Post by account_disabled on Dec 26, 2023 0:56:54 GMT -5
Every day, and from both sides of my intelligence, moral and intellectual, I have thus constantly approached the truth, for the partial discovery of which I have been condemned to such a terrible shipwreck: that man is not truly one, but actually two. Robert Louis Stevenson (The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde) January 2, 2016, 6.24am They found my refuge. I should have expected it. Four of them arrived a few days ago, broke down the door in the middle of the night and started shooting. Now their bodies are hanging upstairs and from down here their slow dripping reaches my ears. Someone from the Gang read my blog and it didn't take them long to understand that someone spreading news was hiding here in town.
I talked about the place set on fire, the three crime detectives killed and those poor people killed. I talked too much, perhaps, but I never would have believed that those Special Data barbarians could find information on the internet. Not that there are many, to be honest. Who publishes more material online, apart from the few of us who resist a bitter fate and an ever closer condemnation? In the last few days the anxiety has given me no respite. It first appeared as a sort of emptiness around my stomach, followed by a frequent tachycardia. It was increasingly difficult for me to fall asleep and, at night, I often woke up, prey to sensations of urgency, panic and danger. I was in a cold sweat. I felt like I was suffocating.
Sometimes I found myself forced to go outdoors, out there, under the night sky. Then I started observing the stars, imagining other life in other very distant planetary systems. I was breathing deeply, as if I had to take in as much air as possible for an apnea. The cold and silence surrounded me. I was alone, damn alone. I was sure, by now, that there was no one else left in the country. The last roundup of the Desperate had been thorough. I had heard them coming that night five days ago. A single car, an off-road vehicle, and then you shoot into the cold air. I had been afraid. For a few minutes I had trembled, my heart beating like crazy. Then, to my surprise, a strange calm had taken the place of terror and I realized that I no longer feared being discovered. I was waiting for them.
I talked about the place set on fire, the three crime detectives killed and those poor people killed. I talked too much, perhaps, but I never would have believed that those Special Data barbarians could find information on the internet. Not that there are many, to be honest. Who publishes more material online, apart from the few of us who resist a bitter fate and an ever closer condemnation? In the last few days the anxiety has given me no respite. It first appeared as a sort of emptiness around my stomach, followed by a frequent tachycardia. It was increasingly difficult for me to fall asleep and, at night, I often woke up, prey to sensations of urgency, panic and danger. I was in a cold sweat. I felt like I was suffocating.
Sometimes I found myself forced to go outdoors, out there, under the night sky. Then I started observing the stars, imagining other life in other very distant planetary systems. I was breathing deeply, as if I had to take in as much air as possible for an apnea. The cold and silence surrounded me. I was alone, damn alone. I was sure, by now, that there was no one else left in the country. The last roundup of the Desperate had been thorough. I had heard them coming that night five days ago. A single car, an off-road vehicle, and then you shoot into the cold air. I had been afraid. For a few minutes I had trembled, my heart beating like crazy. Then, to my surprise, a strange calm had taken the place of terror and I realized that I no longer feared being discovered. I was waiting for them.