Pokemon Sony Ericsson W910i 2009

Slags / The chronicles of the time it will

Era in ospedale, questo l’aveva capito. Nel corso delle ultime ore (o erano giorni?), nei brevi periodi desti di un lungo dormiveglia se n’era reso conto: l’ambiente asettico, i camici bianchi chini su di lui, il lento sgocciolo delle sacche di medicinali in soluzione. Era in ospedale, ma non ricordava perché fosse lì. Ancora sonnolenza, ancora le palpebre che si chiudono artificialmente.
Poi, dopo un periodo che non poteva misurare, un risveglio meno effimero, la stessa stanza, ma qualcuno accanto. Uno sconosciuto, non la moglie o uno dei sui cari, un uomo che vestiva abiti formali ma che si capiva fosse più a suo agio in mimetica.
«Ben svegliato», the stranger greeted him.
"Do ... where are they?".
"In a private clinic. It has undergone some surgery, but I assure you that it's nothing serious. Soon to be released here in the form as before. He has no idea why you are here? ".
the memory, then returned, vivid images before forgotten. The storage of radioactive waste, which was one of the guards at night, the alarm rings, burglary?, Running the armory and then at the North field, lightning, and the shots ... and what? Nothing, nothing more. The hospital, the unknown ...
"I remember an alarm, storage ...."
"Well. E ' better than other memories, indeed, forget that too.. "
"Who are you?".
"She is permissible to ask, I answer is not granted."
"What you want from me?".
"We want to forget." And say he got up and walked toward the door.
"But then, burglary has taken place ...? They stole something? ".
The stranger, on the verge of leaving the room, turned his head, only his head, "She is permissible to ask, I is not allowed to answer. But, remember this, she is allowed only to ask me. Do not put these questions to anyone else, will hear. And we'll meet again, at that caso. Per l’ultima volta.».

Passò del tempo, qualche mese, qualche anno, forse, e in una notte torrida d’estate, il vicecommissario sfogliava l’incartamento dell’assassina filippina mentre, in sottofondo, il canale news aggiornava le vuote stanze sugli ultimi avvenimenti. La fine della Guerra dei Distretti in Cina, una guerra che aveva provocato, secondo stime ufficiose, almeno dieci milioni di morti, l’inaugurazione di una nuova centrale nucleare sulla costa pugliese. L’Amministratore delegato della società elettrica rispondeva competente alle domande della giornalista, magnificava la potenza e l’assenza di significativi impatti ambientali…
«Commissario…». interrupted the agent
"I am a Deputy, yes?".
"A call, a woman wants to sue the husband who tries to enter the house.."
"The husband? He does not come to your house? ".
"It is a long history, he says. The house is yours, leave it to him ... The husband's father ruin himself on the stock market does not want to let him in because he does not want his property to be taken by creditors of the husband, has applied for separation .... "
"Who is this?".
"I called there ... Sara, Sara ... something."
"Got it. Send someone before they wake up the neighborhood. Recommended a hotel with her husband and a lawyer for both of tomorrow "and returned to his file and the Chief Executive reminded how, thanks to nuclear power, would cut emissions of CO2, which was more than 500ppm now, and he remembered how he had not encountered a single incident in last 30 years, at least since 2020. Nuclear power was good for the environment, and given that alternative sources of energy were all resolved in a soap bubble, also remained the only one. So why environmentalists were against? asked the interviewer. And here the Chief smiled, and suggested how the oil lobbies were powerful and could handle ...
"Commissioner .." this time the agent was out of breath, e preoccupato.
«Vice, sì?»
«Piazza Colonna. Kamikaze imbottito di esplosivo.»
«Ancora? Chiama i cecchini, gli artificieri, andiamo… Fate sgombrare, intanto, cordoni…»
«Commissario… Vice… Non ha solo esplosivo. Dice che è pieno di materiale radioattivo.»

Era in mezzo alla piazza, seduto alla base della Colonna. Stringeva un pulsante tra le mani, qualcosa collegato al detonatore, per provocare un’esplosione qualora un cecchino l’avesse ucciso. Gridava di allontanarsi, di allontanarsi tutti, almeno di 50 metri, gridava che mancavano cinque minuti, poi sarebbe esploso.
«Che dicono i contatori?» – chiese il vice commissario ad un camice bianco.
«Non rilevano radioattività».
« Sarà un bluff?».
«Non ci giurerei, Commissario – non fu ricordato che era solo un vice, non era il momento – Vomita, diarrea. Sintomi di malattia da radiazioni.».
«Ma chi è?».
«Stiamo controllando le foto in archivio».
Il sito delle news aveva intanto trovato qualcosa di più eccitante di una pace in Cina e la notizia del kamikaze radioattivo aveva monopolizzato la rete.
«Maschere» ordinò il Commissario e tutti gli agenti le calarono sul volto.
«Trovato! –era l’Agente che consultava l’archivio - Paretti, George Paretti. Anarchist fighters. '.
"What else?".
"Several arrests, but nothing really serious. Disappeared from the scene last year ... Wait, there's a medical file. "
Meanwhile, a journalist and the site was gone, instead, had appeared in a black hood from which two feverish eyes and excited. An anarchist fighter, he said. He read a statement, the intruders were at the site of the news. Fight the system. Announced the explosion within minutes. If you took away no one would be hurt, the explosive was in small quantities. But the radioactive waste would make life unbearable entire block of downtown for years. Or at least living with masks. The economic and political activities they would have received irreparable damage. And you could see through the narrow slits of the cap, that his eyes were really amused and pleased.
'Cancer, Commissioner. In the last year, he entered and left the hospital. Stomach, very advanced. "
vomit at his feet a dark stain. He was shivering, emaciated face, eyes feverish. He was sweating in an effort to hold down the button on the detonator. And he looked at his watch.
'It is a bluff - insisted the deputy - is not radiation sickness. It 'a poor man sentenced to die anyway'
One minute, he repeated the black hood.
Move away! More! Forms!
telephoto lens of the news sites were focused on anarchist bombers. Marked the second, forty, thirty, his New Year's Eve, the beginning of a new story, the end of its history. Three, two, one, and an explosion scattered around the square flesh and blood and vomit and shit, and smeared the Antonine column, and never the massacres of Germans, representing them, had seemed more realistic and alive.
And then a little cloud rose, white and light, a summer snow that came down from heaven, but rose from a corpse, or what was left of it.
"Forms! - Cried the deputy again - Counters! Detectors. "
"No radioactivity, sir, nothing."
"And the dust?".
A white coat had approached, had picked up the flakes. "It looks like talc, Commissioner."
"Talc?.
"Yes, Commissioner! The suicide bomber was filled with talcum powder. "
cathartic laughter then spread like a wave among the staff of the strings, starting with those nearest and coming, as they brought the news by word of mouth, the most distant. So, while the former have rejoiced, the latter were still worried and fearful, and when they finally began to laugh, had the first already risen masks and gave slapping each other and laughed, and staggered into the laughter and precarious balance on the slippery blood on the asphalt. Someone eventually lost his balance and, without the crowds, even more coarse, cease, human waste fell about celebrating the narrow escape.
The deputy announced the good news to journalists over the cords. Bluff! he repeated, was a bluff! Talc, talcum powder!
"Mission Accomplished," announced in the meantime the black hood.
not true! It is not true at all! It is waving the Deputy Commissioner. It was talcum powder! Only talcum powder.
"Mission accomplished - repeated – A Milano. Quello di Roma era solo un diversivo» e la sua immagine sparì, e ritornò il canale news. Scorrevano in basso le ultime notizie di agenzia: “Esplosione a Milano, via Vittor Pisani, deserta, per l’ora. Non si segnalano feriti. Da prime indiscrezioni si registrano elevati livelli di radioattività.”

Pubblicato su
gli Italiani
Numero 77 di Ucuntu

Ragdoll Patterns Free

The last day of the gift

Non erano più alti dei Terrestri, eppure costruirono il Tempio, questo eterno monumento esteso su due astri, sul Pianeta Sede e sul suo satellite più piccolo chiamato, ormai da millenni, semplicemente Temple. To connect the planet and its satellite, a series of fourteen stations of purification in which the pilgrims departed from at Temple who wish to visit and see, if only for a few moments and immeasurable distances, the Mother Priestess, must stop and raise the spirit and get rid of the dross of life. They were higher than the Earth, and became extinct millions of years ago, but left a legacy to all peoples their religion, which, during the later ages, it absorbed all the others and became, in fact, the uniqueness of 'universe explored, Worship Immense. And, of course, left the Temple, or at least the first unit that was renovated and enlarged million and increased it in the following years until you get to what it is today. They were indeed higher than the Earth, perhaps even a little 'more minutes, but their name is remembered million years after their extinction, and will be remembered as the very life will dwell in the universe.
For many days he had left the fourteenth and last station of purification and now wait for the right private hearing, a rare honor reserved for few, in a room adjoining the hall of gifts. It was an earth and had a chest near him which often turned his eyes, perhaps the absurd fear that someone might take it from there, there. A group of pilgrims waited for some time, reciting the old string of prayer beads and chanting in unison as silent automatons glided on air with hastily composed and diligence. The temple is permeated by technology, and there is nothing from cleaning the enlightenment, the adjustment of the atmosphere that is not centrally directed by synthetic intelligence subjected to incessant mutual control to avoid any kind of mistake. It can happen, but rarely, if that statement is wrong kinds, even in routine minor, that does not compromise the integrity of the system that is maintained for millennia, and has resisted attacks and attacks of all kinds from the most disparate and desperate groups chaotic. An error, however, an insignificant error is generated just as the group of pilgrims were coming to the highest level of the rope, a tiny malfunction in the archive database, a procedure considered in the fifth level, a level for which there are under the more stringent controls. He opened the heavy and enormous doors, without a groan, without apparent effort and approached the chamberlain, surrounded by a group of automatons guardians, who solemnly, but polite, invited to follow the Earth's interior.
The Mother Priestess, tiny and translucent, almost transparent, was at the center of the room to hold large spaceship. It was suspended at a certain height from the floor, supported by invisible forces and delicate. The Earth stopped its carrier at a certain distance from her and knelt down, bringing his hand to his chest, head bowed, waiting, next to the trunk.
"Rise, Earth 'the Priestess asked him, and his voice barely a whisper, was perfectly audible in every corner of the room without echoes. When it was raised, "I say that you are the last of your people. It 's true? "
" Yes, Venerable Mother, it's true. We stayed for a long time for two, but my companion is not for a year. Now I am the last "
" What is your name, Earth? "
"Does it matter, Venerable Mother? Who I will have to stand out now? "
" I understand your bitterness, Earth, as you wish to be named, but yours is not the first people missing. Look at this room, was begun by the hands extinct millions of years. People have lives, as individuals, are born, mature, those longer, some less, but one day die. Other people are born and evolve in their place, according to laws that only knows the Immense. But you know, Earth, do not forget that the immense, neither the people nor the individuals. I know that it will not pay your loss, but I hope consuls your mind. "
" will be done immense, Venerable Mother, but my mind would be exacerbated if I was not less aware that it was the will of the Immense to declare our end as the villainous conduct of our ancestors wretches. "
" I know. I know that humans do not show the immense gratitude for the precious gift of the Earth, and the squandering ungrateful. "
" So it was, the Venerable Mother. And we, pilgrims on other planets, far from our house is now uninhabitable and burning for thousands of years we have cursed the folly of our fathers. For millennia we dreamed of returning to Earth but, as you know, our nation has increasingly narrowed over time. Perhaps unknown elements of our Planet, elements not found in synthetic atmospheres recreated for us elsewhere, have made it increasingly sterile the succeeding generations. As long as we were only two. And now just me, the last of the Earth. "
There was a silence in the great hall, a respectful silence and sharing that was interrupted, his voice gentle, the Mother Priestess.
"I know you have a gift for me, Earth ..."
"Yes, Venerable Mother - the man shook himself from his brief slumber, leaned over the trunk and held it up - Here, the work of countless generations of exiles. All our fortunes, as long as we have been granted, all of our efforts are here, Venerable Mother. We have enclosed in this casket all the knowledge that we have collected over the people of Earth. Not all, indeed, were contemptuous of the idle and careless of the future. We had artists, philosophers, scientists and thinkers. All we have obtained here, translated in major languages \u200b\u200bof the Galaxy, which is stored in cells indestructible crystal Santen, to buy what we donated all our resources. "
" Thank you for your gift, Earth. Did you see them best sons of the fathers. Keep this treasure here in the Temple, in our files, because there is always the memory of your people. "
At the drop of the Priestess, the chest rose and, slipping into the air, was directed to one side of the room where you open a passage leading to the secondary service buildings. Past the wall, the casket went on for a long tunnel, driven and supported by compressed atmosphere, until he reached the inspection station where the archive was registered by cutting pen. It was then that the dysfunction of the insignificant to the overall functioning of the Temple, appeared, creating a difference between the code recorded on the chest and one which should be equal, which is stored in the memory banks of the archive.
"And now, Earth, what do you mean? You can stop here in the Temple, as desired, until the Immense will give you life. "
" Thank you for the offer, the Venerable Mother, but I would rejoin my people, and my companion. "
" How do you prefer, Earth. You will be taken to our rooms sleep and your will see her soon. And it will not be that we shall meet again in the glory of the Immense. It 'good sleep, the brother of Eden, and welcome to the Immense benign. "
The man bowed again and walked, thoughtfully directed and escorted through a multitude of buildings and constructions, one of the rooms to sleep compatible with human physiology. He lay on a comfortable giaciglio e gli vennero proposte immagini e suoni dolci della sua Terra. Immagini che aveva visto innumerevoli volte e che conosceva a memoria, e che raccontavano un mondo che non aveva mai visto.
Lo scrigno, mentre scorrevano nella mente del Terrestre visioni di tramonti su coste intatte, fu diretto non verso il cunicolo ad esso destinato dal codice memorizzato dai banchi ma, passando attraverso gli innumerevoli rilevatori che verificavano il codice che recava inciso, terminò la sua lunga corsa in una collocazione assai differente da quella stabilita in origine. Non era infatti, come previsto, collocato a fianco dell’estinto popolo dei fiori poeti di Stara, ma vicino a quello dei mai rimpianti vermi cannibali di Durti, in un angolo dell’archivio where no one, for all who seek a long time, could never admit, even a hypothetical student of paleontology that might arise, in the ensuing millennia, the desire to do some research on the dead planet Earth and its ancient inhabitants.
A vial of sedative had been gently injected into the veins of Earth, a prelude to a peaceful sleeping pill which then would be followed by a lethal substance that quickly and gently, he would have brought among his. The reflections were not ready, the advance of sleeping pills in her body, and is dreaming of the sea and the waves that slowly, very slowly, seempre piùù leentaameeente accaaarezzaaavaanooo laaa ... spiaaaaa

Published on:
the Italians
Number 78 Ucuntu