossed the border between the districts and reached an unknown zone. Colonies of symbiotic mushrooms were growing on smooth epidermis of the blocks. The pores - miniaturized craters - were erupting sweat and mineral water, which were falling down the tanned skin. He sniffed the strange scent in the air.

      On his way, he noticed some people looking at him with discontent. Of course, those stupid workers from the outskirts had no idea what it meant to be in fashion!

      " The nearby districts has already begun to grow on horizontal," he noticed. " Good job. But it won't work, maybe just till the next year as the uptown has already sent the spores through the underground tentacles invading the free territory."

      He went on in silence and didn't stop to watch the show on the street. He avoided the bacilli and the other unicellular bacteria with the torn membranes and the cilia broken during the street fights.

      "What garbage. However, they can't live more than a few hours. The guardians will come and…that will be…"

      He had arrived at the outskirts and he hadn't discovered anything interesting yet. Had they tried to mock him? What did they say? Let's pull this guy's leg, he's such a sucker that he doesn't know what it is all about."

      " Keep cool! Maybe I've just passed by it. It's possible."

      He stopped in front a huge heap of garbage behind which something violet colored was growing. He walked around the pile of bacteria and dead cells and he found himself in front of the embryo of a block. On its skin the suburb, kids had tattooed with acid the inscription - PUB.

      Some cartilaginous joints were sustaining a board on which a bulky guard wearing the colors of the suburbs was eating a domestic virus from the center. Over the board, a large mouth was uttering acute and obscure sounds. The screen became black and a yellow arrow showed him the entrance.

      " I may have some fun here," he said.

      He went in through the long lashes. There were only a few customers inside. The man wore shabby, hand made wounds and the two girls had identical faces wrapped in violet mucus that had been in fashion an year before. In the half-dark, he saw an old man with long nails enameled in green. He looked quite familiar to him.

      " He could be one of those living in my neighborhood."

      The room was parted in two by a soft palate and some annulated cartilages. He looked back. No sign of the bartender, only the brown tissue of the palate and sound of the drops dripping from the walls. He saw the old man showing something to one of the girls. He was talking so feebly as if he were afraid someone could hear him.

      " It's as if you crossed a bridge made of ligaments built over an abyss of neuronal fibers."

      The girl wasn't very enthusiastic about his story:

      "Look Green! Find another sucker, will you! I'm not interested in such things."

      Green left her and took an inquisitory look around.

      " I hope he ain't going to bother me. I just want to mind my own business and have a good time. Look at that chick! She isn't bad at all."

      " Can I join you?"

      The damn green vegetable didn't have anything better to do except interrup him. He had already spoiled his day.

      " I've got something great for you' said the old man in an insinuating voice. " You ain't going to believe your eyes!"

      He showed him a wrap of optic fibers. Before having the time to refuse him, the old man unwrapped the package and freed the contorted body of what seemed to be a virus.

      " What kind of abortus is this?"

      "Green grinned:

      "Do you see this little throbbing point in the middle of the cytoplasm? Through it, I can control the virus. It's something different, haven't I told you that? It's a killer virus, a terminator. I think you've heard about the last-hour demolitions, about the fight for land between the center and the suburbs. They used this kind of virus. It's discreet, easy to carry, nobody can see you releasing it…"

      The image of the virus penetrated his brain. He touched it with his fingertips and its dry membrane rustled unpleasantly…

      " And what's the big deal? Do you want to sell it? I don't think it's edible and I don't need it."

      That damn old vegetable was annoying him. He'd better go back home and take a nap. Then he became startled with alarm. That story could become very dangerous and he didn't want to end up involved in God knows what. He left his place, almost hit the old man and rushed outside. He kept thinking: " This Green character seemed suspicious from the beginning. He doesn't mind his own business. An agent or something…"

      He slowed his steps only when he thought he was far enough. From time to time, he was looking back to be sure that nobody was following him. For a moment, he thought he saw the old man and he began to run once again. The image of the terminator was still obsessing him. He couldn't understand why a thing like that happened to him. Weren't there any other people with nothing to do? Why did Green choose him to spoil his day?

      " In fact, why did I go there in the first place? They had sent me somewhere else so why did I enter that damn pub? I don't have the right to complain."

      He reached the area around the blocks and he leaned exhausted against one of the ossified columns of the entrance. In front of his eyes, he still saw the twisted rope-like body of the terminator. He staggered, passed the guardians who looked disgusted at him: "Another hormone addict."

      Meanwhile, he was feeling like his head was about to explode and gradually he forgot who he was as if someone had stolen his memory. Before collapsing, he understood that the terminator was about to be born in his body using the information stored in his nervous tissue to help him materialize. The people from the corridor stared at him as he was struggling on the floor, but before they had the time to call the guards, his body began to move strangely like it was animated by another mind. Then, the thin twisted body of the virus erupted from inside his corpse leaving just an empty shell behind and disappeared passing through the wall.

      From there, it traveled through the neural structure and following the path of the nearest nerve, and it reached the brain sending false information around the block. This made the cells of the block proliferate. The nervous tissue was the first to be destroyed. Over the elevators from the veins, the heart was pulsing slower and slower delaying the oxygenation in the lungs. The arteries blocked by the residue cracked and the toxins were spread on the corridors.

      The inhabitants of the inferior levels began to fuss. However, it was too late! The diaphragm rose in a sudden hiccup and the stomach blew up flooding the abdominal cavity with acid. The people in the basement died without knowing what had happened, the others ran away, reaching the upper platforms trying to find a way to survive.

      The bones broke and their splinters tore up the intestines already burnt by the gastric juice. Then the block collapsed in a heap of dehydrated flesh. The refuse collector cells rushed to the blocks to feed from the remains and soon the territory had been cleaned up, and the nearby blocks had already activated the process of horizontal growth.

     

© Copyright Ana-Maria Negrilă
Sursa :   Imagikon
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