By José Gandue @Gandour
It's 7:30 am. Yes, Earth Day, 2022. I've been checking social media with the little data left on my phone to see what's new, to see if anyone knows what's really going on. All I've seen are tons of photos from all my friends around the world showing what it looks like from their windows., Without a trace of polluted air, the sky is clear and an unusual landscape where everyone can contemplate hundreds of kilometers away the mountains, the eternal snows and the forests that on a normal day would be lost in the pollution. More than one person has stupidly and unnecessarily proclaimed that this is proof that the real plague is humankind, as if they were androids or aliens who accidentally fell into these parts. I never would have imagined being near the end of the world and that everything looked so beautiful and clear from my balcony.
For several months now, it's been normal to see camels, brown rabbits, foxes, anteaters, pumas, and llamas walking down the street, and to hear all kinds of birds singing in the trees, which, surely, They mock our confinement and the disheveled faces we wear when we search for them in the branches. People no longer applaud healthcare workers at 8 pm, because some neighbors have shown such contempt for healthcare professionals in their neighborhood that they've essentially forced them to live in hospitals, right next to the sick. No one even protests anymore, because almost everyone believes that just by looking at some of the more suspicious neighbors..., contagion may occur.
I haven't left my house in 54 fortnights except twice, and it was just a few blocks away, covered in all kinds of sanitary clothing and with all my documents, including my birth certificate, credit cards, and the driver's license I never used., the recommendations of high-ranking officials, the medical prescriptions to alleviate all my sorrows and ailments, My country's flag in various formats and a certificate from any number of doctors, living or deceased, stating that I am fit enough not to drop dead in the street or infect others. Once, while maintaining the required social distance in a line to enter the supermarket, I had the mistaken idea of unplugging my headphones. and let those around me listen to some of the New Order recordings I'd been listening to, and the girls in the row started dancing. The police came to suppress this act of rebellion. I turned off my phone and ran out, driven by the devil and by regret, and without being able to buy the vegetables I needed. I haven't gone out since. The Rappi guy who delivers to me often had warned me: Until the situation is resolved, hope is forbidden in the face of law enforcement.
The president continues to tell jokes every time he appears on television. Instead of talking about the pandemic, he prefers to discuss personal details of the FIFA 2022 tournament in which he participated. and in which he has played online against prominent actors and the occasional overweight footballer who still enjoys the affection of his fans. Sometimes he starts singing off-key songs from what he calls "classic Spanish rock" or invokes the memory of the virgins he prayed to in his childhood., hoping the sky doesn't break and fall on us. In one speech, he stated that his primary role before the people was to be a source of encouragement in our times, and that his purpose was to make us smile, regardless of the cost or the means. Some claim that the leader has long since ceased to be present. and that what we see on screen are their pre-recorded holograms addressing the nation.
I no longer see anyone on my friends' forums saying that we're going to come out of this crisis better. We also don't share real photos of ourselves because we already look too haggard in the mirror. To cheer up the population, they've invented apps that show us snapshots of what we looked like a couple of years ago and try to convince us that nothing and no one has declined. It seems—I have no way of confirming it—that many of the most followed celebrities have passed away or preferred to hide away in their mansions, and every time a picture of Rihanna or Ryan Gosling in underwear goes viral, some people talk about the exaggerated magic of Photoshop., an application that, according to the most astute, is controlled by the CIA and other secret services.
Anyway, all I can do is write, and I don't know if anyone is still reading me. I write while listening to music. Luckily, I still have my bootleg recordings of Loquillo y los Trogloditas, Massive Attack, and Aviador Dro y sus obreros especiales. Every now and then I go back to my tapes of Argentine rock, and they play, at a low volume, on my stereo., a few tracks from defunct bands such as Revólver Plateado, Superlitio and Pornomotora, among others. Every night, after crying a little, I finally fall asleep after listening to Local Time and their song for the umpteenth time London, especially when, amidst their shouts of yesteryear, they conclude by exclaiming that:
«"And in the middle of a building, a group can be heard playing rock and roll.".
We'll be back again in about 2 million years.,
to repeat the same story, to reinvent rock.".
After turning off the stereo, I go to my bed hoping it was all a dream. I hope he wakes up soon.
