Chapter 11
That same time, some about ten more kilometers to north, Angel Sastri was reawakened.
The shut eyelids were still striven to hold far the light that cleared for a long time already the environment. Whatever environment was. In the intimate sought obscurity and recreated, Angel could feel only finally. Its dark belonged him, as the sense of incompleteness, of ignorance that had followed the to be revealed himself/herself/themselves of its visions.
The plant of the souls had refused him/it.
And you/he/she had left him in gift nausea, headache and idleness.
As soon as self-awareness proceeded, also the neck, the joints, the loins and the shoulders called him its aching existence back. It is to work the meats they answered crushed by his/her weight against a hard and I cool floor. An unnatural night left its trailing on an a little accustomed body to the inconvenient ones. It was not even never gone to camping, to imagine himself/herself/themselves to sleep for earth: knowingly you/he/she would never have done him/it. And you/he/she had to have drag away unconsciously from the garden moving himself/herself/itself as an automaton for the rooms of the villa.
To that point, you/he/she could not avoid him/it anymore: it opened the eyes, and he/she met the day.
The skirmishes of the sun filtered among the taxes of the windows still left half open.
Inclusive to be under him raggomitolato to a table. Looking around himself/herself/itself recognized the unmistakable furnishing of the room: above his/her head it was not able whether to be the Vitriol there.
Numbed, it went out of the impromptu shelter. It got up to work trying to readjust the articulations.
The room was empty, around him there was no anybody.
Moved the first footsteps staggering and it went out of there.
Also the atrium was desert.
Only abandoned on the steps he/she slept deeply a florid ragazzona, a beautiful eighty kilos of female, dressed of white. You/he/she had crouched against the handrail and there you/he/she had taken sleep, regardless of the indecorous neckline from which grace and abundance escaped. It had a sweet face, everything, turned to open mouth toward the sky. The regimented hair, from the artificial tones of a dark copper, they were taut back and picked in a tail.
Angel if he/she remembered her/it: during the discourse of Barletti, it was standing close to the cardinal. The girl had turned him a very interested look, in which he had perceived a position of vitality and desire that now, in that dormant bundle, you/he/she could not find again anymore.
A black shawl had slipped down from her shoulders. He picked up him/it and with it it covered her/it.
Then it passed over, climbing the staircases.
A bath. It needed a bath.
He/she didn't remember to have seen to the raised again plan one of it. Surely you/he/she would have found him/it in the main zone.
Luckily doesn't was not piss I set during his/her stadium of altered conscience, thing that could happen of frequent. But now a painful swelling to the bladder forced him/it to empty him.
And besides it needed water. Fresh water, possibly frozen, to throw to more resumptions on the face mixed of sleep.
It looked at the clock. Midday in point.
The world attended him/it. The fearful one, old world that sometimes he/she still succeeded in reserving some pleasant surprise.
Among a hour and half in Milan, you/he/she had given the word. Because the surprise attended to reveal him and so much trust it didn't deserve delays.
Upstairs the rooms were all dams. He/she didn't want to open her imagining to find inside the most embarrassing tangles of bodies.
But it entrusted him to approach to the only left half open door. It pushed her and it exactly found what it looked for.
Before it gave air to the genital ones, it pissed out the departed night and it threw the sciacquone.
Then of run to the sink, to slap the face with stabs of coolness.
With the rivulets of water, down from the face it seemed to strain away the convulsive night that could not bring away itself. The ghosts had to stay in the sewers of the villa as splatter curses movie.
It lifted the eyes to the mirror: of there of the glass, a reddened face and shiny it returned a careful look. You surprised to still succeed in recognizing himself/herself/themselves.
It opened then the mouth and it gave breath to a voice that, in that place, you have to play him distant.
«It looks, it is as if it arrived to you to the sudden one, you don't know from where, a fresh egg.» Dopotutto, whether to languish with his/her single life when so so many it had available of it? «If you are not ready to seize him/it, you will allow to gather of it or you will let him/it fall. In the one case and in the other, you him squacquererà before or I set. If you are ready, you pick him/it up, you perforate him/it, and you drink him/it to you. What does it stay you in hand?»
Applauses.
Real, sonorous, slippery as the water on his/her skin.
On the door, from when it appreciated the to flow some verses the wise Charles Pezzali?
«Now I can say to have felt to recite you.»
Angel resorted to the towel.
«You/he/she has remained satisfied of it, doctor?»
The soaked towel appeared inactive as that empty hull of which it evoked the answer from a nonexistent shoulder.
«And you? Have you been satisfied from the night?»
«And this is the concept! You pierce him/it in the pin of your pin and you have a good time making to turn him/it, or, light light by now, you the giuochi as a ball of celluloid, from a hand to the other: there, there and there... then: paf! You crush him/it among the hands and you throw away it.»
It launched the towel toward the basket, remaining on the edge of it dormant. Bankrupt basket.
«I have seen the nest» Pezzali told him.
A fatal sentence nailed Angel Sastri to its responsibilities.
Disappointed by the failure, you/he/she had tried to wriggle out himself/herself/themselves. But the great Work again clutched him/it, and it immobilized him/it to stare at her/it in the eyes. A constraint to which the histrion had the authorization to escape. But in that eyes, over them, the abyss didn't admit derogations.
«I have seen the nest, I have seen again him» it continued Pezzali. «You know what he/she wants to say, true?»
Angel made sign of yes with the head.
«Yes. I believe of yes. It has to do with our job.»
«It is our job» it nervously replied the scientist.
The nest is that place of the mind where the visions are born, they grow, they nourish him and they attend. It is an archetype neuropsicologico that you/he/she can be fully only today inclusive. It is the principal source of inspiration of our specific job.
The words with which Ricciuti had introduced him/it in the matter riaffiorarono in his/her thoughts.
«What you/he/she has exactly seen, Pezzali?»
«Desires indeed to know him/it? It is natural: the DMT still disorientates yourself. It is not to dominate effortless her, not even I am not able of it. Only with the time you can face consequent visions, you will meet spirits already seen, that you/they live an independent and parallel life to yours, for which the time goes by just as for you.»
«You/he/she is escaping my question doctor. What has you/he/she seen? What is really the nest?» it again pursued him/it.
Pezzali welcomed the application of the pargoletto faking not to notice his/her excitement. It smiled at him, as a cantastorie ago with his/her impatient public.
«I leaned out me from a kind of terrace, to divide me from a precipice there was a bundle of blue light as a power drain in movement. To my shoulders there was someone. I knew that there was, because it was alive in my thoughts. I knew to have already met him/it, I felt that you/he/she had recognized me. But it still kept silent, and it pushed me toward the threshold of the ground.
Over my eyes, sunk in the abyss, a cylindrical structure as a dizzy tower it rose. You attach to it as the cells of a beehive, there were the incubators. To their inside the bodies: fetuses, children, men. As a good doctor I made my turn: I observed her one to one, without hurry, and I saw the bodies change, to grow, to develop himself/herself/themselves. He who drove me it pushed me over, more and more in low, up to that my eyes could see and my mind to understand. But then, also for me it ended. The limit was marked over which could not go. And the being abandoned me. I had become useless, evidently. What is the nest exactly, do you ask me? We are not able he/she anchors to know him/it. But we believe with conviction that is, in a certain sense, our future.»
«Production seriale of perfect human beings. Is this closed inside of us? Freeing the mind from the ties, is it there that we come?»
«Not only, Angel. This is one of the so many possibilities that our mind offers us. The elements are common, recurrent, from the man's origins a today's day. But not all we are admitted to the same visions. The main point is to pursue in them the truth.»
«But she had already seen the nest.»
«Already twice. And it is really this event that my experience of this night has made extraordinary: it is the first time that happens me to have a same vision with a different drug. I had already visited the nest in precedence, but they were base sessions of LSD. The DMT had opened wide only me visions of natural entity, beings half man and animal half. As you/he/she will also be happened to you.»
Angel didn't answer. It had too hunger to understand for favoring the fragile perceptions of which he/she wanted to fall to pieces himself/herself/themselves.
«How ago to be sure that I/you/he/she am not her to recall these visions from his/her unconscious?»
«Because I am not the first one to have her, neither I will be the last. Do you know the writings of doctor John Mack?»
«Yes. I have read Abduction: Human Encounters with Aliens, where it compares the testimonies gotten under hypnosis by a series of people that you/they have declared to have been abducted from the alien ones.»
«And do you know how much among them you/they have described the nest? It is an experience shared by different people, that to be himself/herself/themselves to the presence of structures in which the development of the forms of life is managed in series and artificially.»
«We are conditioned from similar images. The places where we were born, those where we grow, the films that we see. Is the future seriale a nightmare that he/she bothers us: as it is able not to think that I/you/he/she deal with inductions of our culture?»
Pezzali observed the sceptic. Sinned has not been a scientist it was found to think of all sincerity.
«Because these visions preesistono to the modern man. It is as ancient beliefs the man himself they show him/it. There is a story, for example, that unites different tribes of Siberia. All the souls of their sciamanis are brought during the states of trance on a gigantic tree, that rises to the feet of a called sacred mountain Jokuo. On every branch of the tree different nests rise. The sciamanis same tell that is there that their spirit drives, a man crow, their insignia the art of the recovery, strengthens them and nourishes them. A tree full of cells and every of these it feeds a living being. Do you believe that the siberianis of the prehistory could be conditioned from the films of Spielberg or from the novels of Asimov? Simply they didn't know, what you/they were seeing and you/they have described him/it in the way for them more comprehensible.»
«And is it this to justify ours operated? Collective visions metatemporali?»
«No.» It went off in to answer Pezzali, severe, but not angry. «Ours operated is correct to put aside. The humanity asks for him/it: it is the right to be healthy and happy that is enough from itself to justify what we do. What is contained in our mind is the further base of it. A walk, already by itself ethically correct, to the light of the experiences extrasensoriali becomes necessary ontologicamente. Don't you understand? It is the output port for the superstitions, the religions, the tyrannies. And it is a shortcut, a light that can drive more quickly our footsteps toward the creation of the new man.»
«The new man.» it whispered undecided, while to the mind of actor it appeared on the surface him to Leo Gala post-modern, The depart of to post-modern Prometeo, able with the purpose to grab the egg, pierced to him/it, to drink him/it and to throw him/it street dark without to cry and to torment himself/herself/themselves on the shed crocks. «The over-man, whose handed the genetics generously has us so much wide open. And that technology could produce with the precision of the industry. And us, driven by our visions, we make us pranks of a cruel god that have nailed us to well precise limits.»
«You/he/she has not nailed us: you/he/she has pointed out them so that we overcame them. What a god exists or no, how much more similar to he is given to know there we are still ourselves. Is The road to be god closed inside of us: who we am to despise her/it? Who are for ignoring her/it?»
«God told us not to eat any forbidden fruit.»
«Here any god has set a veto. There is only a spocchioso dwarf dressed of white that arrogates the right to represent him/it. Daily it shouts for the immutability of the servant and the inevitability of the pain. "You suffer, people, suffer. And you will earn the eternal life. Not without having left a suitable offering to us, that am the custodians of the passage".»
«But will the world that we are building know how to cancel indeed the pain?»
Attended Pezzali. He/she didn't answer but it tried to understand.
«After all you are still afraid» it told him. «There is something in this that unites yourself to your sister. What have you seen tonight therefore, Angel?»
Seen. Felt. Dreamt. With which to admit the failure verb?
«You/they have refused me» it announced of throw.
«Here is the truth, therefore. Your tempering cannot accept him/it. How can you trust those people who it sticks of you they don't entrust him?»
He/she remembered, winding to bashful the ribbon of the memory, on which images and sounds relived slow. And a voice told a last, apparently useless detail.
«Only at the end I have gathered some words. The images by now they were enfeebled entirely and I was about to fall in a sleep without dreams. It is to the sleep it accompanied me a whisper": you are not able now." It told me. "Not yet." Then void.»
«It is a promise Angel. The spirits always maintain their word. Inside of you there is a void. You have only to find what it misses.»
Angel Sastri was already too much tired. It groped absorbed in the too much that had for understanding what the little that it missed him was.
It felt joint the time to wriggle out himself/herself/themselves from that night. It was correct to postpone.
Since away from all this, in the known and tired world, you/he/she had left a promise free, a simple word of honor, of those that usually badminton away even before those normal.
It looked at the time: it was midday and a half.
«Now I have to go.»
Pezzali removed from him from the passage.
«We will make you know when it will be next time» it announced him. «And where.»
Angel nodded and taken rapid the street of the staircases.
It had a hour to reach the center in Milan. To attend him/it, a tangled enigma even more of that just left. Since, to help to look at him/it inside himself there would not have been even the DMT.