8.
The corpses of the Whip were hundreds. Was it a very strong experience, that harshly put in discussion my same humanity; me, that was made of iron, to comparison with that whole undone meat, affected or simply wound, with that acute suffering for me now only pale memory. as The coulds keep on defining me hand?
I had transported about ten bodies to the outside, with an increasing uneasiness; then something in my mechanisms was clogged and I had begun to move me with difficulty; I knew that there were no damages of some type, but my corpaccio refused to obey me.
The matter was simply too penosa.
I had to find the system to give help in other way: I employed me to open new breaches, and it was the correct choice. I started over nimbly moving me and says ease to more rescuers to access the environments disastrati.
I also saw beautiful things, however: the appointment of professionals and volunteers and a lot of solidarities from the whole citizen. And not only: also the near cities, with which we usually entertained some political relationships cool of it, deprecarono what seemed certain being a merciless attack; they sent even us some helps. Even New Delon, city our sister and commercial avversaria for a long time it condemned the event showing us liking.
I had, unfortunately, also a moment of celebrity: some damned journalist had wandered among the rubbles to his/her piacer and you/he/she had seen as I hoped. The day later one photo of mine appeared (very bad, luckily) on the web and to the TV and an article (excellent, for adversity) that he/she spoke of me and of my life. The journalist had dug with adroitness in the database of the university and the hospital, but at least you/he/she had had the good taste to give a great deal a secondary importance to the thing in comparison to the human tragedy of the Whip.
For a few days people greeted me passing nearby me, but my indifference and the ostracism of physicians and interviewed relatives discouraged whoever.
In head twos weeks all still knew about me, but they considered only probably me an eccentricity of the scientific search of which the punishment was not worth to speak anymore.
Everything returned as it was before.
But me, in some way, I was changed. I felt inside of me a new push, lower case letter to the beginning, that few to few magnified and it became an obsession. I was a man. I felt me man, even if I didn't seem him/it. I was as that people that I had saved, as the wounded girl, that would have been able to be my daughter. Until then I had been anesthetized by my hostility towards my old human nature, rancoroso toward what in past you/he/she had betrayed me and too much in conflict with my mechanical monumentality. I accepted by circumstance my paternity: Daylight was a state of fact, and I was proud of it. I was also grandfather, fantastic thing also that. But as man thing other I was? Did I end there, in the descendants of mine old genetics, or did something stay me more? They were things which taken to think a lot.
For how much I constantly improved in my performances and in the acceptance of what I was, there were always some black days, in which these questions produced pure pain. Days when I would have liked to undo what the science you/he/she had put together miraculously. I was a man, even if without body; a man with his/her needs and his/her weakness. With the desire to be approved, for example, or to be considered interesting for that that I was inside or, more simply, normal. From how much a woman didn't look me in a certain way? That light emotion missed me that could feel once in the voice of a stranger that stopped me for an information; without second ends, certain, but recognizing, with that emotional trembling of his, with that pinch of timidity, my status of male potentiality. I don't allude to the sex. Also that missed me, naturally; but it was rather what was you around to make himself/herself/themselves feel for his/her absence. That sense of anticipation missed when you are together with the other, the appearance of a possible promise, the delicious sense of your brittleness and other people's; because the people story evil you/they can be done, but also well. Where was it, my good? In that days, in which all of my oppressive desire of tenderness fought for exploding and my good cynicism didn't prevail, I felt a big need to discharge me. And then I remembered to have a body to do him/it. I could not get tired as the biological beings but I could weaken my mind: in that moments I raced.
The first time that I did him/it I wanted only to get further me from New Sealon and from everything that that there was. I taken to walk along the road that left the city for the countries without a precise destination; but to walk enjoying me the nature was not enough, that day. I had had an attack of scorching and unexpected panic, to the laboratory: an undue intervention of Vladi on my hardware, a small inaccuracy of too much, and the brain had protested to his/her way. My body had started to wave everywhere rattling as an old coffeepot. Vladi had immediately understood and you/he/she was done pale; him I didn't want of it, but I didn't succeed in telling him him. It was too much hard. They wanted us you are technical to position me on the bunk and to allow Vladi to make up for to the error. I stopped gradually trembling and I taken back the control of me. I was exhausted.
Vladi was dismayed; I beat on his shoulder and I went out of the laboratory in hurry to hide the anger. The excuses of Vladi pursued me over the door.
I didn't have him with him, naturally, but with me, with that that I was. I got further me with the confused mind and the earth humor, avoiding the passer-bys the more possible. I casually took the road for the sea, only because it seemed the less frequented. Gone out of the city, I started to feel better me, the sense of prostration that followed the attack of panic had passed, by now; the anger stayed only. I began to race. At first to distract me, for that sense of self-defence that had taught me to hold occupied the mind in the difficult moments; then notaries that the motion also worked as I discharge, just as when I was a true human being. What pits psychological heritage of the past or a reality benefit I don't know him/it, but to put me to hard test made the most bearable things. I put me to side of the road, on the inerbito, and I started to give me to do of ugly; soon the limbs sabred the air hissing strong, the feet they lifted discreet sod. I reached such a speed to easily overcome the rare autos that crossed the wide road; I passed nearby them, often attracting the attention surprised of driver and passengers. A child opened wide the mouth, stretched out in his/her seat, grasping a biscuit semisciolto in the lifted manina; he greeted me laughing. I also greeted him/it I, accelerated then. The auto remained back while the sea, there before, meeting rushed me.
I left road and lawns for the sand, I taken to race on the waterline lifting dust clouds and tall spray: it was fantastic to have that power.
Someone was to laze around on the battigia, a solitary coppietta: I jumped her/it of quite a lot meters and ever concerned not sinking as. Hands and braccia collaborated and I jumped out of the hole with an enormous leap, without the walk.
That boys had remained without words.
I accelerated anchor, beyond the prudence, sideways skidding as a crazy person. I entered too much the water and I lifted a column of foam of ten meters; I covered me with droplets that shone to the sun of the late afternoon. I saw in distance that the beach ended up leaving space to the bluff. I came there shortly, feeling me as a truck driver that has been driving to his maximum for times: tired, even if without a crumb of sweat. I jumped on the first rock landing you with a satisfactory screeching; I jumped per second from the first one, from the second to the third one, and so street, trying not to slow down. I didn't race, I jumped.
The bluff began to make himself/herself/themselves more imposing; between a rock and the other, under of me, the sea did him capricious and insolent. Waves broke him at the base of the rocks, blustering dark.
The squirts got up tall, sometimes reaching me.
I continued my run, jumping from a point to the other, until not inclusive, late, that was taking advantage of my fortune. With the speed and the sticky fund of the rocks it was only matter of time, and in fact it happened: I slipped, losing the
balance. I jumped in the wrong direction, toward the wrong rock, but I reacted well: I crouched me and I absorbed the impact with the four arts, I went off back then to the as a rubber band. I drew in the air a soft arc and to the appearance slow: in reality I was me that my receptive functions I had pushed at the most gathering so so many details of the surrounding zone that when I fell to the ground I exactly knew thing to do. I tilted me of side to change direction toward a precise destination. And there I committed the my according to error. I could not imagine that striking the scabrous surface with the feet tilted that would have surrendered: I produced so many pebbles and some moist powder. I leaned the hand to raise again me but it was too late. I came slipping and screeching at the end of the rock, and then in the void. I fell for seven or eight meters, then I bumped the rock of forehead, a great deal lower, and I fell in the water dipping me up to the basin. I remained for some second immovable property, fixture with the feet in the sand of the invisible fund.
«Iuuuuuuuu!» I howled, with the maximum one of the volume.
The cry bounced among the rocks and escaped away toward the sea.
You/he/she had been fantastic.
I was about ten minutes looking around me there. I felt me free, a different feeling. It had to be so that the wolves caracollandos were felt in the most lost heaths. Terrorizzante. Magnificent.
I returned on using the hands as scaling hooks. It was easy. I estranged me from the bluff galloping as a happy colt. The road cooperated I and I taken the direction for the return. It was all right, now, as I/you was freed me of a weight.
I increased the walk without risking too much.
I placed side by side at first a car of the police and the man to the steering wheel it didn't notice me; we made hundred tiled meters, then the police officer distractedly turned him and strabuzzò the eyes. I had to make him a beautiful effect: we traveled to about eighty kilometers the time and my legs they drew ample and precise falcades on the adjacent to lawn the road. I saw the guy that fixing always spoke in a low voice me to the radio; then I saw him/it relax himself/herself/themselves. I noticed his/her facial muscles to stretch him, even if of a nothing. You/he/she would not have been able to appreciate him/it any other, but my sight was assembled on every wrinkle of his, every pore and pelucchio.
The man deposed the radio and smiled at me. He/she knew who was, now. I made a sign with his hand, and that quietly responded me. I had of it enough: I accelerated to the great one, had a good time, observing from the nape the expression of the agent while I was sowing his/her inadequate vehicle. I snickered to my way thinking that the last thing that he/she saw of me, before I disappeared to the horizon, they were my steel chiappones.