The computer starts up; patience while a world constructs itself. Email. Nothing but spam, most of it American. The video-chat application opens. The usual icons, the contacts and the list of online users, sorted by country; it is the hour of the Americas. Silence; his friends are not there. The screen promises nothing. Rémi does not feel like hunting. He moves the mouse pointer over his contacts. He clicks each name. Conversation windows appear accompanied by his photograph, slightly different in each one. He studies them. Rémi bored, calling out. He writes.
Sad, you’re not there.
He sends it.
Sad, you’re not there.
He sends it.
Sad, you’re not there.
He sends it.
And so on, ten times.
Rui] Yes, I’m here.
He smiles.
Night] You don’t appear on my list.
Rui] I made myself invisible.
Night] I’ll do the same. That way, we won’t be disturbed.
Rui] I just arrived.
Night] A coincidence, then.
Each time, Rui sends him an almost identical image, slightly in profile, his features redrawn by the light of his lamp, too powerful for the photoelectric cells in his cheap camera.
Rui] I told you, we were made for each other.
Night] As you were with Helio. You look sad to me.
Rui] Haven’t I always been?
Night] That isn’t true. You’re smiling as you say it.
Rui] Nothing can be hidden from you. You read me so well. Shall we switch on the video?
Rémi starts the video call, leaving the microphone muted as usual. Rui’s image reaches him, blurry, but clear enough for Rémi to believe himself at his side, far away in southern Brazil.
Rui] I have a story to tell you.
Night] Go ahead. I’m reading.
Rui] Alicia telephoned me today. You don’t know her. Here is her photograph.
Rui holds up a picture and adjusts the camera’s zoom so Rémi can see the details clearly. A woman in her forties, her features emaciated by fatigue or drugs.
Rui] And here is her story, told schematically. You will imagine the dialogue. I’m sure you’ll know how. Alicia hates her mother, and her mother hates her. Huge fights whenever they call each other. They could simply ignore each other, but it is stronger than they are. And Alicia is poor; she needs her mother to look after Rodi, her daughter. Alicia was a charming girl with a bright future ahead of her. She was my first and only girlfriend. It was at the end of our adolescence. About ten years ago, she fell in love with two men, both cocaine addicts. By force of circumstance, Alicia became one too. She, who had never drunk or smoked… They took drugs together, and so they did everything together: fucking, quarrelling, rape, love, poverty, ecstasy. One day, one of the men was arrested. He escaped and returned to her. She was pregnant by the other man. Mad with rage, he drew a gun and shot the child’s father dead. The gunshots alerted the neighbours, who notified the police. The television cameras arrived first, and our jealous fugitive’s madness increased tenfold; he fired at the police, who did not hesitate to return fire. Bang, bang, a good show, and they killed him. The police realized it was a shooting gallery. Bang, bang. They massacred everyone. Brazil was not outraged. All criminals. Alicia survived because she was already lying unconscious. Alicia’s father, who is a banker, paid large sums to clear his daughter’s name, but he disowned her and divorced her mother. Alicia was transferred to an asylum to be detoxified. She disappeared for six years and, of course, no one detoxified her. She did it herself, confined to her cell. Rodi was born in prison and placed in the care of Alicia’s hysterical mother. Then, one day, Alicia came back to us. We are her only family. No one knew her story except Helio and me. Since her father had cleared her record, I was able to intercede with the school principal to have her hired as a substitute teacher.
Night] What is Rodi like?
Rui shows him a photograph on the screen.
Night] Pretty girl.
Rui] A monster.
Night] It would be surprising if she weren’t.
Rui] Certainly. There, that is my story. Do you find it interesting?
Night] Sad.
Rui] Like Brazil.
Night] My personal upheavals are nothing compared with that story.
Rui] I didn’t tell it for that reason. I just got off the telephone with Alicia. She had quarrelled with her mother again. I’m tired of people’s anger. You are my haven of peace. Will you be able to sleep now that I’ve told you a story? Will you go searching for a cock to ride and drain?
Night] I’m not a pervert, Rui.
Rui] Who said anything about perversion? I know the nature of men as well as you do.
Night] I don’t really feel like it.
Rui] I rather like that “really” between the negation and the direct object.
Night] Why is that, Mr. French Teacher?
Rui] All it would take is a god, a young butterfly passing above your cybernetic windows, and you would be tempted to catch him in your net; that is why you did not simply say, “I don’t feel like it.” You would break his wings, rape him. Then you would throw him back into the sky. Through the magic of cyberspace, new wings would emerge, and the young butterfly would go elsewhere to have his limbs broken.
Night] Is that what men are like?
Rui] A beautiful invention, at any rate.
Night] What is?
Rui] Desire.
Night] And cyberspace.
Rui] Nothing is left to chance. There must be a reason behind this virtual construction.
Night] Do you think that one day we might become one and the same consciousness?
Rui] Never, I think. Life will see to it that our plans are thwarted and the cards reshuffled. It wants movement. It is voracious, with the lips of Babel.
Night] What else?
Rui] Alicia’s anger is still ringing in my ears.
Night] What was she saying to her mother?
Rui] I told you. Invent the dialogue yourself.
Night] “You never loved me. You preferred your social gatherings and your union, your precious union! I saw through you even when I was little. There was handsome Fernando. Then there was your resident Che Guevara. My father always said you were a whore, you bitch!”
Rui] That’s more or less it. You overdid it a little, but you have the essentials. Pathetic, isn’t it?
Night] What time is it, after all that?
Rui] Are you bored with me?
Night] No. I have to get up early tomorrow. Lucienne will be up at dawn, knowing her.
Rui] She sounds soothing.
Night] That’s a good way to describe her. The simplicity of the country.
Rui] Are you joking?
Night] I know, I know. But you understand me.
Rui] I always understand everything. What will you do about Luc?
Night] Nothing in particular. Then there is still Stéphane in the picture.
Rui] And your Victor?
Night] Of course, Victor.
Rui] I don’t believe you.
Night] This discussion could go on forever at this rate.
Rui] That’s what I want. Besides, you’re the one adding to it: Luc, Stéphane, Victor, Rui…
Night] Rui?
Rui] No?
Night] Of course.
Rui] Liar, liar, liar. I’m not your type. Renato is.
Night] Your neighbour across the hall? It’s true, he’s handsome.
Rui] You can say that again! A friend once told me, “He is so handsome my ovaries hurt.” But Renato does not hunt ovaries; he is lost in his affairs with men. He found you very charming the time he spoke to you. He was so anxious to please you.
Night] A Freddy.
Rui] Who?
Rémi tells him what Lucienne revealed.
Rui] Yes, Renato could be your Freddy, but Renato has just earned a doctorate in philosophy.
Night] Big deal. That only makes him more charming.
Rui] I knew he was your type.
Night] Not yours?
Rui] No, I’m in zoology. I collect rare species: large elephants who show themselves in red satin briefs, garters and black lace. I also like the very thin ones with big cocks, like thirsty cacti; I like perverts who drool merely from saying fuck; I like potbellies, leeches.
Night] You’re lying, Rui. You’re an aesthete.
Rui] I might surprise you… I’m a child of LSD, don’t forget. And you, what do you truly find here?
Night] My face, Rui, nothing but my own image.
Rui] A very philosophical answer. Here is my body, as you say. And here is a photograph of me when I was twenty.
Rui shows him the photograph, moves back and tries to imitate the same pose. He returns, shows the photograph again, steps back, resumes the pose.
Night] You were handsome!
Rui] I’m not anymore?
Night] Of course you are…
Rui] I’m teasing you.
Rui looks to his right.
Rui] Hermina is spying on me again. I often make a point of getting naked. You are right to search for your face; others serve as mirrors for us. And no matter how they distort our light, we always end up recognizing ourselves in it…
He stands and presents his torso to Rémi, puffing out his chest.
Rui] Ignore the belly. Am I not attractive?
Night] Yes, you are.
Rui] You lie badly. Next time, I’ll go get Renato.
Night] Don’t be cruel to me. You misunderstand how I use my heart. It is time for me to go to bed. Good night.
Rui] Good night, handsome liar.
Rui bows, continues puffing out his chest and waves to him. Rémi ends the connection with a snicker.
He does not shut everything down at once. He changes his status to “Online” so everyone will know he has returned to the planet. He studies the list of people online. The list changes; names disappear, others emerge, as though the surface of the screen were nothing but an emulsion of desires. A green dot appears on Cobra’s portrait, then on Fritz’s.
The conversations resume. Rui asks him why he is not asleep. Rémi answers that he is not tired. Rui sends him a smile and writes, “I told you that you were a liar. I was keeping you from going hunting.”
That is a grand word, Rémi thinks. No one will die, only possible little deaths, the extinction of urges. Cobra, as always, makes advances. Fritz confesses that he is “in heat.” Have fun, Fritz.
“Farewell, handsome man,” he writes to Rui. He turns everything off—the computer, the lamp—then closes the office door.