Читать книгу Synchro - José Miguel Sánchez Guitian - Страница 6
Оглавление2. Ten
It is a natural number, composite and defective; it is also the basis for counting in many cultures, since it is the result of the sum of all fingers. In Roman numbering, it is presented with an x, in Chinese with a +, and in Mayan with an =. October is the tenth month.
“I told you that this was the best place for Synchro”. Carlo Stamas stood in the middle of the hangar, hand on his hips. “This is awesome”.
They were in the interior of a white industrial unit where groups of operators worked without rest conditioning and assembling robotic structures. A high technology center in the making.
Three operators in white lab coats and gloves, supervised the construction of a track where transport carts would run. All the boxes would be placed in automatized carts that were currently being tested, coming in and out of a door that opened whenever it detected movement. There was little need for human presence for all of that to work. A large group moved tables and computers into a space with wide windows; others supervised the setting up of a conveyor belt that would link the manufacture of the black pills with the drones’ hangar.
Julian and Anthony gazed in wonder at the immense unit that would soon buzz with activity; there were seemingly endless rows of biotechnology printers to make the tiny black balls, and enough delivery drones to cover the whole of Mexico City. Julian moved his hand impulsively and repeated his round of tics.
Carlo had personally taken up the task of finding and conditioning the old garage for interurban buses that was now being converted into offices, a factory, a warehouse and a delivery area for the new sensation in venture capital; all in record time. The money, four hundred million dollars had worked the miracle; the production would not begin until the following week but they already counted with over one hundred thousand orders from people ready to try it, and they had all already paid in advance the two hundred pesos for the download of the app and a pack of three black balls with their corresponding microchips. Synchro had already deposited its first million dollars in the bank.
The predictions that Julián Konks had presented to Nassar Capital were of seven hundred million sales within a year, with a benefit of one hundred million dollars in Mexico alone. When he showed the sum of the global benefit, the number contained nine zeros. Nobody, except Carlo Stamas, smiled at the news.
“This is our dream… Technology is going to make us rich. Orders are coming in by the thousand…” Carlo was thrilled.
Julián gazed at the autonomous carts that ran empty up and down the hangar. Close to one hundred drones waited for the take-off. Among them, a dozen operators in white lab coats followed instructions on their tablets. The company’s new CEO smiled, and when he walked past Carlo he punched him tenderly on the shoulder.
“I told you this would happen, see? And you didn’t believe us”.
“Sure, yes, and now you can beat me up if you’d like to; do whatever you want with me…” Carlo laughed. “We are meeting all our deadlines and investments”.
“Now it’s time to get this monster to work”, said Anthony and, looking at Stamas, added, “I like it, Carlo. Good job!”
Carlo Stamas checked his phone.
“We have a meeting in an hour with the chief attorney and the lawyers”, he said, and nodded at the door. “We don’t want any trouble with the State’s laws”.
Julián lifted both hands, showing his palms:
“I’m going to skip this one, if you don’t mind. I have a very important date”, he said, distractedly.
“What? What the hell, Julián, this is more important than anything else you might have right now”, said Anthony, raising his voice.
“You go, you’ll do fine without me, and, anyway, Nassar’s lawyers are going to be there to defend our best interests”.
“I don’t like it, Julián, I don’t like you dropping out now; we’re both in this thing together”. He looked annoyed.
“Don’t be an idiot, Anthony, I’m not dropping out from anything; we’ve been stuck in a room for a year, not even leaving our chairs to take a fucking dump. For once, I have a date and it clashes with a politics meeting. It’s not that big of a deal, so don’t get all worked up…”
“A date?... And I’m the idiot?” Anthony took his hands to his head. “I don’t want you to become a jerk. This has only just started and you’re already behaving like this…”
“Well, boys this argument really isn’t worth it, calm down”. Carlo did not want their heated argument to escalate. “Let’s keep calm. Come on, look at this whole thing!” He opened his arms and said, “this is fucking awesome and there’s still more to come! This is only a first step on the path”.
Still angry, Anthony Somoza shook his head disapprovingly.
“I’m sure it’s that Ana who you’ve been going on about for the last couple of weeks”, said Anthony, not wanting to drop the topic. “It’s pathetic!”
“Ana Riccoli? The blonde from Troposintesis, the organic creams business?” Carlo looked surprised at the mention of the name, it had not even been a week since he last had sex with her. They were both gym lions in full swing. Nothing serious, only physical and without emotional exchanges beyond the superfluous; only sex and a few lines of coke. The last time had been when that mad policeman pushed him to the ground and stepped on the black pills. Later, at dinner, he and Ana had only exchanged a few words, some polite conversation about the projects that they were involved in. Carlo told her about Synchro, the four hundred million dollars and about Julián and Anthony. Now, that giant-killer blondie was going to make good use of all that information and of the promise of a multimillionaire in the making. This Ana truly knew what she was doing. He scratched his head, thoughtfully.
“Do you know her?” asked Julián.
“A little”, said Carlo, not wanting to get into details.
“Yes, she’s that deceptive blondie with the amazing pair of tits.’ Anthony carried on with his verbal attack.
Julián had bumped into Ana Riccoli several times at the Mex Tec and she had tried to approach him with banal excuses such as: ‘I love your t-shirt’, when he had been wearing a Real Madrid t-shirt, with his name and a number ten printed at the back. Julián, who had noticed her before, had always considered her to be completely out of his league, until that very moment. She was the one who had proposed dinner in the Las Lomas area.
“And why do you care if it’s her?” said Julián, clenching his fists. “You aren’t my father or my girlfriend, for fuck’s sake”. He waved his hands at him in a mocking girly gesture. “You are behaving like a girl in the middle of a hysteric attack”.
“Fuck you, Julián!”
“No. Fuck you, darky”.
“What did you just call me?” His face was now inches away from his colleague’s. “Did you just call me darky? You’re racist scum, Julián”.
Carlo pushed them apart to avoid the fight.
“Hey! Heeey! Calm down… you can’t go on like this. Let’s relax and enjoy our success”.
“I’m going to leave now… I’ll see you at the office tomorrow and you can tell me how the meeting went”, said Julián.
“Remember your last prophecy! It seems like you were right again, you Nostradamus piece of shit”.
Julián left without another word.
“Prophecy? Nostradamus?”
“Doesn’t matter. Just something we say”.
Carlo tried to calm Anthony, who was still scowling and murmuring insults.
He ignored that Anthony was, in fact, in love with Julián; he had always been, ever since he had met him and had hidden the feeling from everyone, even from himself. For him, being by his side was enough; they worked together, lived together, spent twenty-four hours a day together. He had never spoken about it with his friend; he kept his feelings to himself. Anthony Somoza had never admitted his homosexuality. His siblings, with that fifth sense that children have, used to say it when they were just kids, and used the word insultingly: fag. Bothered by those comments, he found refuge in his studies and later in computers; they opened a door through which he could escape to communities that understood him; there, he would practice virtual sex in the intimacy of his screen. That was it. And now that Julián was going on a date with a top girl, Anthony felt jealous.
“Guys lose their minds over tits, you know that”, said Carlo as he clapped the programmer on the back.
Julián arrived at the restaurant almost at the same time as Ana, who came in an Uber. He was driving a small Chevrolet Onix that his parents had given him as a gift six years ago. She looked with surprise at the utilitarian car and he felt it was high time he bought himself a new vehicle. What’s more, now that he was going to earn a yearly salary of more than six zeros, seven with bonuses, he could afford to buy a luxury sports car just for show, an airplane even; the future held no limits. The valet took his utilitarian car and parked it as far from the door as was possible.
Julián stared at Ana, her extremely short dress, colorful, with an impressive cleavage, and six inches of high heels that revealed a body that worked out in the gym. He swallowed hard. He was wearing the Real Madrid t-shirt that she had liked so much when they first met.
As they walked in, she took hold of his hand. Julián realized that his companion attracted people’s attention, and that many looked at him with envy. At the table, they chose some salads and Ana ordered champagne to accompany them. ‘Anything she wants’, thought the new multimillionaire.
“So, tell me, Julián, what do you guys do at Synchro?” asked Ana with interest.
“Nothing, the idea is very simple…” Julián spotted a tiny mole on Ana’s chest. “Have you ever heard the term ‘synapsis’?”
“No, never. My thing is organic creams. But, I love all that stuff, it really turns me on…” Ana looked at him in the eyes and he responded with a long gulp of champagne. He took his thumb to his mouth, gave his hair a tug and pulled at his earlobe. He had reason to be nervous.
“I’ll explain; it’s the way in which hormones communicate. This communication takes place through the transmission of nervous impulses from one to the other; it’s the way they talk, with small shocks… but, once this nervous impulse reaches the hormone, it generates a type of chemical component, which is what they call neurotransmitters, these are the ones in charge of making us feel turned on, for example”.
Ana’s eyes continued fixed on him while he spoke.
“Incredible…”
“What we are doing at Synchro is tricking people’s brains with electric impulses to create controlled sensations”.
“Amazing!” she exclaimed, taking her hand to her cleavage.
Julián’s eyes followed her hands and paused there; with great effort, he lifted his gaze to meet the eyes of this woman who was completely out of his league.
“Scientists have found that an adult brain has around one hundred million neurons; each is in charge of processing its own information which it then sends to the others, receiving information from them in return. Every neuron may connect with another fifty thousand. Us, Anthony and I, have discovered mass synapsis and how to stimulate it with very low-intensity electric impulses.
“Can it provoke an orgasm?”
The woman at the table next to theirs moved her head slightly, pointing her ear in their direction, without looking; her neighbors’ conversation was way more interesting than the story her husband was telling her about a colleague at work.
“Yes, it’s easy, when you ingest a Synchro microchip what happens is that your neuronal system becomes dependent of those micro-impulses. Our brain is a computer that controls all our functions, and our nervous system is its network, sending information in both directions, from the brain to the different body parts. That’s where our chips come in, becoming the king of neuronal communications … They do so through the spinal cord, which, starting at the brain, runs down our backs”. As Julián spoke, he pictured Ana naked. “It contains nerves with the shape of filaments that branch out towards the other organs and parts of the body. But I don’t want to bore you with all this theory”.
“Julián, provoking an orgasm isn’t boring; I am very, very interested, both in the theory part and the practice”.
Ana was unleashing her full skills in the art of seduction and Julián, flattered, carried on talking.
“Well then, when a message originated at any part of the body reaches the brain, it tells the whole body or a part of it, how it must react. If you program the feeling and the App sends a stimulus in the shape of a wave that provokes an electric shock of a certain intensity… well, that’s how you provoke an org…”
“And is that just one, or could it be many?”
“They can be as many as you wish to have”, he replied timidly, and feeling a little awkward, added, “and if we both connect we could even feel the same thing simultaneously”.
“That would be fabulous. I can’t wait to try your invention and get synchronized with you”.
“That would be nice…”
Julián was about to start a new sequence of tics, but caught himself just as he was bringing his thumb to his mouth and stopped.
The woman on the neighboring table was sitting on the edge of her seat, nodding at her husband, who continued with his monologue about the trouble he was having with his colleague. Meanwhile, she was thinking about how much she would like to try that invention.
***
At State Attorney Eduardo Aster’s office ten people sat discussing the report on the Synchro case.
“At a preliminary hearing, we can’t prohibit something that does not contain any narcotic substances, or has no harmful effects for public health. According to the experts’ report we could call it a technological drug, since its effects are indeed narcotic, but if we ban them, it would be like banning video-games or Google’s search engine.
Another lawyer holding the open dossier pointed out that:
“On the report presented by the independent medical team, it confirms that it is addictive and of easy economic and technical access. It’s as easy as downloading an app, placing an order, paying and receiving it via drone”.
Carlo, who was taking notes at the other side of the assembly table, said:
“Its price is for every budget. You can enjoy it alone or share it with whoever you like. If you wish to, in the app you can synchronize a group to feel the same pleasurable sensations… there are more than twenty-five possible modes. I guarantee that it will suit any kind of fantasies… I have tri…”
The lawyer interrupted him, returning to his own speech:
“We would like to point out what we consider to be most problematic. The preliminary results do not show the presence of toxic substances or any side effects on the users tested”.
Carlo tried to bring the attention back to himself:
“The only positive effect would be its regulation and the taxes that it would earn the government if it was legalized. All these are positive side effects for our society”.
“Mr. Stamas, please don’t add external elements to this conversation; this is a meeting to decide over the legality of the launch”, Aster underlined. “We have no reason to believe it a risk for human health. Since marijuana’s legalization, we have not faced a challenge of this sort… We have spoken to sources close to the president and we are ready to provisionally accept its legalization… but we will keep track of its social evolution and its effects on public health”.
Anthony Somoza stood up to speak and shot a quick, meaningful look at Carlo indicating him to stay silent:
“Thank you, Mr. Aster, for the trust you have placed on us; we are certain that projects such as Synchro will also become useful in the struggle to clean the city’s streets of drugs”.
“May God hear you, boy, may He hear you”.
***
Cristina drove an expensive, high-end car while Álvaro Guzmán watched the sunset through the window. They had dressed up elegantly, at the expense of the department’s budget. They had to infiltrate and send the signal for intervention to the units that were waiting under cover.
“How’s your new place?”
“Good, it’s kind of small but that’s what I was looking for”.
She lied. She hated herself for abandoning the place that held the memories of her son. The house had been full of them and their loss tangled with the feeling of his absence. Her eyes, immersed in a dense fog, hardly managed to hide the nightmare that she had experienced in the last couple of months.
“What about you? How are you feeling?”
“Good, considering that the whole Police department is listening into our conversation”. Cristina brought her hand to her ear.
That was another lie; she did not have a life outside the office doors, not with all the crying and the fog that permeated everything. In every corner, she found a reason to drop it all and welcome death. Only two nights ago, she had undressed and lowered herself into the bathtub. She had kept her underwear on; if she died, she didn’t want to be found completely naked. She had stared at the cutter for a long time, its open blade pointing defiantly at the edge of the full and warm bathtub. She had pictured cutting her own wrists, dropping her arms in the water and bleeding to death, just like falling asleep. She had not done it; the sound of some children in the street dragged her out of the fog and she had noticed that the water had grown cold.
Guzmán touched his right ear to check that his earpiece was placed correctly. He wasn’t very sure that having Cristina in the firing line was such a great idea. Something about her eyes told him that beneath the calm appearance, that woman was gun powder threatening to explode at any second. She was his friend, but she had not recovered yet.
“Can you hear us?” checked Guzmán.
“Yes, we can hear you loud and clear”. TJ was following the signal from an undercover van from the company Spectrum, only a few houses away from the objective.
“I expect it will be a fun night for all of us”.
Inside the van were four agents, all eyes were fixed on the monitors transmitting the cameras’ signals and the sound of the agents in the other car. TJ was among them, a recycled computer technician and technology expert that had ended up in the police force; behind him, wearing headphones and a mic, stood commissioner García, in charge of the operation:
“Be very careful over there. We are ready”. The commissioner watched the car’s radar as it approached the map’s central point.
Cristina, who, that very morning, had banged her hand on the commissioner’s desk, nodded dutifully. She had not wanted to be left out of the operation and made her opinion clear with shouts:
“If you’d like to kick me out for being unwell, fucking do it, but I’m going to continue being unwell at home and this is the only thing I’ve got; and if I’m going to stay, then I want to participate in the same way I did before the death of Lucas”.
To which the commissioner replied:
“OK, lieutenant Herrera, dress up fancy and prepare for tonight. But I want you to go through a psychological evaluation tomorrow, understood?”
Cristina had left without giving any signs of agreement.
Guzmán watched his colleague out of the corner of his eye.
“Let the show begin”, he said theatrically looking at the trees they had to their sides and the sea beyond. “If I weren’t on duty, I would have a smoke right now”.
Cristina and Álvaro’s car drove past a piece of open ground where three camouflaged police assault vehicles waited ready to intervene; each car had four agents dressed in black, completely armed and ready to go.
The car with the two dressed up agents drove through the entrance gates; they were arriving at a mansion of colonial style at the top of the Jardines de la Montaña.
“Well… the party is about to start”, said Álvaro. “How are you feeling? Ready?”
Cristina looked at her reflection on the rear window and saw the fog in her eyes.
“Yes, and that’s the third time you’ve asked me in the last ten minutes. What’s up?”
“Being at your level is tough. I’m worried of looking like an old perv with a girl that’s way too young for me”.
The commissioner, from the camouflaged van:
“Álvaro, you don’t look bad at all at your… what is it, fifties, fifty-something…?”
“It’s no secret that I’m fifty-five and have a daughter who’s a youtuber”.
Cristina laughed. It had been months since she had last laughed; only Guzmán had that sense of humor that was capable of opening cracks of hope in the middle of her fog.
The intervention had been planned that very morning. They received a tip about a drug shipment that would be delivered at the luxurious mansion during the party. Cristina thought it strange; in these cases, the operations were usually simple, they arrested the drug dealers as they entered or left the party, end of story. What they were about to do was going to make a lot of noise and would set to work the whole of the Police judicial machinery during the following days. The rich people living in these mansions had many resources and had contacts high up.
From the undercover van, commissioner García intervened:
“Actually, you look like a very congenial couple”.
“Right? I keep telling her… Cristina, I’m the department’s most desired bachelor, don’t miss your chance”.
Cristina smiled again as she stepped out of the car assisted by a valet that was holding the door open for her.
For a moment, she stood still. It was her son Lucas who was holding the door to help her step out.
Guzmán saw his colleague’s expression and knew that something was wrong, he offered his arm and told her:
“Our department is a nest of gossips”.
Inspectors Herrera and Guzmán were entering the welcome marquee that had been installed for the party; three security people examined the guests’ credentials at the entrance. Everyone had to walk through the metal detector arch. In a corner, a woman with short, blonde hair supervised the security check operation; her grey coat could not hide the bulk of a gun on her side. Next to her, hung a ‘gun-free party’ sign, the new trend among the cosmopolitan and eccentric: the picture of a gun with a cross on it emphasized the ban to carry weapons into certain events.
Guzmán stopped on his tracks and stepped intentionally on Cristina’s foot, who looked angrily at him. He pointed forward with his chin.
“OK, we have a small problem. There is a security control right ahead of us and a metal detector. Nobody mentioned there would be anything of the sort”.
“If we leave our weapons, everyone is going to notice us”.
Cristina bent down understanding the reasoning behind Guzman’s comment. They were both carrying guns and badges, Álvaro had them on his ankle and she on her thigh. She looked ahead and noticed the blonde woman gazing at them.
“Do we have access to the power supply panel of this area?” asked Guzmán, looking at his companion to prevent any lip reading.
Inside the van, agent TJ looked at the three screens that controlled the access cameras. He started to search for the power supply filters he had preselected in case they had any trouble; he became immersed in his screen. The possibility of doing a power cut was a useful resource for any intervention.
“Yes, I think I can get access but it will take a minute”.
“Let us know when you get it”, replied Cristina. “I think this ankle, high-heel trouble excuse is not going to last too long without raising suspicions”.
In fact, the security agents had paid little attention to the couple’s incident, but the tactic had not gone unnoticed by Ramona. Other guests were arriving.
“I think those heels are the perfect excuse”, said Guzmán. “Are you alright?”
“That’s four times now…”
Herrera’s dress had an opening on the side that exposed her slender legs; the detail did not go unnoticed by her colleague. Cristina gave her colleague a reproachful look.
“Hurry up, TJ, Álvaro can’t stand the pressure”.
TJ worked on his computer on a panel with the power company’s logo and controls everywhere.
“I think I’ve got it now… Fingers crossed”.
Ramona walked towards the couple.
“When I say ‘now’, turn it off and on. It will be like a power drop. We just need a second”. Guzmán addressed his friend who was still massaging her ankle, “ready?”
Cristina stood up and reached for Guzmán’s arm, another congenial couple walking towards the security control. In front of them, a man in a tuxedo walked through the control. The police couple did not pay any attention to him. They had not recognized attorney Eduardo Aster. Ramona stopped and followed them with her gaze.
“OK, TJ… now!”
Álvaro and Cristina walked under the metal detector, close behind attorney Aster. It happened in less than a second, the light went off and the systems fell. The security people looked bewildered for a moment. Ramona looked to the sides and walked inside to see what had just happened.
They had made it into the party.
A security guard directed the facial recognition camera to the three guests and waited, looking at his tablet.
“Welcome Mr. Aster, enjoy the party”. He looked at his tablet again and gazed at the couple that had just walked through the metal detector.
From the van, commissioner García informed:
“Don’t worry, we hacked the archive and added you to the list, stay calm”.
“Welcome…” he said, and read the names, “Mr. and Mrs. Ortega, enjoy the party”.
Over two hundred guests wandered around the garden; they greeted familiar faces and drank at Juno Coentrao’s mansion, Don Nassar’s associate and Esther Nassar’s boyfriend. The waiters served champagne and wine of all kinds and origins, there was a bar with cooks preparing sushi, and in one end of the garden, decorated with marijuana plants, was a buffet loaded with all sorts of cannabis-based food.
“This is the new trend, Álvaro, smoking your stuff belongs to a different age”, Cristina said.
“Absolutely, I belong to the old school and still haven’t tried alcohol”.
“Cristina, you’re like a mother”, said commissioner García and regretted it as soon as the words came out of his mouth. “I’m sorry, sometimes my mouth is just too big”.
“Don’t worry commissioner; you’re right. One never stops being a mother”.
She stared at the pool’s surface where psychedelic images were being projected, moving to the sound of music.
“There really is a lot of money involved in this party”, said Guzmán. “You need to throw together all the salaries earned in a policeman’s lifetime to put up something like this”, he added and gestured with his head to the group that stood just a few meters from them.
Juno held Esther Nassar, his girlfriend, by the waist and spoke in a group of exquisitely dressed people where everyone used cautious words and moved about gracefully. Ramona watched them from a distance. Juno whispered something in Esther’s ear, he apologized to the group and walked into the mansion. Ramona followed.
“This is when we divide”, said Guzmán and followed Juno and Ramona into the mansion. “I’m going to the bathroom… you act natural and go flirt with that guy…” He pointed at a young man in a tuxedo who was concentrating on a plate heaped with food. Anthony Somoza.
Cristina recognized her son’s face in the young man’s, ‘that could have been him in a few years’ time’, she thought. Anthony felt the inspector’s intense gaze, a look of nostalgia at the sight of her little boy incarnated in an adult.
“My name’s Anthony”, said the young man, offering his hand.
“I’m Cristina, lovely to meet you… Anthony, did you know that the name Lucas suits you?”
“Lucas is my eldest brother’s name”.
“Isn’t that a wonderful coincidence?” she said, trying to be friendly.
A man with a shaved, shiny head and muscly build, waved a hand at Anthony from the other end of the pool and continued walking towards the group that had gathered around cannabis area, ready to try its delights. Carlo Stamas wanted to find a place among the lawyers that stood with attorney Aster, chatting and eating appetizers prepared with the narcotic herb.
“A friend?” she asked.
“Not really; I guess you could say we work together”.
“Right…”
A few minutes later, Juno and Ramona returned to the garden, Juno looked up at the sky and Ramona checked the lit screen of the phone she was carrying. Behind them came Don Nassar followed by two men of Chinese phenotype in suits. Esther, his daughter, went to greet him accompanied by a young couple, Julián Konks and Ana Riccoli, who were dressed like Armani mannequins, both in black. Esther introduced the young couple to Don.
Cristina noticed Álvaro with a poker face walking out from a side door. Inspector Herrera remained vigilant at her shy companion’s side. Anthony’s plate was still full of canapes, he had barely tried any during their exchange of banal phrases. She apologized and left to find her colleague, who was returning from his incursion. He whispered in her ear:
“Something odd is going on here, this doesn’t make any sense”, and he added, addressing those who were listening outside, “commissioner? I think this is a waste of time and, besides, we don’t even know what we’re looking for”.
At that very moment, a drone appeared hovering above the pool. The sound and the blue lights announced its presence at the mansion’s zenith. Juno and Esther pointed at it and everyone started clapping with excitement. The music stopped.
A waiter handed Juno a microphone.
“Hello everyone! Thank you for being here with us on the truly magical night of our engagement party…”
All the guests clapped.
Álvaro looked puzzled at Cristina.
“We’ve come to a fucking engagement party?”
Juno continued:
“Esther and I thank you all for your support and have prepared a little surprise in return”, he said, pointing at the drone. “Here it is… Synchro’s exclusive first shipment. Enjoy!”
People started clapping even harder, as if the Rolling Stones had just turned up on stage.
“Synchro? What the hell is Synchro?” asked Guzmán.
“It’s a new technology that changes people’s emotions”, said TJ into the earpiece. “I read about it in a few trend pages. They say it’s the shit”.
“I think this is shit; we aren’t going to stay at a spoilt brat’s wedding. Permission to leave”.
“Denied. We are waiting for something”, ordered commissioner García.
Juno kissed Esther and shook hands with his future father in law. Ramona pressed the screen of her phone and left it on the grass. A circle formed around as if it was a religious ceremony. The drone descended and landed on the blonde woman’s smartphone. It made contact with the phone and at that same instant deposited a black box on the ground. The guests continued clapping hard. Ramona walked back to the spot and took the box; then, she started offering black balls to the people around her.
“What do we do?” asked Álvaro without comprehending what was going on.
“The drone is leaving!” added Cristina, taking out the gun she had hidden in the inside of her thighs.
Ramona could have been a priest. They were all approaching her in search of a black ball that would change their emotions for a while, exactly like a drug.
The drone flew upwards and Cristina, in the middle of a dense fog pointed at the flying object. She shot three times; there were confused shouts and the machine with the helixes fell into the pool.
“Stop! What are you doing?” Guzmán tried holding Cristina.
With the loud sound of the shots came a moment of confusion. Ramona stopped giving away the balls; Cristina advanced around the edge of the pool towards the blonde woman. Ramona drew out her own gun and fired at the armed policewoman who was walking menacingly towards her. The bullet got Cristina in the abdomen and the impact threw her back into the water. Guzmán saw his colleague fall in the pool next to the drone that was starting to sink, and jumped in. The water was already turning red.
The police cars hurried at top speed in the mansion’s direction. They set off the sirens and the stroboscopic lights threw beams of red and blue into the night.
“Ambulance! Agent shot! 9-85!” Guzmán swam to where Cristina was floating. “9-85! Cristina has fallen!”
Ramona aimed at him from the edge of the pool.
“Police, Police!” he shouted from the water when he saw the woman’s gun pointing at him.
Cristina Herrera was floating with her eyes wide open; she felt the impact of the bullet bellow her chest and knew that she was dying. She looked down; Lucas was there, waiting for her in the depths of that mass of water. The child stretched his hand out to reach her. Cristina breathed slowly and placidly; a ghost of a smile appeared on her face. She saw the fog clearing up and the clouds opened to a starred sky. She also felt Guzmán at her side and heard him shout, not at her, but at the blonde model that had shot her, she could not catch the words. She just floated, lulled by the water. She was leaving to the world of the dead and would never return. Lucas pulled her foot from below.
Lucas, her son, was waiting for her. Laura, her friend, would receive her. She was on her way.
Then she felt that they were pulling her upwards but she was still floating. Lucas waited for her in the depths of the pool. They were moving her slowly and she started counting the last seconds of her life: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine and ten.
“Hello, death” she whispered.
“Cristina!... Cristina!” Álvaro Guzmán was shouting in despair, holding his colleague’s head to keep it out of the water. “Wait, hold on, the ambulance is on its way… hold on a little longer, Cristina”.
The policeman was trying to pull her to the edge of the pool and take her out, but he felt some sort of resistance, as if something or someone was holding her from the depths and pulled her down.
Ramona kept pointing at him from the edge of the pool. An assault police brigade entered the garden and aimed their firearms at the blonde woman. Slowly, she left her weapon on the ground and dropped to her knees, hands behind her neck.
The guests were still looking around in shock and confusion at everything that was going on. Juno watched the situation and walked to where attorney Aster stood, surrounded by lawyers.
Guzmán held onto the pool’s ledge, exhausted; an assault policeman held Cristina by the shoulders and pulled her out of the water, then, he laid her on the grass and placing an index finger on his colleague’s neck, checked her pulse on the aorta. She was still alive.
A medical team hurried into the garden with a stretcher. In less than a minute, Cristina Herrera would be inside the ambulance, speeding desperately to its destination; two paramedics attended her bullet injury to stabilize her vital signs. Her life was slipping away through a bullet’s hole.
Sat at the edge of the pool, Álvaro kept his eyes on the water where the blood was slowly dissolving; the drone rested at the bottom, dark, like a satiated shark. He was breathing quickly, his lungs struggling for oxygen; a consequence of his smoking habit.
Guzmán relived the moment in which he had left Cristina to follow the owner of the ostentatious house. His mind went back to the instant in which he entered the mansion, when he left his colleague alone. He returned to the past.
Guzmán had walked into a room facing the garden where a large group of people gathered in a circle around Don Nassar, then, he went down a corridor from where he could hear animation and laughter. It was empty. He almost bumped into two waiters carrying lobster canapes. He walked on, looking at both sides; further down, he opened a door. It was the bathroom; two middle aged men dressed in tuxedos were handling a few grams of cocaine on a marble ledge. The men looked at him unperturbed:
“Want some?” one of them offered.
Right at that moment, Juno walked in through a door at the back, followed by Ramona. Álvaro moved to the right and stood in front of the white porcelain urinal, he undid his fly.
“Amazing party, Juno!”
“Completely wild”, said the man who was drawing the lines of powder, white as sugar. “Check this out, it’s pure snow… We’re going to spend the whole night skiing, aaaaa-ooooh”, he lifted his head, imitating a wolf.
Juno watched them, he looked at Ramona and nodded.
“I’ve told you before; I don’t want to see that shit in my house”.
Ramona went up to both men, without hesitation, she pushed them, opened the tap, put her hand under the running water and cleaned the surface, dissolving the white powder in the sink. Then, she quickly checked the two silent men’s pockets and found two sachets full of white powder on their coats. She threw them into the bathroom and flushed them away. Neither of them dared question the authority of the spectacular woman who towered over them.
Juno went to one of the urinals to the left of Álvaro, undid his fly and stared at the wall ahead. Ramona stood behind him. The other men remained silent like two boys who had just been told off by their teacher.
“I promised to bring something tonight that you’ve never seen before”, said Juno above the sound of the liquid hitting the white porcelain.
“Oh Juno, we apologize. We did it out of habit, we trust you…”
“Yes, amigo, you always surprise us for the better”, agreed his companion.
Juno did not look at them, he did not answer, but turned his head to his urinal neighbor. Álvaro stared at the pink Carrara marble wall ahead and zipped his pants.
“Have we met? I’m Juno Coentrao”, the man urinating in the uncomfortable silence of the bathroom said.
Álvaro washed his hands in the sink. He had unzipped his pants, but had not actually done anything.
“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Coentrao, I’m Armando Manzanero. My apologies for not shaking hands”, said Guzmán as he placed them under the running water.
“Manzanero… The name is not in my radar…” Juno shook the hand that was out of view. He was finishing.
“Of course, I’m here with TJ, with the lawyers”, he said the first thing that came to mind and moved to dry his hands. “A pleasure to have met you”.
He placed his hands under the dryer and it started blowing hot air.
Juno went to the tap closest to the dryer. Ramona waited calmly behind. The hand dryer’s noise added some distance to the conversation between the infiltrated policeman and the owner of the house.
Juno finished, washed his hands and wiped them dry with one of the white cotton towels that were neatly folded on a table.
The hand dryer went silent and Guzmán walked to the door.
“I hope you enjoy the party, this has only just started and the evening is going to be full of surprises”. Juno waited for Ramona to open the door and left without waiting for an answer, his blonde shadow followed close behind.
As soon as they were gone, the two men sighed in relief.
Guzmán left after them. In the corridor, he found himself face to face with Carlo Stamas. They looked at each other; they knew the other’s face from somewhere, but neither remembered from where.
***
Guzmán returned to the garden, to the present. He listened.
“Who’s in charge?”
He raised his soaked head and looked at the elegantly dressed man who had posed the question so energetically. He recognized him; the State attorney Eduardo Aster. Juno stood beside him, glaring fiercely at Guzmán.
“Ask after commissioner García, my communication gear is all wet”.
The attorney now addressed the policemen who had arrested and handcuffed Ramona.
“I am the State attorney, Eduardo Aster, and I demand that you free this woman right now. Remove those handcuffs”.
The elegantly dressed man addressed the uniformed policemen in black balaclavas who were guarding Ramona.
“This is a private property and a gun-free private party”, the attorney insisted, and the police agents glanced at each other doubtfully. “Where is the court order? I want to see a court order right now… I have told you to free this woman… More than one person here is going to find themselves in deep trouble”.
The police agents hesitated.
Álvaro stood up, completely soaked, and faced Aster.
“This woman has shot and possibly killed an inspector of the Police department”.
“Identify yourself before you address me…” The attorney was furious. “And let me tell you that your colleague opened fire in public, endangering many innocent people; she did not identify herself before shooting, and damaged objects of someone else’s property”, he said and added, pointing at the bottom of the pool, “on the other hand, this woman of the security services, who holds a gun license, acted in self-defense in the face of such a shocking irresponsibility… And, who are you? Show me your badge”.
Aster did not bother hiding the superiority and disdain he felt towards the man who had jumped into the pool.
Álvaro bent down, he lifted his pants’ cuffs slightly and took his weapon and badge from his ankle. Standing up, he pointed his gun at the attorney’s head, his hand steady.
“Identify yourself… Son of a bitch. This is my badge”. He stretched out his hand holding the department’s shield up to Aster’s face. “Where is yours? On your knees and hands behind your head. Remain silent until you have been spoken to. These are your rights: you have the right to remain silent and everything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law”.
Guzman’s temerity paralyzed Aster and he dropped to his knees trembling. The soaked policeman continued aiming exactly at the point between Aster’s eyes while water dripped from the gun’s butt. The attorney remained silent and on his knees, and slowly he lifted his hands to place them behind his head. Álvaro Guzmán extended his free hand, and without saying a word or shifting his gaze, received the handcuffs that his colleague was handing him, then he approached the attorney’s back with tense and measured steps and handcuffed him.
A tense silence filled the garden.
Juno took a step forward, then looked at Don, who stood next to his daughter Esther; he shook his head; they had to stay calm and keep their distances, always discrete.
“Take this idiot away from here and interrogate him”, said Guzmán, as he walked towards the house. “Oh, and don’t forget to read his rights!” He looked at his watch where a drop of water magnified the time; 22.00h.
***
Ramona and attorney Eduardo Aster were under custody when commissioner García arrived.
“Are you attorney Aster?”
“Yes”, replied the handcuffed man curtly.
“Free him!” he said, addressing his men.
One of the police agents, hidden behind a balaclava, proceeded to remove the mechanism that was immobilizing the arrested man’s hands behind his back.
“I am commissioner García, in charge of the operation; I apologize for the inconveniences we might have caused… but the…”
“The man pointed at my head with a gun!” Aster interrupted and repeated, “that madman pointed at my head!”
“We apologize, it’s the tension of an intervention”.
Aster looked at the tall blonde who was being directed to the police car.
“Her too. Let her go”.
“Her? This woman has shot a police agent during her service”.
“I don’t think you realize what’s about to come at you”, Aster was starting to lose his temper. “There’s that mad policeman who aimed at my head”, he took a deep breath. “Every single man in this operation is going to have a bad time responding judicially to this fuck-up”. He pointed at the woman. “You better free the only person who has fulfilled her duty tonight right now”.
Commissioner García looked at the agent who was holding Ramona and nodded.
Ramona felt her liberated hands and rubbed her wrists to get the blood flowing again; without saying a word she turned to walk proudly back into the mansion. Juno was waiting for her by the entrance door.
“First thing tomorrow I want your supervisor and the director of the Police Department of Mexico City in my office with the full report of this operation…” Aster wiped his forehead with his hand and after a pause said: “I want the name of the agent that pointed at my head. Give me his name”.
García doubted for a second.
“Inspector Álvaro Guzmán”.
“Guzmán…”
Attorney Aster went to his own vehicle without asking any further questions.
The police cars turned off their flashing lights and retired, defeated and silent, down the winding roads.
Inside the mansion, after the shock of the failed police intervention, the party got back its rhythm; like someone who falls while dancing, recovers from their fall and continues dancing just as before.
They were playing rap-gun music, the psychedelic images dressed the pool’s surface, waiters replaced drinks in people’s hands while they commented the experience they had just lived.
As instructed by Esther Nassar’s, a short waiter walked through the crowd holding a black box in his hands and offering its contents to the guests.
Don conversed excitedly with his daughter Esther and with the young creator of Synchro, Julián Konks. Next to him stood Ana who would not leave his side.
A group of ten people under the effects of Synchro danced synchronized to the rhythm of the raucous and rowdy music. They smiled and laughed without having to look at each other.
Esther showed her phone screen to her father, who watched in wonder the behavior of the guests around him, united by the ingestion of a microchip.
“See? Right now, I’ve selected the dance and laugh mode, but if we press this here, we can select the relax and take it easy mode”, said Esther as she touched the screen.
After a few seconds, the group that was doing the synchronized dancing slowed down. Some hugged without knowing each other, others sat or lied down on the grass with a smile on their lips.
“I have no words”, said Don Nassar who wasn’t missing a single detail of the guests’ behavior.
Julián, at his side, laughed as he watched the faces of people enjoying a moment of programmed relaxation.
Esther showed him the screen once again.
“We could send them whatever sensations we want”, Don said and pointed at the ‘tantric sex’ mode and then at ‘wild sex’. He laughed.
“Let’s be prudent; the effect lasts approximately an hour and I don’t want to host an orgy on my engagement party”.
Esther looked around searching for Juno, he had left during Ramona’s and attorney Aster’s arrest. She could not see them in the garden.
The group continued stretching out and relaxing under the effects of the app that Esther held in her hand.
Further away, other groups had formed, all smiles and long gazes at the sky amidst a stillness only interrupted by the music and astonished interest of those who had not joined in the black pill fun.
Julián spoke to Esther and her father:
“Watch this, look, it’s funny. See that woman in blue? The one that is lying down and waving her arms?” he pointed at a woman of about forty dressed in an elegant blue dress who was rolling on the grass in complete bliss. Don nodded. “She moves first and then the others follow. Look; the radius of connection is of about twenty meters”. He then indicated a group that was further down and where everyone was dancing synchronized.
Julián spotted Carlo Stamas and a group of lawyers, men and women, who, inhibited, moved to the music’s beat. He also spotted his associate Anthony Somoza who was standing apart, staring at the pool without engaging in any conversations. He brought his attention back to his own group; Ana squeezed his hand and returned him to the reality of his position, CEO of a company, talking to its most important investors, the Nassars.
Don watched the woman in blue. It was true; whenever the woman moved the rest of the group soon followed.
Julián continued his explanation:
“This is what we denominate a ‘dominant subject’; it always happens. Every group has a dominant subject; the rest adapt to their emotions”.
“Are their brains stronger?” inquired Don.
“No, strength is not exactly the right term for this; it’s a matter of alexithymia… Every human produces endorphins that will make them feel a certain pleasure. Let’s just say that within each brain there is a high degree of suffering; pain, for example, is a way of expressing this suffering. These are degrees of alexithymia. The dominant subject, their brain, is the one generating the largest number of endorphins and therefore has less alexithymia. Synchro increases the production of endorphins; the dominant subject is that which most endorphins generated.
“Frankly, I am impressed, young man”, Don measured his words carefully. “This is the drug of the future. It doesn’t require crops, nor chemicals, it doesn’t need to cross borders, no transport, no complicated distribution… You just download an app on your phone… that simple”. He pointed at the group that continued to relax on the lawn. “Look at them… they are happy, their minds are connected, thoughts shared”.
