Читать книгу The Complete Men School - Herlander Elias - Страница 6

October 15, 2000

Rafael Sterling is that kind of reporter bored with his job. He knows he can see beyond what the mainstream press allows him to see. He has the habit of walking on the streets always with his headphones on. He has no patience whatsoever towards unnecessary chats and so he optimizes his time. While he is walking, he checks all the things he has to do so far. He is a young man who pays attention to everything that the media presents to him outdoors as for instance on kiosk magazines’ covers outdoor billboards and websites because he know how to cross information. He feels seduced by fashion, and generally by the media. However, the truth is that he has been enduring a hard time to find his place in a society in which nonsense is more notorious than good sense. Once inside his car he kept changing the radio station often until he could find some vibration that would chain him to the world, yet that was hard since nothing seemed to please him. He would never be the kind of person defeated by the world’s proposals. He is the one that always finds better to come up with any proposal whatsoever.

At 10:22 a.m., he arrives at the University to speak with a professor. The post-graduate course he is attending to seems to become boring. Moreover, while he stands waiting by the door of his favorite teacher a newspaper cut comes towards him flying gently to his feet, a ‘divine gift’ cloaked as trash. Rafael grabs the newspaper cut, and as he reads what is written on its back, he realizes that there is another attached news article. This is a new about a group of conspirators. Most of the text is still readable in this piece of newspaper page. It looked like one of those pages that vagabondsuse to cover themselves during the night on dark streets and alleys. The most awkward thing is that the piece of paper flew into Rafael’s direction. Maybe it came stuck to his shoe or to someone’s shoe from the University. Surprised, Rafael started to read it, and without thinking about any motive driving him there (namely speaking to his thesis mentor about a job), he remained there trying to realize who would be the subjects involved in the issue on the news. The news piece did not fit all at once in the cut out he handled, however it was useful enough for him to have a glimpse on the main issue.

Without second thoughts, Rafael headed home and managed to surf the web and search for ‘The Ample Men’, the very subjects mentioned by the journalist that signed the article. It was not too obvious if the case was part of the past, like a ‘cold case’, or if in other turn this alleged group of conspirators was still in the active. The first impression he had, as he stared at the piece of news cut, was to connect the group of conspirators to something heinous as urban terrorism. But, after a while, after reading more thoroughly what the journalist wrote in the article he realized it was all about a city cult, a sort of ‘School’, though it was not much explicit what would be the outcome of their actions.

Rafael fell asleep; his high-fidelity system issued some static interference sounds, but in no way he would wake up more easily. The light of the screen, of all things flashing on the website he was on before he fell asleep cast light flares all across the screen like sudden brightness storms. Rafael was living by himself and he did not seem happy otherwise. Every day, he kept fighting for his autonomy and doing things he really enjoyed. He fell asleep completely dressed from head to toe, at the desk, in the dark. Only the computer screen kept casting light into the corners of his room as long as something changed on the images on the screen. Everywhere there were digital displays and paper stacks piled up with dust on them altogether with boxes of CDs, DVDs, MiniDiscs, and many other folders of photo archives, audio recordings and old movies.

The alarm clock rang. Rafael got out of bed and started moving around immediately. He went to the bathroom to speed up. First, he chose his clothes as someone elects a work of art. Then he took a shower while Duke Elington’s jazz was playing on the computer. At the same time he was listening to it, he began to recall what was in the newspaper cut, mostly what was written there. On the headlines, there was the following title:

“Complete Men – New Urban Cult is Among Us!”

And this expression simply could not get out of his mind. Who were these “Complete Men”?

He got out of the house still puzzled by the news, he went for a coffee and on the street while he was pulling a Davidoff cigarette out from his pocket next to the coffee shop, he actually observed every alleys and shallow backstreets. He kept imagining what these ‘Complete’ ones would be doing there and why. The blurred picture of a group of individuals photographed from afar just could not vanish from his thoughts. It seemed like an Edward Muybridge or Man Ray’s manipulated photography. Rafael was thinking on the characters assembling groups, like priests or diplomatic corps security agents, almost dressed up entirely in black, engaging in dialogue amidst the passers-by, as if nothing transcendent was really going on. These men looked like evildoers, yet they had this pose of government figures and their chins pointed skywards. For sure, they were into major questions. Rafael was in love with the idea, with the phenomenon. He thought loudly when he said: “What a bunch of bastards these ‘Complete’ ones are! I am going to love learning more about you guys”! — And since this day, there was nothing more in his life as free space for anything else except that one related to the reported activists or conspirators of this underworld of aesthetic and glamorous looks. He forgot about college, the undelivered school works and even his affairs… his personal affairs.

The morning was agitated. Rafael could feel the world spinning around him with a unique luminescence, much like the perfect sunshine day crystallized in time. His thoughts induced images based on the news about this urban cult, and as he was so embroiled in his thoughts, a woman who passed by him on the sidewalk pushed him unintentionally. She immediately apologized. As Rafael looked upwards, really up there on top of one building there was a huge advertising poster with the slogan ‘Just Do It’ and below it a cowboy’s duel in black and white, copy pasted from some western spaghetti movie. Rafael said to himself “Well, well, my dear… that is exactly what I am going to do, I am going to do my research on you, firmly. I have never found an issue that makes me look at our current journalism in a serious way. You get ready, for I’m going to discover everything about you guys…”— thought Rafael with a feeling of curiosity so avid as if he wished to join this cult, even before knowing its purpose.

The rain started to fall. Little by little, Rafael was getting soaked in cold water and so he covered his head with his jacket. The day was turning gray and perfect for one of those sessions on the computer while listening to Charlie Parker’s tunes. As he dropped the keys and wallet in the hall table he lit up a cigarette, then he hung his jacket on a stand and grabbed again the newspaper cut. He logged on the computer and got online to start searching for journalist names matching the name signing the news. The journalist that signed the news piece was Roberta Wagner. Half an hour later of online searching, Rafael did by then found the newspaper where she is working, and according to its website he got the office phone number. “Well, well, let’s see what mama tells us… he… he… he…”— he was laughing silently, happy for doing research on something interesting. The only thing boring him was the fact that he did not like too much his newspaper ‘colleagues’. He considered them a bunch of necrophages always tearing apart the lives of the others, evil materialistic snitches. However, he had to engage with them.

— Hello? Good morning, my name is Rafael Sterling, I am a freelance journalist and I write about “Society”. I read an article signed by a journalist of yours, such a Roberta Wagner… it is her name. I would like to contact her. Is it possible? — he said with extreme conviction while he was wandering around the room like an eager tycoon, yet to close a deal. The colorful smile started widening in the corners of his mouth accusing his inner satisfaction.

— Yes, sir, of course. I am going to connect you with our colleague. Hold on a moment, sir? — the receptionist answered the call and reconnected it, but the fact of being standing by on line was getting suffocating, mostly when the audio recording entertaining Rafael displayed a voice saying:

“We keep a commitment with good taste. We will stay here, hold on yourself too!”

Momentously, he was starting to feel more puzzled, intrigued with everything surrounding the characters in the newspaper cut. In an almost obsessed way, it was already happening to him seeing the outlines of men (dressed up as they belonged to the same group of ethnic, social and political orientation) to wherever he looked. Rafael felt attracted to that phenomenon even though, he did not crack it yet. He passed his fingers on his hair, after getting under the rain, staring through a window into the street, when the audio recording was interrupted by a woman’s voice that promptly said: — Well good morning to you, Sir. You are speaking to Roberta Wagner. How may I help you?

— Good morning, my name is Rafael Sterling and I …— he repeated the same old song and Roberta felt curious and fascinated by his perspective on the phenomenon.After all, the newspaper cut did not explain whether the nature of the phenomenon was benign, malign, or neutral, but granted it a suspicious aura. Rafael seduced Roberta Wagner with a so formal and well-built speech that the journalist committed herself on sending him an envelope with all information she had gathered, so far, on the issue.

October 17, 2000

The doorbell rang unstoppably. Rafael hit the alarm clock because he thought it started to ring again at the wrong time. He knew he was not supposed to wake up early in that day, and suddenly he remembered it could be his girlfriend. It was almost a week ago since they have met, mostly at nighttime, usually at her place so they could be together drinking wine and listening to Morelenbaum2/Sakamoto.

Rafael got dressed up and headed for the door, cursing all the way. By the time he opened the door he saw a postman. Apparently, an envelope from Roberta Wagner has just come in with all the good stuff required for him to carry on his investigation. In that moment, that envelope was his life, his quest, the destiny of a lifetime, and the postman was a savior. For a brief instant, Rafael felt like he was awarded with a trophy. He said thanks to the postman who got surprised with a wide-open smile and said farewell while nodding his head.

Already in the room, Rafael tore apart one of the edges of the envelope and took out from its interior a MiniDV format videotape, a MiniDisc audio recording, another newspaper cut out and a note surrounded by black and white photos and yellow stickers. It did not take long for him to turn on his MiniDisc player. He put on the headphones and began to listen to the audio recordings, and in the audio recording a low tone of an adult man’s voice stated: — These recordings have been kept away from the public and the media for too long. It is time to expose this cult, the underworld of the vigilantes of aesthetics rises from the underground heading for the surface. It is good to be aware that this thing exists and that our work pays back. We are not here to please anyone. We are here to change the world. We are among yourselves. The places you guys attend to and your ideas were designed by us.

While trembling with anxiety, fear and curiosity, Rafael lit another cigarette, he changed the music track played by Brian Eno on the background and stared at the window whose light enlightened him. He did not know what to say, yet he knew what to think. After all, that vigilantes’ underground field was pretty odd, but its post-romantic aura left anyone startled. Every manifestation worked out as invitations. “However, invitations for what?”— he thought.

He also started to verify the information on the written notes that were in a notebook, which was mixed with several photographs. In these pictures, black and white pictures, people are mostly in-group, always standing in a very formal way, wearing dark clothes and showing a serious facial expression. Most part seem to be men, many of them wearing similar suits. Rafael stared at the portrayed people and did not understand whether it was on purpose or not, but those people who were in the photos barely could be noticed. It was as if they were blurred, darkened like shapes. The places looked like car garages with lights on, long avenues, cloudy squares and stainless-steel elevators, subterranean car parking lots and glassy malls…

As Rafael put the pieces back together out of the envelope, he tried to outline something, but each new element he discovered seemed to widen even more the universe of these ‘Complete Men’. The photos reminded him some sort of a ‘film noir’ detective movie starring Humphrey Bogart, displaying an atmosphere worthy of a 20^thcentury expressionist theatre play.

It was very nice for him to receive this envelope, yet there were more things to see that Roberta included in the envelope. She herself had received a newspaper cut out by the time she was writing about the issue that had the following message:

“We are after complete students for a humanities school with no place. The candidates must be diplomats interested in helping the next of kin and should benefit from a good mental and physical health. Please contact us: 0800 423 42 44”.

As a matter of fact, the cut out was already pretty damaged. It was an extremely used and handed newspaper cut out. Even so, Rafael managed to read the phone number in the inscription. It was not obviously a news piece, but rather a classified advertisement that Roberta had found somewhere or that someone had sent to her anonymously. By placing these elements altogether, Rafael started to get scared, for every clue pointed out to something typical from a scenario of obscurantism, however his intuition was telling him that this aesthetics vigilante underworld had nothing to do with weapons, prostitution, money laundering, drug traffic or any criminal organization of sorts. The looks were of course suspicious, but merely in the way that the whole thing was mysterious. Post-romantic is the most suitable term.

Rafael called Roberta: —Hello? Roberta?

— Yes… who is this?

— It is Rafael Sterling here, the journalist who asked you about err …

— Oh, I know. Tell me something. — she interrupted him with a sympathetic tone.

— I am calling just to thank you. I fell in love completely with the case, the characters, and the universe that is implied in the phenomenon of the ‘Ample Men’ and …— before he has finished his sentence, Roberta interrupted him again:

— Hmmm… but … please notice that a little bit after the news was published we managed to conclude that the individuals of that subculture were not called ‘Ample Men’. That mention was an error, which we corrected in the meanwhile here in office. Have you managed to watch the videotape I sent to you, in MiniDV format?

— I must confess I have not. But what makes it so special? — Rafael asked while thinking.

— The tape is a recording of one of the persons who attended “The Schools”. Someone must have made a copy of it and sent it to the press. Nonetheless, nobody thought it mattered. I have only managed to write something about it, much as you know I did, right? But after that

we received the videotape in which we learned that these individuals who participated in this subculture were named as ‘Complete Men’. And they even had schools set up, and operations and all that! — said Roberta with the most thrilled and bright tone of voice in the world.

— Oh, that is why in that classified ad in the newspaper piece you sent me there was a mention about ‘Complete Students’ and also to ‘schools’. I see…— Rafael concluded his insight. — Exactly. Now you must examine each and every element, and in a few days you give me a call. Is that ok for you? I am very sorry, but I just cannot continue such kind of research — Roberta ended up with a weight in her stomach.

— Yeah, sure. No problem.— Rafael added.

— In the meantime, I would be pleased if you would inform me about the development of the research. Can it be this way? — asked the journalist arching a smile along with a cigarette just lit up.

— Sure, why not? I am the one who has to thank you!— Rafael said goodbye gently as his gaze turned to the MiniDV player while hanging up the phone. He would not rest until he had listened to all the contents of the tape.

At the same time he was smoking in the balcony, he was also staring at all the awkward characters on his Victorian looking-brick-filled walls… He was dreaming, but he knew that he still had to face up the office in the real world, at least to deliver some texts about music such as some reviews about the latest works of Michael Nyman and Danny Elfman, Solar Fields and Depeche Mode. Of course, that was a piece of cake for Rafael. The weather was getting better, sun shining high, and he had to call his girlfriend Sylvie.

October 18, 2000

Suiting better the jacket, Rafael left Sylvie’s flat and got into a coffee shop to grab a hot cup of coffee. It was too much cold outside and his dark overcoat made him look like an identical character to the Complete Man’s pictures. Rafael only noticed it while he was having coffee in the counter, observing his own reflection in a smudgy vintage mirror over the coffee machine. He purchased a pack of Davidoff gold and left the establishment counting how much change he had in his pockets, where he found a paper where it was written “Do it!”. “Well, well!”— he thought surprised. He kept walking and looked back to the girlfriend flat’s door. He got more and more intrigued with this story of the Complete ones. “But what the hell is this whole thing of Schools for Complete Men? But Complete in what sense?”— Rafael was pulling strings in order to understand the chain links, despite missing some parts.

The elements were communicating with each other but merely video tapes seemed to provide the ultimate explanation. He got home and the first thing he did was to open a window. Then he turned the TV set on and the videotape recorder. He inserted the tape in the MiniDV camera and plugged the whole thing in order to watch the movie on the big screen. The film started entirely in black and white; it was poorly recorded, half-blurred. It looked like it respected the quality standards for propaganda or archive settings demanded by this subculture.

— We do not know why, nor how, but this tape that reached Roberta Wagner’s hands, a noble journalist of our society, actually made her scared and thrilled. But maybe, just maybe she might have missed the message. And there is only one Rafael Sterling…— he thought to himself.