A rumor that I hear from afar. A few steps from the end of the hall, I can feel as they approach slowly, without pause but with determination. Without speaking, I can hear them whisper my name. I am absolutely certain that they will knock on my door; I can imagine his knuckles dry as a result of having left marks on many faces; I am terrified of the idea that my face will be the next to meet them.
I have that strange emptiness in my stomach, which comes only when a terror takes over our senses. I’m sweaty but I feel cold. I do not move thus avoiding shaking my breath. I repeat myself a thousand times that I must remain calm. They will ask me many times the same thing, I can not doubt, they will be good and then bad; They will feed me and then beat me. Their faces are hidden under tight caps with a wide visor. There is not the slightest hint of humanity and their voices are steely and without an echo. Their look is an ice floe that does not miss the smallest detail. I have seen them pass by me in the street through the crowd. They do not turn, do not respond, do not respect, just move forward. I fear them because they beset me even in nightmares.
In their passage, other people avoid them, they do not dare to look them straight ahead. I’m surprised that they don’t see them in the face, just like me, they don’t want to be their next victim. We all feel that fear. Nobody wants to fall into their hands that look like rusty tongs.
This time I have no doubt, they come for me. A few nights ago I could clearly hear the old man in the next apartment being dragged across the room; there was no mediation of words, just deaf violence. They always arrive at night, in the day they are only a shadow among the crowd. There are many and you can recognize them because their looks seem lost in the distance, but there is something about them that shows they are seeing everything around.
Since they began to proliferate I have changed the routes by which I arrive at the building where I live. Whenever I can, one block before arriving and where I can see the entrance, I try to get away from the lamppost, light a cigarette, and wait. I don’t want one of them to take me by surprise. I fear them.
On more than one occasion I have tried to find out with other people in the street: who are they? What do they do? Who sends them? And I only got frightfulness sighs. They move away because they also fear them. When I tried to investigate, they fled as if I had mentioned that I was a carrier of a contagious disease. No one wants to get in trouble with them.
Once, while I was having a coffee in a cafe near my work, one of them passed very close to me, the hairs of my neck and my arms bristled, a lump formed in my throat, I felt the slight tremor in my hands and trying not to look nervous I drank a sip of coffee without blowing it; I burned but held on to not attract his attention. I don’t want to be seen because I know that once they realize my existence, my doubts, and my fear, they will pounce on me like hyenas that attack when they know that their prey is weak and outnumbered, they will disappear as they have done with the rest.
I don’t want to end up like the old man in the next apartment. I don’t want to end up somewhere dark and empty, with mold and insects. I do not want to be tortured and try to forcefully tear away a truth that I don’t know. I fear for my life and how everyone behaves in front of them, with feigned indifference, I know that they also fear them.
I try to imagine what can make them get the attention of a particular individual and avoid doing what I think can attract their eyes to me.
The more I want to know about them, the more I join in an abyss of questions. I have become a lonely man. I am direct and do not engage in conversation with anyone. I haven’t got a single person that inspires confidence.
The last time I tried to start a conversation with someone, I did it in the subway; I started with a trivial issue, but as just as I asked about the men watching us, he stuttered and when he saw that I was serious, he got off at the next station. It was obvious that he didn’t want to be heard talking about them. Maybe he thought I was one of them trying to get some information.
Uncertainty had been killing me all this time. I struggled between maintaining the hope that they would never come for me even though all this time I have had the certainty that they know of my existence and a kind of conformist abandonment, accepting the destiny that hangs over me.
Tonight all my fears come true. I hear them coming, walking through the hall. I can hear every step, heavy because of their boots. The buckles sound is where they have to hang the hookahs. I have to pee. I don’t know whether to light a cigarette; it may be the last one for the rest of my life. I swear a thousand times that I will not panic.
All the lights in the apartment are off. The light passing under the main door betrays them. There are several of them. I see that they line up and their shadow covers the entrance of light. I am in total darkness, in sepulchral silence.
I am not a violent man. Rather thin and I have always been of delicate health. I have no weapons in my house, I have never manipulated any. The kitchen knife won’t help me make my way to freedom. I know they outnumber me.
The apartment is very small so I have nowhere to hide. Any space where I can hide is obvious in the sight of an inexperienced, not to mention they are trained as hunting dogs.
I try to raise something similar to prayer but only a murmur full of thoughts and ravings comes out of me.
I look out the window thinking of a possible escape, but I immediately realize that the sixteen floors that separate me from the roadway are a step high enough to take it.
I feel like it’s been hours since the moment I saw the shadows line up in front of my door and my arrival at the window. They have enough security to be in a group and armed, so as not to bother to knock on the door, I only hear the voice that tells me in a calm tone but without room for doubt: “We know you’re there, open the door, We just want to ask you some questions”.
The moment that I have feared so much in the last two years when I began to notice his presence everywhere has arrived. I had enough time to plan how to escape from them, but now, my time has run out. I feel like a mouse that, being cornered, tries to inflict a wound, however small, to the cat that is about to eat it. I stand, firm, take out my chest like a good soldier would do and say: come and get me.
The same voice of the seconds answers me with the same calm of a moment: “We had you for a long time, more than you think. We know your habits, the cigarettes you smoke a day, what you have for lunch, what position you adopt when you sleep, that you babble when you are immersed in your dreams. You stay up because we want to. Open the door”, and this time in a tone steeped in authority but showing no discomfort nor impatience he said, “Now!”
As hypnotized by his words, I found myself taking two steps to the door to open it. I stopped short. I knew that if I opened it I´ll be lost forever and that I wouldn’t live anymore. I turned around and advanced towards the window. I felt like the cool of the night caress my face. This time, the step seemed shorter and kinder. I grabbed the window frame and felt the door cracked behind me. I took one last look back and saw the shining boots.
For the first time since I got to that apartment, I didn’t feel vertigo. For a brief moment, I felt brave enough and with all my strength I jumped.
The speed and pressure of the air covering my body was a feeling that hugged me with peace. While falling I can assure you that I did it with a smile because I knew that it was the step to freedom. I can proudly say that I was my own liberator, the emancipator of a spirit that had been oppressed by fears and uncertainty. The yoke of a silent dictatorship would not loom over me like a burning seal. I think I laughed at the thought of all those who were left behind at the mercy of a minority that has the power and I could only wish that, like me, they would forge their freedom even if it meant crossing the last frontier.
JDR 03/15/2012