time with minor articles. These were the kind of images that are shown to illustrate words that do not say a thing that matters.
DING! The elevator campaign bell rang as he reached the 49thfloor. With a cigarette on his lips, Rafael felt impressed with what he saw in front of him as the elevator door opened its doors. A vast open space with hundreds of networked computers tucked into the interactive office furniture occupied the whole floor. Here it was the newspaper office where Roberta worked for, the Autonomous Zone. A very fancy lady passed pretty fast next to Rafael’s nose and informed him that it was not allowed to smoke in that place. While Rafael was smashing his Davidoff on an Eva Solo’s mahogany ashtray sided with chrome, Paulo Renato arrived.
—Hi! You are Mr.Sterling, right?
—Yes, yes! How are you? — he greeted him, returning the question.
— I’m fine, thanks. So, what brings you here?
— I spoke to Roberta and she told me that I could count on you for some help. I need a hand with these photos we are using for a research article.
— Ok, ok … no problem about it. Show me the pictures. — said Paulo Renato. Rafael opened the light brown soft envelope and gave the photos to Renato.
— Hmmm. The photos are interesting! I am going to take them and digitize in the drum scanner that is the powerful one. Then we will retouch them with Photoshop to seem what else lies underneath them. These photos seem like Caravaggio or Rembrandt’s paintings. Man Ray did some works like these. Actually, maybe Helmut Newton or Anton Corbijn.
—What do you mean by that? That the photos seem like paintings? — Rafael asked doubtedly.
—Precisely. I presume you want to know is if we can obtain a sharper and clearer image from the photos, the characters in them, I mean, or any other evidence, whatever suits better to the contents of your research, right?
— Yeah, that is it! — exclaimed Rafael hoping to see Renato working the pictures out.
— But look Mr. Sterling, the images are high-quality. Not only I am going to need some time to scan them properly, but also it is going to take days to study and modify them. Since they are in black and white that hardens my job and the computer’s task to examine the footage. Consider that we need an algorithm for a powerful sharpness I am going to need to use a software of my own after I apply to it Photoshop.
— In sum? — Rafael simplified, knowing it was not going to be something of an easier task. — Call me in the end of the week. By that time, I may have already something to tell you about. Also, because the software I have at home for image processing performs more complex tasks and gets near what you are expecting. Anyway, it takes all night to perform the examination.
— Ok, I will call you on Friday. — Rafael answered, as if he was losing his drive.
After the meeting with Paulo Renato, he went home, called Sylvie and they cooked the dinner together. However, no matter how much Sylvie would talk, Rafael’s mind was elsewhere. He stood now watching groups of aesthetic soldiers. He pictured himself being awarded with prizes for having unraveled an urban phenomenon. Of course, everything was a big “if…”, so much that Sylvie did not seem to feel right before himself. As usual, they went to her place where they slept in the living room with a view over the river. The Bang & Olufsen sound system shot sound notes to every corner of the house, designing a tactile symphony that delighted them. In a given moment, they were not paying any attention to the music whatsoever. They remained hugged until morning in-between the slim silky gray-stripped sheets.
In the following morning, in spite of the sun’s rays spreading their light in the room, they did not warm the cold air and Rafael woke up shivering. He was already alone at her place, after she left home to go to her work. His cell phone rang and so he picked the call up, without knowing what to say, while he was stretching himself:
—Hello? Who is this? Is that you Sylvie? — asked Rafael, still feeling sleepy.
— No, it is Paulo Renato calling here, the Autonomous Zone Image Editor, Roberta’s colleague. Do you know who is talking?
— Oh, yes I know. I am sorry, but since it is almost 10:25, I thought it still was not convenient to call you.
— No problem!
— So, tell me, do we have any news?
— Yes, we have. I managed to enhance a code routine in an image processing software that in nearly 10 hours applies to photos the effect you need. Let us say that near 21:30 pm if you want to come by to the newspaper building, we can chat about them. I could print the pictures for you already retouched.
— Excellent! I will come by at The Autonomous Zone. You do not know how thankful I am to you. — Rafael was smiling, even if his eyes were still closed.
— I figure.
— It is in the 49thfloor, right? — Rafael confirmed.
— Yes, that is it. I will see you then. Bye!
— Thank you. See you later! — Rafael said goodbye at the same time he felt as if he was in a slow-motion movie shot.
AT THE THEATRE CAFE
October 20, 2000
Rafael was feeling hungry and went to shave himself while listening to Tito & Tarantula’s tunes. He was dressed in black and denim. He heads for the closest theatre café. There he could read the notes on the Complete ones that were provided by Roberta. He asked for a latte and a toast. In a quiet and fancy environment, he could quietly stare at the passers-by rushing through the street while he was having breakfast and listening to Haendel. This was a very well crowded place, and besides the quiet mood in the cafe the food was great, much as the service.
He opened the envelope with one hand, while he put on his lips a Davidoff with the other hand. He lit it up with a zippo lighter he carried in his coat’s pockets. He closed his eyes to protect them from the smoke of the cigarette and started reading what was written on the notes with blue permanent ink in many shades of color. It all pointed out to a sort of a transcription of a talk between a professor and several apprentices during a walk. This might have happened over the 80s in some city garden. In the notebook, the dialogues were of this kind:
— We made The Schools like these because closed spaces compress us. They force the internal elements to discharge their pressure on themselves and that overshadows the Complete ones to see the global performance. This is why our Schools function outdoors, on the streets. The passers-by do not know what is going on, though sometimes they suspect us. “These seem to be the words from a Master of some sorts”— thought Rafael to himself, picturing the situations that possibly matched the transcriptions. “The apprentices laugh.”— wrote whoever recorded the dialogues.
— But going back to what brings us all here… what we expect from a Complete Man is that he won’t miss anything: he shall be full, gapless, total, perfect, already accomplished, concluded, finished in a good way, satisfied, fulfilled, grandiose and bigger than anything! — declared again the Master.
— But wishing us to be so special is not it too ambitious? — one of the apprentices questioned.
— Yes, it is. I have the healthy arrogance of admitting it. Nevertheless, if The Schools Operations of
