Storms

    Water felt good. Even the cold that had descended from the clouds was nice on the skin and bones. Everything seemed alien in a way, covered by the storm and a fog that was thick and somber. Sitting on a bench in the park didn’t feel like something normal, but so wasn’t the absence of people or of any kinds of sounds. It seemed as if the world had lost all of its inhabitants in a single moment and it was glorious. He sat there, not minding anything but the was happening right then and there. It was amazing.

 There were no birds, no dogs or cars turning the corner. There were no people talking on cellphones or others talking loudly with their coworkers. There were no babies or children or teenagers whose hormones made even more sounds than the storm. No one else was around. Only rainfall made noise and, occasionally, a thunder or two would break the peace, as if it was announcing its presence and power. All of that was beautiful and very special and something people would rarely stop to really perceive.

 Granted, storms like that one were not that common, even in the rainy season. But people should’ve taken advantage of them more often because, it almost seems that you can listen to deeper sounds when you have the chaos and calm of a storm. It’s almost as if you could listen to yourself, to what your deep feelings are really telling you. It’s such a peaceful state and place to be that it becomes almost as a temple. Of course, prayer is not mandatory but you could do that if you wanted to, if it was up to you.

 The man was drenched, from top to bottom. He wore a hat that was now almost black because of the water, a t-shirt, jeans and sneakers. Everything was flooded with water. Yet, he seemed to be thinking, he seemed to be really taking advantage of the moment. Maybe he didn’t get to meditate a lot at home or maybe it was just a way to breathe a little before the end of the storm came, which would eventually come. He seemed to feel every drop of rain on his body, every single water stream coming down his limbs.

 Two consecutive thunders and their lightings lit up the sky and made it look so different; that it was a shame more people weren’t outside enjoying nature. Sadly, people only learn to love when they get something in return and that includes nature. If she behaves in a way that its natural but that takes away something from mankind, then humans do not want anything to have with it and they even declare war against it. Humans never really learn to enjoy things as they are. Instead, they want to world to be what their image of it is in their brains, and that image is almost always highly inaccurate.

 The storm continued for several hours. Eventually, silence was broken by cars and people running to them and buses and trains and planes, in order to get home safe and hopefully fast. Then, at night, silence came again. The darkness made it all even more silent, more serious in a way. Now that most people were at home, relaxing in the world that they had build for themselves, they really didn’t care at all about what was happening outside their homes, not even caring if there were people like them outside, the less fortunate.

 In general terms, they really were unfortunate souls. They had difficult access to every single thing that a human being needed to survive and they didn’t have a home, which would cause several problems for any normal human being. However, they were much more in touch with nature than other people. They loved to have animals on their side and they learned from their surroundings about how to survive many things. Nature taught them everything they needed to know, if they listened and paid any attention.

 At those hours of the night, no one would do the same thing that the man did during the day. No one would sit on a park bench and just wonder about life, not even if the night was perfectly clear and warm. The weather came in second or even third after the dangers of the city. They could be deprived of any soul and dangerous because of those people that have evolved to feel they permanently need to take away from others. It’s a disease that many have inside their brains and it grows and cannot ever be eradicated.

 As they say: “once a thief, always a thief”. And it’s a true saying because no one really stops being something like that. Once you think you have the right to take someone else’s belongings, you will never stop perceiving the world like that. It’s not that some steal because they are poor, less fortunate or just hate society and everything in it. No, it’s because they have gotten used to it, they have started to like scaring people in parks at night, cornering them and threatening their life. They have become addicts to that feeling.

 It is power that they love and even during storms at night, they will come out and try to cure their obsession by doing the only thing they feel they know what to do. They can be caught by police and send to jail for a short time, but that rush will not come down. Once you’ve felt power, you just cannot let go, especially in a world where only a few fortunate souls really do have power, mostly in the form of money. If someone outside that circle gets to feel a little bit of that, they simply become remarkably obsesses and they continue fulfilling that rush until they can’t, for one reason or the other.

 Anyway, stormy nights belong to no one, just as stormy days. No one can claim them; no one really knows how to describe the feeling of it all, how special it really is to finally being able to talk to your real self and to connect with nature. It’s different for everyone; so one experience is not really similar to any other. They are just as us humans, similar in key aspects but vastly different in what really counts. And that’s a fact that nature imbued into us, making us realize how really complex life is.

 The same feeling can be experienced when snow begins to fall or when you experience the natural darkness of the wild. You can also fill it when you dive deep into the water or when you swim in the ocean. It’s just something that is more than all of us combined, something that we can only experience privately. If we do feel it, if we really achieve that point, we will simply find it very complicated to use appropriate words to describe what it’s all about. After all, it really is a personal experience, different for each one of us.

 We have been led to believe that, as humans, we are precious and very special. And a way, we are, because we exist out of pure luck. We just happened, like a miracle, and now we are here doubting every single thing that surrounds us or worst, no even stopping to look at our surroundings. We believe that our brains are a masterpiece but most of us rarely use them properly because we just don’t have to. The world has stopped trying and now we just have to do a small amount of things to be a successful human.

 Of course, that is only in rich countries. In the rest of the world it is even worse because we still think we are miracles but we do not see any advantages of that anywhere. We try and try and try and nothing works and that’s how people get frustrated and they do whatever comes first in their heads.  So, that special part of us is just useless, like having the world’s most expensive object but not being able to sell it because it has become something more than just a very expensive object, whatever it might be.

 What really makes us special is how we choose to live life and how we decide to learn about ourselves. Thinking and precisely using the tools we were giving at birth is precisely what makes us special, not just having those tools. Anyone can do anything but not all of us can do it the right way.

 So just go out into the storm, drench yourself in water and make yourself feel. All those other things are not us, all those objects and people. They do not matter when don’t even know where we are and who we are. In order to live properly, we should really learn to look inside and around ourselves.

Stupidity

   The moment I came out of the water, I felt I was being allowed to live for some more time. It had been torture to swim to such depths in order to enter that cave, which acted as a secret hideout for those people. They appeared to have mastered the art of diving but I had no idea what was going to happen, so my reaction when we finally got there was entirely comprehensible. I think that even they thought so, because they let me cough and curse for a while, until everyone was inside the cave.

 Then, as before, they drew out their guns and pointed at me. They had kept them in tightly sealed bags and now they could use them again to threaten my life. The crazed man that had pushed into the water was the closest ones and water pressure had done nothing to eliminate the crazy face he was looking at me with. I knew he was just working for his boss, making sure everything happened according to plan. But I hated him nevertheless, for his weakness and his lack of interest for anything else than his boss.

 We started walking through the rock, the path illuminated with small lamps pierced into the cave itself. Someone had spent their time doing that, making the place seem like some sort of secret lair, which reminded me of movie villains, the kind that twist their moustaches and laugh in the most horrible and hilarious way. But this man was not one of those villains, he was much worse and he was capable of things no one would even imagine, things that no comic book villain would ever do.

 He had used the natural caves of that region of the Mexican coastline, to hide whenever someone came too close to his dealing and business. The amount of drugs he sent to every corner of the world was simply baffling. I had the chance of seeing some of the packages they were preparing and it was simply too much to send without the authorities noticing something strange. And yet, they managed to do it and sell millions and millions of dollars a year with such a rentable business. It was scary.

 And there I was, in the middle of all of it, just because of a mistake. Just because I had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but also because I had allowed someone to take advantage of my stupidity. I promised never to fall for that again, but those kinds of promises are always empty and stupid, because most times people do not learn from their mistakes and I have no reason to be the exception to the rule. This wasn’t the first time I did something wrong, but it was the first time it had such serious consequences. It was obvious I could be killed at any moment and why I hadn’t was making me uncomfortable.

 We finally got to a nice open gallery, where it was very cold and humid. The crazed man ordered me to stand still while some of the other men went ahead and checked if everything was fine. I just stood there, dripping wet still, trying to understand it all. Because it was obvious I should’ve been killed hours earlier but I hadn’t. Someone had prevented that from happening and I needed to know why. It was obvious their boss was the one who knew most, if not all, the answers and I had to speak to him.

 We were given clearance and moved ahead in moments. The next room was surprisingly lit by natural sunlight and had a pool of blue water in the middle. It was an outstanding view. So surprising in fact, that the crazy guy hit me with his gun because I had stopped to appreciate the space without his permission. He made my ribs feel broken, but I had to resist the pain and just walk on. We finally got to another illuminated room but this one was much larger and had no water in the middle. And he was there.

 Their boss was not the kind of man who I thought would be running an operation like that one. Maybe because the boss was not a man, but a woman. She had olive skin and curves that would have made her into a model in the eyes of any expert. However, she was delegating tasks and had a big gun strapped to her side. I also noticed a knife on her right sheen and a couple of scars all over her body. The woman had seen her fair share of battle and one would think that’s why she was fighting back.

 When she noticed me, she walked straight to the crazy eyed man and demanded her to tell him why they had taken so long. They started arguing about thing I did not understand, and I remembered I was in a place I didn’t fully comprehend.  I knew that they were dealing with drugs and that the man that had taken me there, to the coast, had been working with them, but that was it. It was not like he told me everything that was going on in his life. He had used deceit to take me there and I had fallen for it.

 She finally looked at me but didn’t say a word, she just smiled. Then, she ordered her men to bring a present she had prepared for me. I was very scared when I heard the word “present”. From someone like her, it was probably something not very pleasant and far from what a normal person would call “a present”. I stood frozen on the same spot, looking at her looking at me. It made me nervous but, somehow, it also disgusted me. It was as if I could feel what kind of person she was only by looking at her. And if my feeling were correct, she was simply the worst.

 Finally, the present was brought it. And it was none other than him, the man that had taken me with him to a luxurious vacation to the Mexican Riviera. I had been easy and stupid enough to accept, not seeing his probable true intentions. He was beaten up, his face all covered in bruises and cuts. But he was breathing and was apparently able to use his eyes because he stared at me and just said my name. He must have thought I was there to save him or something, as if I could do that.

 The woman came closer and explained that she knew everything that had happened. The man, a drug dealer, was her link to many mafias and other criminal organizations around the world. That’s why he travelled far and wide, making connections to strengthen their sales in other countries. He would often get men to help him, by making them think he was in love with them or at least very sexually attracted to him. And according to the woman, that ploy had worked surprising well for years.

 Apparently, many men had come before me, thinking they were there to enjoy the beach and the beauty of the region, only to realize that they were going to be used as drug mules or would be forced to work as dealers, under threat against themselves and their families. Some of those men were even closeted and that was another way to pressure them into doing whatever the organization wanted them to do. And others were just junkies, that would do anything in order to have at least some of the merchandise.

 He didn’t say a word after she finished talking about him and his men and his boys. He didn’t say a word. And he could’ve, even if it was hard to understand him. But he didn’t say a word. I had no idea what to do. I was trapped and would have to do whatever they wanted me to do know. They owned me because I hadn’t been strong enough to refuse his advances. I had been distracted by his looks and his charm. Stupidity runs wild in humans and especially in jaded men.

 She looked at me and, without saying one more word; she pulled out her gun and blew his head off in front of me. I gasped, but did not scream. His body fell lifeless on the floor, staining the beautiful clear rock with the darkness of the blood. The crazy eyed man grabbed the body and soon disappeared.

 The woman walked towards me and grabbed my face. She wanted to take a good look. For a moment, I thought I was dead, but then she called two men and told them to escort me to the airport. I would leave and never talk of anything I had seen there. She didn’t threaten me, she just knew I wouldn’t talk.

Only a superhero

   I could see the city, all of its lights moving beneath me. The avenues looked like serpents, wiggling about in all directions. And people were undistinguishable in the darkness of the night. Street lamps illuminated some of the areas but not all of them, so it was pretty obvious that there were patches of greater darkness within the city. In one of those, I had been caught and brought to that place, to the highest point of a tower that overlooked everything, like the mighty lair of some comic book villain.

 But the person that had brought me there was not exactly that. He was actually one of the people you might call “a good guy”. It was me who was being thought of as a villain. According to him, and to the organization he worked for, what I did could be understood as an act of treason against my own country, for which I could be detained and processed, ultimately landing in some awful prison where my fortune would be sealed. I had already gone through it in my mind, again and again.

 However, I hadn’t predicted him to bring me to that place. True, the building held several offices for his government entity, but ordinary criminals would never go there, least of all to be incarcerated there temporarily. It was obvious that something else was going on and I had no idea what that was about. So I had to pretend I was very certain of everything and the best way to do that was avoiding answering questions that could let them know how much I didn’t know. It was some sort of cat and mouse game.

 Him and his partner, a younger woman, tried to interrogate me for what seemed like hours but I was too good for them. They couldn’t get anything from me, nothing more than what they already knew. I couldn’t pretend I hadn’t been the one to hack into many of their offices, but I wasn’t going to tell them anymore than that. After all, I lived in the shadows; I knew how to move among the scum of the Earth. They just thought they knew how, but they had barely seen a glimpse of what the world hides beneath the surface.

 They left me alone after a couple of hours. They held me in a room that overlooked the city. It must have looked like a normal office from the outside but from the inside it was pretty much like any other cell. It had bars and a bunk bed and somewhere to piss if I wanted to. It even had that kind of door that has the little window in order to pass food through. That reminded me I was very hungry, but I didn’t ask for anything because that could be used by them to try to pull things from me. So I decided to take a nap instead, trying to take advantage of the lack of sound around the cell.

 It was the next day when his companion came and brought me something to eat. She was very nice, very cute, obviously with no experience whatsoever in her field. Maybe she had passed the tests and all of the training, but it was obvious she wasn’t exactly the top agent around. As I grabbed the tray with food, she sat on the other side of the bars and told me that some others had been captured. I just ate, pretending I hadn’t heard her. But I did and I wanted to know everything. It was important to know.

 She told me about the raid on the warehouses we operated from and how many of our computers had been seized. Yet, she knew very well no one would get one document from all of those. Of course, we always knew when they were close and our systems would erase themselves in an instant if that were the case. But it was intriguing that she knew so much, for such a rookie agent. I kept on eating; it was toast and scrambled eggs with a small yogurt and a glass of orange juice. Much like a plane meal.

 I drank a bit of juice as she stood up and got closer to the bars, just looking at me. I looked back at her, defiant. I didn’t trust her at all and it was obvious she was posing as this silly little woman, when in reality she could be even more dangerous than the guy that had actually caught up with me. So I finished my meal as soon as I could and then just put the tray on the place in front of the little window. She looked at me for a bit longer and then grabbed the empty tray and left. I could hear her heels walking away.

 Lying on my back, I wondered what she could be up to. Maybe she had been set by her partner to intimidate me in some way, but it didn’t make any sense. He was the one with the experience to do so. Even if he wanted to throw me off, I believe he was the kind of man that wants recognition for getting things done. Besides, it was obvious he had a certain obsession with the whole case. There were men and women killing and raping all over town and he was obsessed with a few hackers trying to make things a bit better.

 When I began hacking computers, I did it for fun of course. In order to help friends get better grades in school or maybe just blackmail someone in order to give me some money. Yes, it was illegal and wrong and stupid. And I will never say those were my best moments. However, I discovered another layer to the whole thing when this chick in college introduce me to several of her friends and got into the real hacking world. Big bank accounts and the most private and so-called safe websites in the world. And we could just enter and take whatever we wanted. Just like that.

 At the start, they only wanted to go in for the money. And yeah, as a kid that had no money to pay for a decent school, I wanted to have my pockets filled with bills and coins. But then, I realized I could do so much more with all my skills. My first move was to get rid of my money problem, and I did that in a semi-legal way. I hacked into several stock market systems and found out the best way to make money in there. So I invested some money and saw it flourish in a few days. I can say I’m rich now, but I don’t.

 Because my next step was the one that got me where I am now. It was the step that made me run away from home and live with a bunch of strangers in filthy storage warehouses. I decided it was time to give something back to the community that I had use in my advantage. So I grabbed my keyboard and started going around the dark web, taking jobs as a hacker for hire. I would only do things that I thought were “good” or that they will make things fair and make justice prevail above all.

 I guess you could call it my Batman phase or something. The point is, I did that for at least two years. I helped parents get the men and women that had assaulted their children, I helped children find their parents in the midst of war and I even helped people get out of very difficult situations. I couldn’t be with them the whole time but it was my job as a hacker that saved their lives. I cannot shy away from the truth: I did save lives and made the world a better place. And yet, I end up in a cell.

 Maybe my earlier mistakes are too serious or maybe they just don’t like people being better than them. However, none of that explained why I was in that building or why was it taking them so long to send me to an actual jail. I was getting impatient and that’s not good for a person that expends his days sitting down in front of a computer, playing superhero on the information superhighway. When I heard the heels again, I stood up in a second and waited to see her face, her voice taunting me again.

 But she didn’t. She opened the door and asked me to step outside. Then, she asked that I follow her. I could have overpowered her but there were so many agents around, it would have been impossible to escape. I was free from shackles or handcuffs, but I was still a prisoner walking who knows where.

 She brought me in front of a bunch of people, mostly men, lead by the agent that had caught me. He was looking very pissed. It was the woman who talked. She said they were offering me work, in exchange for not putting me in jail. My reaction surprised more than one person there: I laughed out loud, proud.

My truth

   The moment I came out from the interview, I took out one my cigarettes and lit it up right there, in front of the office building. There was no one there doing the same thing, so of course people looked at me as if I was the strangest thing they had ever done, almost as if they had never even seen a human smoking in their lives. Maybe it was my clothes or the way I was standing up or maybe the fact that it was obvious I didn’t belong there. Maybe they were very good at looking through people and knowing their truth.

 I didn’t stay long to figure it out. With my cig on my mouth, I walked towards the bus stop. I didn’t really want to go back home so soon, so I wasn’t precisely running to grab the bus. I stood a bit far from the bus stop in order to finish the cigarette, as I thought of the questions they had asked me and the answers I had given. My truth right then and there was that I wanted to scream, to run away and just put my head inside a hole in the ground. I was frustrated and tired and just fed up with everything around me.

 My bus came in too fast, so I had to put off my cigarette. Luckily, the bus was not as filled up as it could have been. I was a bit pissed off that I had to pay for it, only because I knew going to that stupid interview had been a waste of time. The same thing had happened that year, once and again and again and again. Sometimes it was in places close to my home but I mostly had to travel by bus in order to just feel like an imbecile once I got to the actual interview. I had to sit there and pretend I knew shit about shit.

 Somehow, I had learned to pretend and lie in many parts of my life, but never in situations like interviews. Actually, more than not knowing how to do it, I think it was something related to not having the same mindset than the people doing the interview. I knew I wasn’t one of them. And I don’t mean it like saying I’m better or something like that. I’m certainly not better. But the point is we weren’t understanding each other because we were two very different types of people who could never connect at any level.

 That happened to me in every interview, from the moment I came out of college until today, six years later. Six years and I have never had a steady job because people won’t hire me. Maybe it’s lack of enthusiasm or maybe it’s just that I don’t have any skills or knowledge that can be applied in a “useful” job. And I live in a country were jobs are a precious thing, not really offered in every corner. And yet, some people get them and stay in them for several years or maybe all of their lives. And here I am, over thirty now, jobless and still wondering if I will ever be able to live by myself.

 As I step down the bus, a couple of blocks away from my house, I decide to take my ass to the nearest park. I have no need to hear my mother’s questions about the interview or feel how my dad looks at me knowing that I’m a complete and utter failure. No, I need to mix it up a little bit and maybe the park has exactly what I need. If I was a pothead, I would consider smoking there for a while but I cannot even have an interesting hobby like that one. I’m very boring and just sit there by myself.

 There are many guys walking dogs and old ladies also doing the same thing. I get obsessed for a while with people picking up their dogs businesses. Then, I remember why I’m there and my world just crumbles again. I feel the need to cry but I really don’t want to. I’m tired of having done that so many times in the past. It’s like I’m dried up, just too damn tired to shed one more tear into this ungrateful fucking world. I’d rather just stay put and think about something else, escape from everything once again.

 Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. Why doesn’t that faggot just commit to something and start changing his ways? Why doesn’t he just become whatever it is that people are looking for in a worker? I mean, that’s what people do: they pretend to be this superhuman in order to be considered for anything from a job to a damn relationship. Fuck, even people that want to fuck each other lie about many things in order to get laid. So what’s up with this guy? Why doesn’t he just do what everybody else does and shut up?

 Well, I can’t. I physically can’t. I cannot pretend forever, I cannot work in something I despise or don’t even have an interest in. Of course I don’t have that luxury, to like what I work in. I don’t and I know that. But even in that case I just feel like I have no other option but being this sack of gas and shit that biology turned me into. I cannot just acquire all of those things that people have because it’s a case of you have it or you don’t. At least it is for me, from my point of view.

 Of course, you people are just thinking: “Who the fuck does this guy think he is? Why doesn’t he just do something, like all the rest of us do?” And the real answer to that is that I don’t have a fucking clue why I don’t do that, why I don’t just turn into someone else and become this being that everyone wants to be connected with. But I can’t. I have failed as a human male, I know that. And I’m trying to reconcile with that in a world that doesn’t give a fuck about individuals, where the group is always much more important than anything you might be feeling in your little weak head.

 When I realize it, it’s almost completely dark. The lamps on the park illuminate everything in the creepiest way and it does remind me that this city is filled with rapists, murderers, robbers and, the worst part, stupid fuckers. So I stand up and walk a few blocks towards home. I prepare in my mind phrases to tell my mother and my father. As I enter the building and press the elevator button, the sense of dread enters my soul once again. I feel awful, like crying once again, but I just don’t do it. What good will that make?

 I enter home and, as predicted, she asks me about how it went and my father looks at me over his glasses. I just say whatever thing it was that I prepared and then excuse myself because I really want to pee. And it’s true, but I also want to run away from there because I have no need to watch them look at me. I feel parents can really see through their children, even if they decide to buy the lies you tell them as their sons and daughters. Parents always know, in one way or the other, and that has always scared me.

 I enter the bathroom, close the door and pull out my penis. As I pee, I look myself at the mirror and see someone I don’t completely like. It’s not only his looks that I have always hated, but also the fact that he cannot be the person that everyone wants him to me, that he needs to be in order to survive this motherfucking world. Look at him, staring back at me with those depressing little eyes and that fucking brain that’s only filled with garbage. I can say I sometimes despise him to death.

 And his looks. He cannot even get anyone to fuck him and there is no doubt why. Never mind the tiny dick, just look at his face. He looks sick and oily, just disgusting. He finishes peeing, washes his hands in seconds and leaves. I enter my room and just fall on my bed. Again, I want to cry and scream and yell and hit and kick. But I can’t. I know nothing of the sorts will help me be whoever it is I’m supposed to be. It just won’t and I don’t know what to do next, when to just quit for good. It seems like the obvious choice.

 How many times can I stand being rejected for a job interview? For how long can I wait until I understand that no one will ever hire me to do anything? Am I resistant enough to last like this forever? Should I even keep doing that now, that I know the reality of who I am and my possibilities?

 I fall asleep and wake up in the middle of night. My mother apparently understood it all, because she didn’t wake me up or nothing. It’s four in the morning and my thoughts race through my head. I’m trying to stay in control, but sometimes it is taken from you and there’s nothing you can do about it.