GabriellaSivilla
Governor
I close the door. But what has happened? A magic spell? My pains have vanished at the touch of his hands, he has mystic healing powers, this doctor, I must keep his name in mind, in case I need it again. I look at his card: Dr. G. Della Cananea.
Someone called G. Della Cananea? But what G.? Why does he hide his name? I try think of a literary character, maybe one of those described in a J. Roberto Wilcock work - The Temple of the Iconoclasts, or the Book of Monsters, for example ... It's the most delusional thing that has ever happened to me. Cananea, ‘Canaanite’, might imply demoniacs... perhaps that’s the point, does that surname recall the Gospel episode of the Canaanite woman, a gentile woman, who turns to Christ to beg him to exorcise her devil-possessed daughter...?
I am conscious that I was reticent about telling the whole truth to the doctor, but how could I have told him that during the night I had been possessed by a horde of wild beasts, or demons, raped, and crucified? He found no trace of this surreal violence on my body, and neither did I, apart from the pain I was still feeling before his miraculous touch - and yet there was that rag in my throat... I pick it up, it's my panties - still wet, soaked with my saliva, or whatever else I dare not think. Surely he would have listened to me carefully, then he’d either have had me admitted to neuropsychiatry, or else he would have absolved me of my sins – his looks and manner seemed more like those of a saint than of a doctor...
But of the lightning that entered the room, there’s not a trace. My laptop is on the desk, still open, but switched off. Even though I'm still scared, I turn it on, I check the list of files, looking for videos and photos – disappeared! I check my smartphone too, the files are gone! This is a real mystery. I am tempted to go along the corridor that leads to my room, open the window overlooking the river, and throw these ghost-holders that my computer and phone have become into the muddy water. Instead I decide to delete them in a violent way: I remove the SIM from the phone, switch it on with the batteries, and put it in the shower with the back open. I open the jet, a crackling announces the discharge of the short circuit, a faint puff of steam confirms that the water has crept into the vital parts. As soon as I can extract the hard drive and destroy it with a hammer, I’ll do the same with the computer as with the phone.
For today I will not be able to do anything but use the landline phone. I call the architect to warn him that I will not be able to come out.
'Hello architect.'
'How is my ballerina?'
'I'm not too well today, last night the wind blew open the window of the room, I didn’t notice, so I got cold and now I’ve got a temperature.'
'I'm sorry. Do you need anything?'
'Yes, please - the rain has wetted my smartphone and computer, they’re drowned, they won’t work anymore. I need a new phone, but I just want one of the old ones that don’t cost much, without all those functions that only cost money and are no use. I recovered the SIM, so I won’t need a new number.'
'Do you need any medication?'
'No, thankyou, the Emergency Service Doctor has already been, he left me some antibiotic capsules, and he gave me an injection. Now I just have to stay in bed, I'll call you tonight, there's no rush ... '
'Get well! I’ll be waiting for your call.'
'Thanks, see you later.'
The drug that the doctor used for the injection is having its effect, I feel overcome by a sudden drowsiness, a numbness that is invading my body and my mind, I give myself up to it...
Someone called G. Della Cananea? But what G.? Why does he hide his name? I try think of a literary character, maybe one of those described in a J. Roberto Wilcock work - The Temple of the Iconoclasts, or the Book of Monsters, for example ... It's the most delusional thing that has ever happened to me. Cananea, ‘Canaanite’, might imply demoniacs... perhaps that’s the point, does that surname recall the Gospel episode of the Canaanite woman, a gentile woman, who turns to Christ to beg him to exorcise her devil-possessed daughter...?
I am conscious that I was reticent about telling the whole truth to the doctor, but how could I have told him that during the night I had been possessed by a horde of wild beasts, or demons, raped, and crucified? He found no trace of this surreal violence on my body, and neither did I, apart from the pain I was still feeling before his miraculous touch - and yet there was that rag in my throat... I pick it up, it's my panties - still wet, soaked with my saliva, or whatever else I dare not think. Surely he would have listened to me carefully, then he’d either have had me admitted to neuropsychiatry, or else he would have absolved me of my sins – his looks and manner seemed more like those of a saint than of a doctor...
But of the lightning that entered the room, there’s not a trace. My laptop is on the desk, still open, but switched off. Even though I'm still scared, I turn it on, I check the list of files, looking for videos and photos – disappeared! I check my smartphone too, the files are gone! This is a real mystery. I am tempted to go along the corridor that leads to my room, open the window overlooking the river, and throw these ghost-holders that my computer and phone have become into the muddy water. Instead I decide to delete them in a violent way: I remove the SIM from the phone, switch it on with the batteries, and put it in the shower with the back open. I open the jet, a crackling announces the discharge of the short circuit, a faint puff of steam confirms that the water has crept into the vital parts. As soon as I can extract the hard drive and destroy it with a hammer, I’ll do the same with the computer as with the phone.
For today I will not be able to do anything but use the landline phone. I call the architect to warn him that I will not be able to come out.
'Hello architect.'
'How is my ballerina?'
'I'm not too well today, last night the wind blew open the window of the room, I didn’t notice, so I got cold and now I’ve got a temperature.'
'I'm sorry. Do you need anything?'
'Yes, please - the rain has wetted my smartphone and computer, they’re drowned, they won’t work anymore. I need a new phone, but I just want one of the old ones that don’t cost much, without all those functions that only cost money and are no use. I recovered the SIM, so I won’t need a new number.'
'Do you need any medication?'
'No, thankyou, the Emergency Service Doctor has already been, he left me some antibiotic capsules, and he gave me an injection. Now I just have to stay in bed, I'll call you tonight, there's no rush ... '
'Get well! I’ll be waiting for your call.'
'Thanks, see you later.'
The drug that the doctor used for the injection is having its effect, I feel overcome by a sudden drowsiness, a numbness that is invading my body and my mind, I give myself up to it...