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Index of chapters
| ➡ Chapter 1 ➡ Chapter 2 ➡ Chapter 3 ➡ Chapter 4 ➡ Chapter 5 ➡ Chapter 6 ➡ Chapter 7 ➡ Chapter 8 ➡ Chapter 9 ➡ Chapter 10 ➡ Chapter 11 ➡ Chapter 12 ➡ Chapter 13 ➡ Chapter 14 ➡ Chapter 15 ➡ Chapter 16 ➡ Chapter 17 ➡ Chapter 18 ➡ Chapter 19 ➡ Chapter 20 ➡ Chapter 21 |
➡ Chapter 22 ➡ Chapter 23 ➡ Chapter 24 ➡ Chapter 25 ➡ Chapter 26 ➡ Chapter 27 ➡ Chapter 28 ➡ Chapter 29 ➡ Chapter 30 ➡ Chapter 31 |
Gianluca Neri was born in 1971 in Milan, Italy and lives there. He started working at the age of 21 in the celebrated italian satirical newspaper "Cuore"; then he founded one of the most well-known communities on the net, "Clarence", inspired by Frank Capra's "It's a Wonderful Life". He wrote for italian tv, and he's addicted to many american series. He's a Douglas Adams fanatic.You can reach him writing to
![neri [at] macchianera [dot] net](http://www.macchianera.net/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/emailaddress.png "neri [at] macchianera [dot] net"){kind=small}
(English translation by Paola Corazza)
Favorite Pages
Italian version
- So, this is the end?
- You didn’t want to believe me, but I tried to explain it: nobody can outsmart the “Great Phone Directory of the Earth and neighbouring planets (Jupiter not included)”.
- And, so: is that all ? I mean, I am here, waiting to die without even reacting somehow?
- No, well, you are totally free to react in the way you believe it’s more appropriate.
- Would it make any difference ?
- Obviously not.
- But, I’ve said that already, you seem absurdly calm to be the spokesperson of an entire civilization that, within nine minutes...
- Eight, now…
- …of a civilization that within eight minutes will have surely become extinct.
- The thing is, if I showed my anxiety, I would only make the three billion, one hundred sixty-eight million, four hundred thousand eleven, seven hundred and twenty-nine companions here outside the phone booth, waiting for the slightest sign, worry in vain.
- May I make an objection?
- Sure. Besides, we have some time to kill, seven useless minutes.
- Those people have all the right to know that their species is condemned to extinction.
- Believe me, it’s not easy to keep this dumb and grateful smile for hours on my face. But I’ll ask you anyway: would it make any difference?
- Well, if I were told that the human race is doomed and will not live past my generation, there are loads of things I would start and many others I would stop doing.
- Like what?
- Like, for instance, it would be pointless to keep on recycling.
- But I remember you saying you have never recycled.
- Does it matter? I am not talking about me, but of the whole human race: if we didn't know that someone is about to inherit the planet, we would all be free to keep air conditioning at full power, use the car just for a drive around the neighbourhood, or keep all the lights switched on at home. And yes, why not: we could all stop paying our bills and fines. And taxes, too.
- Unfortunately, your outlook on your planet is sadly limited to the human race. As if the Earth, once your species has disappeared, could not become immediately available for a new civilization that intends to live here.
- Yes, but now I know that even if you have regularly purchased it, you are condemned to extinction, and only about forty years later than us.
- Which would mean forty years of carbon oxide you could have spared us if only their lordships here hadn’t had the urgent need to use the car just for a drive around the neighbourhood. But then, in any case, let me remind you that the Terrestrials and the Sednians are not the only species here. The Universe is big enough to make our disappearance go almost unnoticed. Quite simply, on one of the next mornings, a Mermellind or Hoitytoity husband will wake up, drag himself to the kitchen, have a look at the paper before breakfast, and then will tell his wife : “Huh, remember those Jovials and those Terrestrials who live down the road?”. “Yes, what about them?” - she will ask, and he will go: “They have died out last night, all of a sudden”. Can you imagine what will be the wife’s reaction?
- No.
- She will say: “Oh, poor souls: they seemed such nice races! Are you having butter on the polystyrene toast to dunk in your tea, darling?”.
- Well, it's all rather sad, actually.
- You only made a list of things you would stop doing: sad, if anything, is your outlook on the future.
- What can I say, I am becoming extinct.
- Can’t you think of other things you would start, or, simply do now?
- In five minutes?
- Four, to be precise.
- I would like to have sex for the last time.
- You would spend your last four minutes having sex?
- No, you are right: generally three minutes are enough. The last one is for the cigarette.
- You may smoke it, if you want.
- Of course, I could, if I hadn’t water up to the waist: the lighter I had in my pocket is all soaked.
- How would you like to spend your last 240 terrestrial seconds?
- I know I may seem a little importunate, but are you totally sure there is no other way to save my life?
- Would it be of help if I said there is?
- Well, if it was true, well, yes.
- I think it's better if I told you there isn’t.
- But I remember that – I was thinking about it when talking - before illustrating to me the marriage solution, you had clearly stated there were a couple of things we could try.
- So?
- You said “a couple”, but as far as I know we have tried only one.
- Oh.
- “Oh” over here is considered a possibilistic answer.
- Not much.
- In its own way, even “not much”, over here, may be seen as a possibilistic answer. Is there a solution you are hiding from me?
- It's not really a solution.
- Please, don't make me call you names I would have to explain the meaning of: tell me clearly if I have another chance!
- It’s that... you know… with only three minutes left…
- We have only three minutes left only because you have involved me in this pointless pissing about until now!
- We could say it would have been a kind of... creative attempt, if anything. Something that had dawned on me, but that nobody has obviously ever tried.
- I want to know what it is anyway.
- Before even trying, we would have needed a specific condition to occur.
- What specific condition?
- It would have been necessary that you had, in the past, cultivated literary ambitions.
- Of course I cultivated literary ambitions, loads of them! But I gave them up.
- …And that you had kept, maybe, an old manuscript.
- I keep an old, secret novel hidden away, like all of us, I suppose.
- This may change things a lot.
- Really? Well, if it’s true, they will have to change very quickly, as I would have never believed the sentence I'm about to utter could be actually used in real life and meant, literally, what it means outside a movie.
- What sentence?
- I am in deep waters.
- It’s quite normal: you should have left little less than a minute and a half.
- Tell me what to do.
- First of all, tell me something: is it a bad novel?
- Well, bad, if you think I was rather young, making my first attempt…
- So, is it bad or not?
- I don't know.
- Tell me what the novel is about.
- Well, yes, it’s the story of a young man who believes he is different from everyone else, but doesn’t understand if it's because he has gone bonkers or what, and he really feels he has nothing to spare with people his age, until he meets an old man who at the beginning seems even crazier than the young man - and he is, a little bit - and who has left everything behind to set up a sort of self-managed commune in the countryside. People living in the commune are able to do a lot of nice and simple things and activities that in our cities are considered useless, or have disappeared. Our young man not only will find love meeting a girl he would have considered “too normal” before, but also a new way of life.
- As far I can see, there seem to be not just one, but two young and troubled characters.
- Yes, it's true.
- And we also get the “mental-but-wise” behavioural model, who dies in the end, not before having bestowed his valuable life lesson upon us.
- How come you know he is going to die?
- The figure of a grandmother would be more appropriate: the wise and nonconformist granny who teaches you something while kicking the bucket always sells. But I’m telling you: it is bad. So, I think it will be okay.
- What do you mean it will be okay? Or rather, no, don’t explain: just tell me what I have to do.
- Got an envelope?
- Got it.
- Good. Write on the envelope the following.
- Hold on a second: it’s not easy with all this water.
- Don't you have a waterproof felt-tip pen?
- Osh courshe I have a watershroof felt-tip fen.
- Listen, first take that cap out of your mouth, I can’t get a single word.
- I am ready.
- Write: “to the kind attention of the Great Phone Directory of the Earth and neighbouring planets (Jupiter not included), Editors and Production Dept., Milky Way, km 13.480.207.452.213 - Jupiter - Alpha Quadrant”.
- Done. Now? Quickly: there is almost no air left.
- Now take the manuscript, slip it inside the envelope and seal it.
- …
- Is everything all right?
- …
- Hello?
- …
- Tell me, did you manage?
- This is crazy!
- What?
- The water is beginning to flow down.
- You didn’t want to believe me, but I tried to explain it: nobody can outsmart the “Great Phone Directory of the Earth and neighbouring planets (Jupiter not included)”.
- And, so: is that all ? I mean, I am here, waiting to die without even reacting somehow?
- No, well, you are totally free to react in the way you believe it’s more appropriate.
- Would it make any difference ?
- Obviously not.
- But, I’ve said that already, you seem absurdly calm to be the spokesperson of an entire civilization that, within nine minutes...
- Eight, now…
- …of a civilization that within eight minutes will have surely become extinct.
- The thing is, if I showed my anxiety, I would only make the three billion, one hundred sixty-eight million, four hundred thousand eleven, seven hundred and twenty-nine companions here outside the phone booth, waiting for the slightest sign, worry in vain.
- May I make an objection?
- Sure. Besides, we have some time to kill, seven useless minutes.
- Those people have all the right to know that their species is condemned to extinction.
- Believe me, it’s not easy to keep this dumb and grateful smile for hours on my face. But I’ll ask you anyway: would it make any difference?
- Well, if I were told that the human race is doomed and will not live past my generation, there are loads of things I would start and many others I would stop doing.
- Like what?
- Like, for instance, it would be pointless to keep on recycling.
- But I remember you saying you have never recycled.
- Does it matter? I am not talking about me, but of the whole human race: if we didn't know that someone is about to inherit the planet, we would all be free to keep air conditioning at full power, use the car just for a drive around the neighbourhood, or keep all the lights switched on at home. And yes, why not: we could all stop paying our bills and fines. And taxes, too.
- Unfortunately, your outlook on your planet is sadly limited to the human race. As if the Earth, once your species has disappeared, could not become immediately available for a new civilization that intends to live here.
- Yes, but now I know that even if you have regularly purchased it, you are condemned to extinction, and only about forty years later than us.
- Which would mean forty years of carbon oxide you could have spared us if only their lordships here hadn’t had the urgent need to use the car just for a drive around the neighbourhood. But then, in any case, let me remind you that the Terrestrials and the Sednians are not the only species here. The Universe is big enough to make our disappearance go almost unnoticed. Quite simply, on one of the next mornings, a Mermellind or Hoitytoity husband will wake up, drag himself to the kitchen, have a look at the paper before breakfast, and then will tell his wife : “Huh, remember those Jovials and those Terrestrials who live down the road?”. “Yes, what about them?” - she will ask, and he will go: “They have died out last night, all of a sudden”. Can you imagine what will be the wife’s reaction?
- No.
- She will say: “Oh, poor souls: they seemed such nice races! Are you having butter on the polystyrene toast to dunk in your tea, darling?”.
- Well, it's all rather sad, actually.
- You only made a list of things you would stop doing: sad, if anything, is your outlook on the future.
- What can I say, I am becoming extinct.
- Can’t you think of other things you would start, or, simply do now?
- In five minutes?
- Four, to be precise.
- I would like to have sex for the last time.
- You would spend your last four minutes having sex?
- No, you are right: generally three minutes are enough. The last one is for the cigarette.
- You may smoke it, if you want.
- Of course, I could, if I hadn’t water up to the waist: the lighter I had in my pocket is all soaked.
- How would you like to spend your last 240 terrestrial seconds?
- I know I may seem a little importunate, but are you totally sure there is no other way to save my life?
- Would it be of help if I said there is?
- Well, if it was true, well, yes.
- I think it's better if I told you there isn’t.
- But I remember that – I was thinking about it when talking - before illustrating to me the marriage solution, you had clearly stated there were a couple of things we could try.
- So?
- You said “a couple”, but as far as I know we have tried only one.
- Oh.
- “Oh” over here is considered a possibilistic answer.
- Not much.
- In its own way, even “not much”, over here, may be seen as a possibilistic answer. Is there a solution you are hiding from me?
- It's not really a solution.
- Please, don't make me call you names I would have to explain the meaning of: tell me clearly if I have another chance!
- It’s that... you know… with only three minutes left…
- We have only three minutes left only because you have involved me in this pointless pissing about until now!
- We could say it would have been a kind of... creative attempt, if anything. Something that had dawned on me, but that nobody has obviously ever tried.
- I want to know what it is anyway.
- Before even trying, we would have needed a specific condition to occur.
- What specific condition?
- It would have been necessary that you had, in the past, cultivated literary ambitions.
- Of course I cultivated literary ambitions, loads of them! But I gave them up.
- …And that you had kept, maybe, an old manuscript.
- I keep an old, secret novel hidden away, like all of us, I suppose.
- This may change things a lot.
- Really? Well, if it’s true, they will have to change very quickly, as I would have never believed the sentence I'm about to utter could be actually used in real life and meant, literally, what it means outside a movie.
- What sentence?
- I am in deep waters.
- It’s quite normal: you should have left little less than a minute and a half.
- Tell me what to do.
- First of all, tell me something: is it a bad novel?
- Well, bad, if you think I was rather young, making my first attempt…
- So, is it bad or not?
- I don't know.
- Tell me what the novel is about.
- Well, yes, it’s the story of a young man who believes he is different from everyone else, but doesn’t understand if it's because he has gone bonkers or what, and he really feels he has nothing to spare with people his age, until he meets an old man who at the beginning seems even crazier than the young man - and he is, a little bit - and who has left everything behind to set up a sort of self-managed commune in the countryside. People living in the commune are able to do a lot of nice and simple things and activities that in our cities are considered useless, or have disappeared. Our young man not only will find love meeting a girl he would have considered “too normal” before, but also a new way of life.
- As far I can see, there seem to be not just one, but two young and troubled characters.
- Yes, it's true.
- And we also get the “mental-but-wise” behavioural model, who dies in the end, not before having bestowed his valuable life lesson upon us.
- How come you know he is going to die?
- The figure of a grandmother would be more appropriate: the wise and nonconformist granny who teaches you something while kicking the bucket always sells. But I’m telling you: it is bad. So, I think it will be okay.
- What do you mean it will be okay? Or rather, no, don’t explain: just tell me what I have to do.
- Got an envelope?
- Got it.
- Good. Write on the envelope the following.
- Hold on a second: it’s not easy with all this water.
- Don't you have a waterproof felt-tip pen?
- Osh courshe I have a watershroof felt-tip fen.
- Listen, first take that cap out of your mouth, I can’t get a single word.
- I am ready.
- Write: “to the kind attention of the Great Phone Directory of the Earth and neighbouring planets (Jupiter not included), Editors and Production Dept., Milky Way, km 13.480.207.452.213 - Jupiter - Alpha Quadrant”.
- Done. Now? Quickly: there is almost no air left.
- Now take the manuscript, slip it inside the envelope and seal it.
- …
- Is everything all right?
- …
- Hello?
- …
- Tell me, did you manage?
- This is crazy!
- What?
- The water is beginning to flow down.
English translation by Paola Corazza
© 2009 Gianluca Neri - All Rights Reserved
- I believe this is the right moment to say goodbye.
- Are you sure you won’t need him?
- Unless, of course, he is capable of bringing me back to life after the polishmen have killed me.
- I would say we can say goodbye now: τηανκ υοθ φορ εvερυτηινγ, ωε ηαvε μαναγεδ ανυωαυ.
- Το ωηομ σηαλλ ωε αδδρεσσ τηε βιλλ?
- What is he saying?
- He asks to whom he shall address his friend William.
- Who is this William?
- I don’t know. A good friend of his, I suppose. He’s better known as “The Bill”.
- It’s a joke, right?
- No, I really don’t think so.
- Your god gets paid for his services?
- What do you mean “gets paid”?
- He asked to whom the bill shall be addressed: he’s asking for money, can’t you see?
- He is?
- I explained to you what an invoice is only a few hours ago, remember? Well, a bill is the same.
- You are right. Imagine that we had always thought that by asking that question, after a consultation, he just wanted to find a new accommodation for a homeless friend of his.
- But, no: it looks like your god knows very well what money is.
- Are you sure?
- Why exactly are you asking me?
- Well, quite often nasty things happened to people who had consulted him only a few days earlier. We obviously thought it happened because he was upset they hadn’t room for one of his friends.
- Exactly what nasty things happened, tell me...
- A family man I know, for instance, heard the doorbell one day and went to open the door and this Bill attacked him, breaking all his four fingers. And a bloke who works for the Ministry like me was once beaten up more or less in the same way.
- But…no, no... How can I explain...
- Simply tell me.
- That’s not the kind of thing that happens if you don’t have enough space to accommodate one of his friends: this guy showed up because he wanted to get paid, end of story.
- Get paid... for what?
- Not for a service in particular, but to get back - even employing violence - the money that any debtor owes to your god. It’s called “debt collection”.
- You are telling me that our god, of all the races he could extort money from, chose exactly one that doesn’t even know its meaning?
- Apparently. But, there’s something I still don’t get…
- What?
- Even if I decided to pay him - and I have no intention whatsoever of doing it - how could I give him the money if I am in your past, and you are in my future?
- Ι cαν ωαιτ. Τηε ρατε οφ ιντερεστ ισ ηιγηλυ φαvοθραβλε.
- He says he can wait, as long as you are paying him the interests. And he is not wrong, actually. Maybe slowly, at 1x speed, but sooner or later he will have to get here.
- But, in theory, shouldn’t I die within five minutes?
- Yes, you are right, too.
- Sometimes even I can be right.
- Ι ωοθλδ λικε το ηαvε τηατ τεαποτ οφ υοθρσ, τηεν.
- He is saying he would really like to have your teapot.
- My teapot?
- Yes.
- That horrible thing you have dug up?
- That one.
- Το παυ τηε ρεστ, υοθ μαυ cηοοσε α δωαρφ πλανετ.
- He is saying that, to pay the rest, you may choose …
- I've said that already - and I’m telling him again, too - I haven’t got the slightest intention of spending a single penny on this matter. If he does like the teapot, tell him he can have it, and...
- You don’t understand. He said he is having the teapot and, since he knows how valuable it is, he is willing to give you a dwarf planet among those in his possession to make up for the rest of money he owes you.
- Oh.
- A planet of your choice, of course.
- I must admit that, as far as business is concerned, there’s no way to take you in, huh?
- Take my advice, choose one of the trans-Neptunian ones, away from downtown traffic, no smog and no parking problems...
- Yes, all right, but what am I to do with a dwarf planet?
- Who knows? It may be a true investment. You can go there for your holidays, or even rent it if you want.
- I would rather know what will be of my planet.
- The Earth, you mean?
- Huh, yes.
- It is only partly yours, I have already told you. Or better, was only partly yours, because it is ours now. And anyway, you only had a 1.7% at the minus seventeenth share.
- Ok, so you know which planet I’m talking about. That one.
- That one. Well, that’s a totally different story.
- Listen, you know what? All right. Give him the teapot. I’ll have the dwarf planet and let’s end it here. We can now say goodbye, thank him so much and go back to the point: the polishmen and how I’m about to kick the bucket.
- Hold on a second. We must first go through all the formalities. For instance: what shape will you like your planet to come in?
- Why, they are not all round?
- If I'm asking you, it’s obvious they are not. They need to know, as they have run out of the perfectly spherical ones.
- Oh. Then, erm, huh, what can I say… how about egg-shaped? Do you have egg-shaped planets?
- Ovoidal: great. There are two left. The first one must be terraformed.
- What’s that?
- It is currently a tad inhospitable and not ready for the development of a sentient civilization. There is only one species living there, the fartophorous earthworm, and, besides, they are moaning all the time.
- I’d say the other one, then.
- Now I need you to name it.
- Me?
- Unless you like its current name: &erAJ*tH3p.
- Honest, I am deeply intrigued, but I think I’ll choose another one.
- Well. You have 6 terrestrial second to tell me the new name. And remember that, according to our law, the first word you utter will be considered valid: see, it is not by chance that my name is “Bleuuuuurgh!”. Are you ready? Shall I proceed with the customary formula?
- Well, no, can’t really say I’m ready, but, yes, go ahead: let’s see what happens.
- Good. I declare open the naming ceremony for the celestial body called “&erAJ*tH3p”, that is to say ampersand, echo, romeo, alpha, jolly, aster…
- Jolly. Jolly will do.
- Your answer is “JollyJollywilldo”, one word?
- No, just Jolly.
- I don’t think we can accept it.
- But you told me that the first word uttered would be valid. And my first word was “Jolly”.
- Αλλ ριγητ, ασ φαρ ασ Ι’μ cονcερνεδ ωε cαν λετ τηατ πασσ.
- He is saying that he will let it pass this time.
- Thank you.
- Υοθ αρε ωελcομε.
- There is one last thing I need to know, and after that you will officially be the lucky new owner of an exclusive dwarf planet.
- Tell me.
- What colour do you want it?
- Do I also have to choose the colour ?
- Of course: you can have it in all shades available on the market. It means two more days only for delivery: you know, for the paint job.
- Oh. OK. But, erm, just like that, I really don’t know… Blue, can I have it in blue?
- “Jolly Blue”, it’s a deal. I declare the naming procedure of the celestial body once known as “&erAJ*tH3p” officially closed. Congratulations!
- Thank you. Now, if I’m not asking too much, I would like to go back for a moment to the polishmen and to my assassination, can we?
- Oh, well, if that’s all that bothers you, I’m telling you straight away: the polishmen…
- Ι ωοθλδ τακε τηισ οccασιον το σαυ γοοδβυε.
- He takes this occasion to say goodbye.
- Good, I am saying goodbye, too.
- Γοοδβυε!
- What’s with him again?
- He just said “goodbye”.
- Yes, sure, goodbye and all the best. What were you saying?
- I was saying that the polishmen are sealing with silicone all the air intakes so that they can fill up your house with water and make you drown.
- Oh.
- Simple as that.
- But I cannot see water anywhere.
- Are you sure? They must have finished with the silicone by now. You should have water up to your soles. Check again.
- I was wrong.
- See, I knew it.
- There was nothing until two seconds ago.
- Actually, it will all happen quite rapidly: you will notice it won’t take long for the water to reach the ceiling.
- How much time do I have left, approximately?
- Nine, ten minutes.
- Is that all?
- More nine than ten, now.
- Are you sure you won’t need him?
- Unless, of course, he is capable of bringing me back to life after the polishmen have killed me.
- I would say we can say goodbye now: τηανκ υοθ φορ εvερυτηινγ, ωε ηαvε μαναγεδ ανυωαυ.
- Το ωηομ σηαλλ ωε αδδρεσσ τηε βιλλ?
- What is he saying?
- He asks to whom he shall address his friend William.
- Who is this William?
- I don’t know. A good friend of his, I suppose. He’s better known as “The Bill”.
- It’s a joke, right?
- No, I really don’t think so.
- Your god gets paid for his services?
- What do you mean “gets paid”?
- He asked to whom the bill shall be addressed: he’s asking for money, can’t you see?
- He is?
- I explained to you what an invoice is only a few hours ago, remember? Well, a bill is the same.
- You are right. Imagine that we had always thought that by asking that question, after a consultation, he just wanted to find a new accommodation for a homeless friend of his.
- But, no: it looks like your god knows very well what money is.
- Are you sure?
- Why exactly are you asking me?
- Well, quite often nasty things happened to people who had consulted him only a few days earlier. We obviously thought it happened because he was upset they hadn’t room for one of his friends.
- Exactly what nasty things happened, tell me...
- A family man I know, for instance, heard the doorbell one day and went to open the door and this Bill attacked him, breaking all his four fingers. And a bloke who works for the Ministry like me was once beaten up more or less in the same way.
- But…no, no... How can I explain...
- Simply tell me.
- That’s not the kind of thing that happens if you don’t have enough space to accommodate one of his friends: this guy showed up because he wanted to get paid, end of story.
- Get paid... for what?
- Not for a service in particular, but to get back - even employing violence - the money that any debtor owes to your god. It’s called “debt collection”.
- You are telling me that our god, of all the races he could extort money from, chose exactly one that doesn’t even know its meaning?
- Apparently. But, there’s something I still don’t get…
- What?
- Even if I decided to pay him - and I have no intention whatsoever of doing it - how could I give him the money if I am in your past, and you are in my future?
- Ι cαν ωαιτ. Τηε ρατε οφ ιντερεστ ισ ηιγηλυ φαvοθραβλε.
- He says he can wait, as long as you are paying him the interests. And he is not wrong, actually. Maybe slowly, at 1x speed, but sooner or later he will have to get here.
- But, in theory, shouldn’t I die within five minutes?
- Yes, you are right, too.
- Sometimes even I can be right.
- Ι ωοθλδ λικε το ηαvε τηατ τεαποτ οφ υοθρσ, τηεν.
- He is saying he would really like to have your teapot.
- My teapot?
- Yes.
- That horrible thing you have dug up?
- That one.
- Το παυ τηε ρεστ, υοθ μαυ cηοοσε α δωαρφ πλανετ.
- He is saying that, to pay the rest, you may choose …
- I've said that already - and I’m telling him again, too - I haven’t got the slightest intention of spending a single penny on this matter. If he does like the teapot, tell him he can have it, and...
- You don’t understand. He said he is having the teapot and, since he knows how valuable it is, he is willing to give you a dwarf planet among those in his possession to make up for the rest of money he owes you.
- Oh.
- A planet of your choice, of course.
- I must admit that, as far as business is concerned, there’s no way to take you in, huh?
- Take my advice, choose one of the trans-Neptunian ones, away from downtown traffic, no smog and no parking problems...
- Yes, all right, but what am I to do with a dwarf planet?
- Who knows? It may be a true investment. You can go there for your holidays, or even rent it if you want.
- I would rather know what will be of my planet.
- The Earth, you mean?
- Huh, yes.
- It is only partly yours, I have already told you. Or better, was only partly yours, because it is ours now. And anyway, you only had a 1.7% at the minus seventeenth share.
- Ok, so you know which planet I’m talking about. That one.
- That one. Well, that’s a totally different story.
- Listen, you know what? All right. Give him the teapot. I’ll have the dwarf planet and let’s end it here. We can now say goodbye, thank him so much and go back to the point: the polishmen and how I’m about to kick the bucket.
- Hold on a second. We must first go through all the formalities. For instance: what shape will you like your planet to come in?
- Why, they are not all round?
- If I'm asking you, it’s obvious they are not. They need to know, as they have run out of the perfectly spherical ones.
- Oh. Then, erm, huh, what can I say… how about egg-shaped? Do you have egg-shaped planets?
- Ovoidal: great. There are two left. The first one must be terraformed.
- What’s that?
- It is currently a tad inhospitable and not ready for the development of a sentient civilization. There is only one species living there, the fartophorous earthworm, and, besides, they are moaning all the time.
- I’d say the other one, then.
- Now I need you to name it.
- Me?
- Unless you like its current name: &erAJ*tH3p.
- Honest, I am deeply intrigued, but I think I’ll choose another one.
- Well. You have 6 terrestrial second to tell me the new name. And remember that, according to our law, the first word you utter will be considered valid: see, it is not by chance that my name is “Bleuuuuurgh!”. Are you ready? Shall I proceed with the customary formula?
- Well, no, can’t really say I’m ready, but, yes, go ahead: let’s see what happens.
- Good. I declare open the naming ceremony for the celestial body called “&erAJ*tH3p”, that is to say ampersand, echo, romeo, alpha, jolly, aster…
- Jolly. Jolly will do.
- Your answer is “JollyJollywilldo”, one word?
- No, just Jolly.
- I don’t think we can accept it.
- But you told me that the first word uttered would be valid. And my first word was “Jolly”.
- Αλλ ριγητ, ασ φαρ ασ Ι’μ cονcερνεδ ωε cαν λετ τηατ πασσ.
- He is saying that he will let it pass this time.
- Thank you.
- Υοθ αρε ωελcομε.
- There is one last thing I need to know, and after that you will officially be the lucky new owner of an exclusive dwarf planet.
- Tell me.
- What colour do you want it?
- Do I also have to choose the colour ?
- Of course: you can have it in all shades available on the market. It means two more days only for delivery: you know, for the paint job.
- Oh. OK. But, erm, just like that, I really don’t know… Blue, can I have it in blue?
- “Jolly Blue”, it’s a deal. I declare the naming procedure of the celestial body once known as “&erAJ*tH3p” officially closed. Congratulations!
- Thank you. Now, if I’m not asking too much, I would like to go back for a moment to the polishmen and to my assassination, can we?
- Oh, well, if that’s all that bothers you, I’m telling you straight away: the polishmen…
- Ι ωοθλδ τακε τηισ οccασιον το σαυ γοοδβυε.
- He takes this occasion to say goodbye.
- Good, I am saying goodbye, too.
- Γοοδβυε!
- What’s with him again?
- He just said “goodbye”.
- Yes, sure, goodbye and all the best. What were you saying?
- I was saying that the polishmen are sealing with silicone all the air intakes so that they can fill up your house with water and make you drown.
- Oh.
- Simple as that.
- But I cannot see water anywhere.
- Are you sure? They must have finished with the silicone by now. You should have water up to your soles. Check again.
- I was wrong.
- See, I knew it.
- There was nothing until two seconds ago.
- Actually, it will all happen quite rapidly: you will notice it won’t take long for the water to reach the ceiling.
- How much time do I have left, approximately?
- Nine, ten minutes.
- Is that all?
- More nine than ten, now.
English translation by Paola Corazza
© 2009 Gianluca Neri - All Rights Reserved
- You don’t really mean that, do you?
- Believe me, I do.
- You’d rather get killed by the polishmen than give up your platonic love for a waitress who, probably, has never realized you even exist?
- Take that “probably” out.
- Will you please tell me why?
- It’s quite a long story, and I don’t think I have enough time for that. I wasn’t able to explain to you what god is, I have no intention of broaching that love thing now.
- You could try anyway.
- What for?
- What have you got to lose? You have chosen to die anyway, right?
- Right.
- In return, I could reveal to you why the polishmen are sealing with silicone all the air intakes in your house.
- Wouldn’t it be better to make this revelation right now, before embarking in on the rather useless debate you wish to drag me in?
- Sure, it could be better, but you would be so worried about how and when you are going to die that you would not be able to explain to me with due enthusiasm what this blessed love is.
- I must warn you, it’s not a simple matter.
- I am sure it is: we have been trying to figure it out for years.
- And you must promise me that you will make an effort, as far as you can, not to answer back with rational arguments.
- I would be glad to please you, but it’s not in my nature.
- That’s why I said “as far as you can”.
- And that’s why I answered that my “as far as I can” should be intended as “no way”.
- I just can’t help noticing we have started off on the right foot.
- What if I asked you: “Could you stop breathing, as far as you can?”
- What’s the problem with that? I could breathe a little less, or more slowly. Or even voluntarily stop breathing for a handful of minutes.
- You still don’t get my point: I would have asked you to “stop” breathing altogether. Breathing “a little less” would not be enough. The only meaningful answer you could give would be “No, I couldn’t”. And that’s precisely the answer I gave you from the start, if I remember well.
- I am not too sure I feel like taking up this challenge to explain the meaning of love to you.
- Sure, we could stay here in silence, waiting for the end.
- Well, I could hang up and try to fend off the polishmen’s attacks.
- Believe me, it would be totally pointless: you are a goner.
- Are you sure?
- A hundred per cent positive.
- May I know, at least, how exactly I’m going to die?
- I told you before: you must tell me first why you’d rather blow your only chance to survive just to keep on secretly loving a perfect stranger.
- I think my answer would be: because what you’re asking me to do would mean to give up for good all hopes that she may, one day, speak to me.
- It seems important to you.
- It is, really.
- Why?
- We may try starting with the basics, if you like.
- I am all ears. And if you could only see the amount of earwax that is settling on the floor of this phone booth, you would realise it’s not just an idiomatic expression.
- OK. Let’s start from here, then: each one of us needs to find a soul mate.
- Who told you this?
- Nobody. And it’s not written anywhere. It’s just something that most of us have learnt with time and with experience: we won’t feel complete until we have found our other half.
- You are telling me that if I cut you and that waitress in two, I could mix up the pieces at random and, in the end, they would match to perfection anyway?
- No, no, it’s something we just say. It means that, when we are alone, we feel something is missing.
- But, you do check out, in those moments, that your organs are all in the right place?
- Yes, everything is working from a biological point of view, no problem with that.
- So… it’s not only a matter of finding someone who is willing to procreate, just because, otherwise, you would become extinct?
- No. This is what is claimed by many of the religions of the Earth I was mentioning before. But these theories do not stand up, as there are many couples out there who are indisputably happy without having children. Or men who love men, women who are only attracted to other women, people for whom their partner’s gender doesn’t matter that much.
- Now, I really have no intention of playing down the sense of superiority that exudes from your words, but I am really compelled to underline that all this is totally normal throughout the universe. There are civilizations who openly declare their tri-sexuality and nobody bats an eyelid. What I really do not get is the reason why you are so stubbornly looking for a connection between a necessary and automatic biological activity such as sex, and that indefinite feeling you are so vaguely trying to explain.
- Don’t make me say things the average corny crooner would sing about: I didn’t say there is no sex without love. Or rather: they may coexist, but not necessarily. I would say it’s all a matter of taste. Maybe I didn’t make myself clear enough, but you have found the right word: “feeling”. You were telling me about ugly friends before, so I assume that friendship does exist on your planet, right?
- Of course it does!
- So, could you explain to me what this friendship is?
- We become friends with the people of our own kind whom we admire and respect, and who reciprocate those feelings.
- Good. Now, take friendship as you have just described it and place it in an imaginary spot to the left of your visual field...
- Hilarious. May I quote this to my possible descendants as your last joke, or your intention is to tell new ones in the short term?
- No, all right, seriously: love is like an exclusive kind of friendship between two people, and only between them.
- Why two?
- I don’t know why. Probably because if we shared that feeling with a bigger number of people it would seem less exclusive, and therefore less special. Yes, I think that’s the reason why.
- So, it’s just a matter of ranking order? Love comes before friendship?
- I didn’t say that: they are two different things.
- To tell the truth, a short while ago you claimed they are quite similar.
- Yes, they are similar, but also very different, OK?
- Come on, be honest: you have no idea.
- The thing is, I cannot really say what love is, all right? And you know why? Probably because it just can’t be explained. It’s there, it happens, period.
- If I’m not wrong, however, this is the same kind of explanation that – as you were saying only a few hours ago – many terrestrials will settle for in order to demonstrate that god exists.
- ...
- Hello?
- I hate you, you know that?
- Only because I’m asking how can you possibly believe in something you cannot explain?
- No: I hate you because you interpret my words to your liking, and make me say things I am not even thinking.
- Maybe it would be helpful to understand how you feel.
- How I feel… when?
- When you are affected by this... “love”.
- There, “affected”! Without even knowing you have used the right word: love is a bit like an illness.
- An illness you still haven’t found a cure for?
- Finding a cure is the last thing on our minds.
- But why?
- Because we like being in love: we feel good.
- Everything is much clearer now: you feel bad, but also feel good.
- Yes, we suffer like mad but, in those periods, we feel more open to the world. Perhaps even more vulnerable, but undoubtedly more sensitive to many things.
- What things?
- Well… let me think: a smell that suddenly brings to mind a particular past event, a special person, a small gesture. Or listening by accident to a song you had heard on that day, when everything felt perfect, everything seemed to be in the right place. A name. A place. A taste. A face that unexpectedly resurfaces from an old photograph. A detail that made that face special and unique. A house. Or the absence of a person whose presence, once, had filled that very house. A dress on a windy day, and a gust of wind on that dress.
- Oh.
- What do you mean with that “Oh” ?
- With “Oh” I mean that the concept is even less clear than before, but at the same time I have the feeling I have understood something.
- So your “Oh” means you are giving up?
- My “Oh” means I have so many questions to ask that...
- Τηισ λοωε τηινγ ηερε, ασ φαρ ασ ψου κνοω, χαν ιτ βε μοωεδ αρουνδ?
- Who was that...? Huh... He’s still there?
- We may dispute with him over many things, but we really cannot deny that his father has taught him good manners as god intended: he is still here with us because we haven’t dismissed him. Besides, frankly speaking, having god at our disposal during a philosophical conversation may come in handy.
- Doesn’t he know the wedding has been called off?
- Of course he does: as I have repeatedly told you, he understands all we are saying. Maybe he was just interested in the topic.
- And what did he ask?
- “This love thing here, as far as you know, can it be moved around?”
- Believe me, I do.
- You’d rather get killed by the polishmen than give up your platonic love for a waitress who, probably, has never realized you even exist?
- Take that “probably” out.
- Will you please tell me why?
- It’s quite a long story, and I don’t think I have enough time for that. I wasn’t able to explain to you what god is, I have no intention of broaching that love thing now.
- You could try anyway.
- What for?
- What have you got to lose? You have chosen to die anyway, right?
- Right.
- In return, I could reveal to you why the polishmen are sealing with silicone all the air intakes in your house.
- Wouldn’t it be better to make this revelation right now, before embarking in on the rather useless debate you wish to drag me in?
- Sure, it could be better, but you would be so worried about how and when you are going to die that you would not be able to explain to me with due enthusiasm what this blessed love is.
- I must warn you, it’s not a simple matter.
- I am sure it is: we have been trying to figure it out for years.
- And you must promise me that you will make an effort, as far as you can, not to answer back with rational arguments.
- I would be glad to please you, but it’s not in my nature.
- That’s why I said “as far as you can”.
- And that’s why I answered that my “as far as I can” should be intended as “no way”.
- I just can’t help noticing we have started off on the right foot.
- What if I asked you: “Could you stop breathing, as far as you can?”
- What’s the problem with that? I could breathe a little less, or more slowly. Or even voluntarily stop breathing for a handful of minutes.
- You still don’t get my point: I would have asked you to “stop” breathing altogether. Breathing “a little less” would not be enough. The only meaningful answer you could give would be “No, I couldn’t”. And that’s precisely the answer I gave you from the start, if I remember well.
- I am not too sure I feel like taking up this challenge to explain the meaning of love to you.
- Sure, we could stay here in silence, waiting for the end.
- Well, I could hang up and try to fend off the polishmen’s attacks.
- Believe me, it would be totally pointless: you are a goner.
- Are you sure?
- A hundred per cent positive.
- May I know, at least, how exactly I’m going to die?
- I told you before: you must tell me first why you’d rather blow your only chance to survive just to keep on secretly loving a perfect stranger.
- I think my answer would be: because what you’re asking me to do would mean to give up for good all hopes that she may, one day, speak to me.
- It seems important to you.
- It is, really.
- Why?
- We may try starting with the basics, if you like.
- I am all ears. And if you could only see the amount of earwax that is settling on the floor of this phone booth, you would realise it’s not just an idiomatic expression.
- OK. Let’s start from here, then: each one of us needs to find a soul mate.
- Who told you this?
- Nobody. And it’s not written anywhere. It’s just something that most of us have learnt with time and with experience: we won’t feel complete until we have found our other half.
- You are telling me that if I cut you and that waitress in two, I could mix up the pieces at random and, in the end, they would match to perfection anyway?
- No, no, it’s something we just say. It means that, when we are alone, we feel something is missing.
- But, you do check out, in those moments, that your organs are all in the right place?
- Yes, everything is working from a biological point of view, no problem with that.
- So… it’s not only a matter of finding someone who is willing to procreate, just because, otherwise, you would become extinct?
- No. This is what is claimed by many of the religions of the Earth I was mentioning before. But these theories do not stand up, as there are many couples out there who are indisputably happy without having children. Or men who love men, women who are only attracted to other women, people for whom their partner’s gender doesn’t matter that much.
- Now, I really have no intention of playing down the sense of superiority that exudes from your words, but I am really compelled to underline that all this is totally normal throughout the universe. There are civilizations who openly declare their tri-sexuality and nobody bats an eyelid. What I really do not get is the reason why you are so stubbornly looking for a connection between a necessary and automatic biological activity such as sex, and that indefinite feeling you are so vaguely trying to explain.
- Don’t make me say things the average corny crooner would sing about: I didn’t say there is no sex without love. Or rather: they may coexist, but not necessarily. I would say it’s all a matter of taste. Maybe I didn’t make myself clear enough, but you have found the right word: “feeling”. You were telling me about ugly friends before, so I assume that friendship does exist on your planet, right?
- Of course it does!
- So, could you explain to me what this friendship is?
- We become friends with the people of our own kind whom we admire and respect, and who reciprocate those feelings.
- Good. Now, take friendship as you have just described it and place it in an imaginary spot to the left of your visual field...
- Hilarious. May I quote this to my possible descendants as your last joke, or your intention is to tell new ones in the short term?
- No, all right, seriously: love is like an exclusive kind of friendship between two people, and only between them.
- Why two?
- I don’t know why. Probably because if we shared that feeling with a bigger number of people it would seem less exclusive, and therefore less special. Yes, I think that’s the reason why.
- So, it’s just a matter of ranking order? Love comes before friendship?
- I didn’t say that: they are two different things.
- To tell the truth, a short while ago you claimed they are quite similar.
- Yes, they are similar, but also very different, OK?
- Come on, be honest: you have no idea.
- The thing is, I cannot really say what love is, all right? And you know why? Probably because it just can’t be explained. It’s there, it happens, period.
- If I’m not wrong, however, this is the same kind of explanation that – as you were saying only a few hours ago – many terrestrials will settle for in order to demonstrate that god exists.
- ...
- Hello?
- I hate you, you know that?
- Only because I’m asking how can you possibly believe in something you cannot explain?
- No: I hate you because you interpret my words to your liking, and make me say things I am not even thinking.
- Maybe it would be helpful to understand how you feel.
- How I feel… when?
- When you are affected by this... “love”.
- There, “affected”! Without even knowing you have used the right word: love is a bit like an illness.
- An illness you still haven’t found a cure for?
- Finding a cure is the last thing on our minds.
- But why?
- Because we like being in love: we feel good.
- Everything is much clearer now: you feel bad, but also feel good.
- Yes, we suffer like mad but, in those periods, we feel more open to the world. Perhaps even more vulnerable, but undoubtedly more sensitive to many things.
- What things?
- Well… let me think: a smell that suddenly brings to mind a particular past event, a special person, a small gesture. Or listening by accident to a song you had heard on that day, when everything felt perfect, everything seemed to be in the right place. A name. A place. A taste. A face that unexpectedly resurfaces from an old photograph. A detail that made that face special and unique. A house. Or the absence of a person whose presence, once, had filled that very house. A dress on a windy day, and a gust of wind on that dress.
- Oh.
- What do you mean with that “Oh” ?
- With “Oh” I mean that the concept is even less clear than before, but at the same time I have the feeling I have understood something.
- So your “Oh” means you are giving up?
- My “Oh” means I have so many questions to ask that...
- Τηισ λοωε τηινγ ηερε, ασ φαρ ασ ψου κνοω, χαν ιτ βε μοωεδ αρουνδ?
- Who was that...? Huh... He’s still there?
- We may dispute with him over many things, but we really cannot deny that his father has taught him good manners as god intended: he is still here with us because we haven’t dismissed him. Besides, frankly speaking, having god at our disposal during a philosophical conversation may come in handy.
- Doesn’t he know the wedding has been called off?
- Of course he does: as I have repeatedly told you, he understands all we are saying. Maybe he was just interested in the topic.
- And what did he ask?
- “This love thing here, as far as you know, can it be moved around?”
English translation by Paola Corazza
© 2009 Gianluca Neri - All Rights Reserved
The Great Phone Directory of the Earth and neighbouring planets's Notes
Chapter 31Dec 1, 2009
Chapter 30Dec 1, 2009
Chapter 29Nov 30, 2009
Chapter 28Nov 7, 2009
Chapter 27Oct 27, 2009
Chapter 26Sep 5, 2009
If an alien calls (from l'Espresso, August 20th, 2009)Aug 19, 2009
Chapter 25Aug 29, 2009
How to tell an alien about the world (from Wired Italy, August 2009)Jul 26, 2009
Chapter 24Aug 3, 2009