“Your name?” asked a Cerberus put to control the entry area. “I’m Barbara, delegate number 12365. I have been charged to clean the second floor, area Z”. “Let me check” grunted the giant guard. After a few seconds he continued: “yes, you’re on the list. Cross through!”. Barbara noticed he had one of those collars, one of which acted like deterrent against attempts to fleed away, you tried to hit a woman and it activated giving a powerful electric shock. She felt a bit of displeasure toward him but in the meantime, a very fundamental thing came in mind: she had to ask about the African woman, it was part of her assignment. “Excuse me, soldier, I have a question for you: There should be here another cleaner, Chanya here name, Can I ask when she starts her shift?”. The big man scrolled down the list on the screen and replied: “She has the night shift, in the same your sector, you’ll see her during the passage of turn, but you can’t exchange words with her, she’s a special observed, under strict surveillance”. Barbara thanked and crossed through the metallic door which protected the sad structure named: Factory Number One. A long inox corridor extended from there, conducting toward the different subdivisions. It was deprived of windows, therefore, even if it didn’t leave the possibility to see the slaves toiling at work, anyway gave the chance to hear everything through the soft metallic walls. Sight, tears and other lamentations sweated from those barriers, mixed with machine noises and mechanical crackles, all in a macabre song. Barbara hurried up to avoid remaining longer in the walkaway. She knew very well that Factory Number One was destined for the production of electronic chips, in turn necessary for the assembly of phones, laptops, headphones, screens, etc… it was the largest compared to the other structures as well as piece de resistance of the company which obviously had like majority shareholders Madame Elizabeth and Madame Margaret.
Barbara came at the end of the frightful tunnel but the interior of Area Z wasn’t better at all. A tasteless series of green polystyrene panels covered everything from the floors, passing to the sheets, till ending to the ceilings. The ensemble created a dizzy sense in her, almost a state of confusion. Anyway, the most disgusting thing was the smell, a horrific odor of detergent that got difficult the breathing. She thought that only the jails were worst of that place and she knew well it because she had been in prison for a long period of time. Abruptly, the terrible past grew up in her as an inside force untamed and uncontainable, and consequently, the same force flowed outside as happens when you conserve something painfull underskin and you can no more hold back it:
“One after the other, in line, come on!” cried the warden in a harsh way. A young Barbara was cued with nineteen other girls, with handcuffs to block every attempt of fleeing. They crept silently in a macabre dance toward the end of the line where surged a desk, above which the severe look of the chief in charge checked and judged. “You!” said this latter turning toward the first woman, “Name, guilty and personal objects!” demanded in an ordering tone. “Abigail, theft, wallet and bracelets”. Ok, give everything to the surveillant, sign here, and goes ahead for the inspection. Next! Name, guilty and personal objects”. The sequence continued in that way until Barbara, who was scrutinized seriously by the awful woman. “Name, guilty and personal objects”. “Barbara, political dissent, a wallet and a pendant”. “Ahhh, political dissent, so you’re one of those who hates The Party, right? Miss reasoning and thinking, right!? Well, here we’ll teach you how to behave, give everything to the surveillant, sign here and goes ahead for the inspection”. Next, she stopped and turning on the surveillant said: “you, withdraw her the pendant and leave only the wallet”. Barbara cried: “That’s not correct, all the others…”. “All the others have received a different treatment but for you, I have decided otherwise, I wish you a good stay!”. Barbara was taken away meantime the harsh chief was already past to the next woman. They transported her into a huge room with the tailing entirely of the same grey color, and among the other prisoners, she was forced to undress. The personal effects were confiscated and, as ordered, meantime the wallet was put into the package of things to return, the pendant has reposed into another, who knows where directed. But the suffering was not finished, the guards pushed the group of bare bodies into one corner and there watered them with an ice jet. It raised a series of shouting and growls, and after a minute the clamor was finished, it remained a bunch of pale bodies numb, with the goosebumps, and the eyes stiff. Barbara could feel the presence of other nudities rubbing every part of her, in a condition never experienced before then. It wasn’t even possible to feel ashamed at the sight of other naked people, because the confusion was so extreme that the thoughts couldn’t flow out but only to remain sheltered inside. She picked up the look tangling it with the empty one of another woman beside her, she could listen to her breath, so slow and strong, almost missing of a soul. They received a series of rugs spotted and probably used many times, with which they dried themselves before being escorted till the cells, across a long narrow walkaway that stank, stank of the same smell of Factory Number One.
Barbara noticed that she had arrived at the entrance to the stairs for the second floor.
“Finally a free time”, thought Linda relaxed. It was Saturday and Emily has gone to the nearby city-center to visit some monuments, characteristics of the place. Linda looked forward to it, in a certain way she had enough of her presence, always as attached and annoying, even if certainly kind and gentle. A bit of leisure was necessary to recover from the harsh work done during the week and to spend a bit of time with her thoughts. The program was established: to chill out entirely without doing nothing, to lay on a sunbathe-bad, maybe reading a good romance or some sort of vegan cookbook, she didn’t know yet. The weather was quite good even if it was a few days that it was changed a bit, with some gloom clouds which thickened on the horizon. Her body adhered to the sunlounger and laid there, posed on the velvety surface. Just beside stayed a woman’s bag and Linda reached out the hand, digging inside and extracting a book with a green cover on it. The title was: The Pervert’s Guide To The Modern Life by J.C.King. She browsed pages until she arrived at the point where she had left the bookmark and from there continued to read. The narration was extremely thrilling and wrapping, so sympathetic with her life, as if everything was in part caught by events actually experienced. The memory’s part of her brain had been stimulated too. Instantly, contemporary with the facts that followed the plot, she relived her past, like two movies associated with a split-screen divided into two sections. In one section there was the sense of the words, in the other section the images of her life. At a certain point, she found a paragraph about the necessity of rebellion against the bad government which has substituted religion like the doctrine of the people. Whether this doctrine has reduced to silence whatever form of contraposition and dissonant idea, it was the duty of a good citizen to change the state of things. It was all so correct, so clean and, in the end, so real…
“Run Barbara! Run! They are approaching us; we have to move! If we get to the next alley we’ll be safe, I parked there my car!”. The two girls were running at breakneck speed in the middle of a narrow street, bordered by glass edifices resembling one to other. Behind them, a bunch of soldiers was pursuing threateningly. They wore blue suits and bulletproof harnesses, grabbing strictly submachine guns in hands. Behind the helmet popped up a short haircut, the sign of difference between people and administrators, between those which were members of The Party or relevant economic figures, and the everyday folk.
Every form of extremism is wrong said the power, and it’s right in a certain way, but the only reason it says so it’s to maintain the status quo, to control the propaganda and the dealing of the citizens. If you are sure of correctness of which you’re doing you have to fight for express your values, your creeds because they either deserve to exist!
Abruptly Linda cried: “They are getting closer, we can’t do it”. “There are no other choices”, replied heavily Barbara, if they catch us we are finished. The alley it’s not very far, you have to trust me, in no time we’ll be there”. But the situation was critic, the police guards were every second closer and another platoon was arriving the give help to the first and to encircle the area. Barbara had understood that and was aware of the fact Linda couldn’t support the rhythm longer. Indeed, this latter started to decelerate, the sister could hear her heavy breathe, difficult, syncopated, loser. It was all her’s fault if it had been for Linda nothing would have succeeded, it was her mistake and she had to remediate. Instantly Barbara changed direction, pouncing against the assailants. “What are you doing!” yelled Linda with the scarce energies remained, “They’ll kill you”. At the time, Barbara extracted a gun from the jacket’s lining, and promptly aimed the arm toward the police guards. “Go ahead Linda, I order you”. “Absolutely not”, replied the other, “there is no chance that I leave you here, without help”. “Please! You have time to save yourself arriving at the car, but the only possibility to get it It’s if I delay their chase. Remember, we have a task and at least one of us must perform it!”. The tears started to slide down on the girl’s cheeks, Barbara was right, she had to leave her there. The armed forces had scattered on the area, at the sideways of the street, two components behind a rubbish bin and the other squatted in some recesses of the buildings. “Here the chief in charge. I order you to drop the gun and come here picking up the hand, slowly!”. “I’ll miss you, Barbara!”. “I’ll miss you too Emily”. The armed woman shot some bullet in the air, doing lower all the police and Linda took the time to vanish rapidly behind the corner conducting to the car’s alley. “Second platoon, there is a fugitive, she is directing in a dead-end alley, pursuit her, we think to the other and…”. The words had been interrupted by another sequence of shots, after which Barbara realized she had no more bullets. The heart ran as never in life, she has given to her sister the time to escape, now it does not remain other that the surrender. She was aware that likely they would have shot to her, but that was destiny. She closed the eyes and creeped out in the middle of the street, dropping down the arm and picking up the hands as ordered. The police didn’t move, and she sensed every single moment of that waiting, like a sentenced to death in front of the executioners. But they seemed to take time, maybe minding about some dangerous surprise, instead, with the big surprise of Barbara, they came out and approached her without pointing the arms. One of them pulled out a pair of handcuffs and locked with them the woman’s wrists. “You’re in big trouble, you’ll finish to the jail for a long period!”. Meantime she was uttering so, the abruptly screeching of wheels surrounded in air. Linda was in the car! The protruding logo of a turtle, surging on the windscreen, was like an aim ready to hit everybody would appear in front of. She accelerated, leaving back a cloud of smoke, meantime the second platoon has arrived. Two policewomen tried to block the fugitive but had to shift aside for not being knocked down. The turtle logo run, turning right and left, going away from there, but the driver knew well that her sister was allegedly lost forever.
“Hello!” said a gentle voice. Linda, who was either laying on the deckchair turned around and saw the shape of Emily waving with the hand. “I’m backed earlier of the established, that’s not a problem, right?”. “Not at all”, she replied, hiding the book another time into the bag.
Emily backed into the house and Linda followed her with an annoyed facial expression. Abruptly Emily, who was crossing now the threshold, turned around and for a second time stared the woman that finally could call friend, she did it with a fond look, but which was at the same time, and in a certain way, creepy. Linda smiled back, trying to squeeze the strange vibes created and, like a direct consequence, the second uttered: “What do you think to come to see how I organized my room? I sorted everything from the posters to bookshelves, it’s very pretty, I retain you’ll appreciate it”. Linda didn’t know how to hide that she had no desire to do it, but her face did the lying work that her mind was unable to do and a little smile drew on her face. Emily returned the smile and enlarged the arms as to show the direction.
They walked a flight of stairs to arrive in the girl’s room which was the second on the right, once arrived on the corridor. The two girl’s steps posed softly on the wooden floor, rough as the person’s style who dwelled in that house. Finally, they arrived in front of the door and Emily asked: “are you ready”. Maria nodded and, with a squeaking of hinges, the space appeared. A flash of light hit the women’s look, Linda knew well that room had the largest window of all the building, and that it was in a position always sunny, nonetheless, that incredible amount of energy surprised her, compelling to protect her face with the hands. She took a few minutes to adapt the sight of the chromatic situation but once happened a sad spectacle spread in front of. The walls were filled with images of the Party, except for a series of friend’s photos in ludicrous positions. The childish face of a university student, made up of funny wigs, pink and yellow, or with giant sunglasses in disproportionate dimensions, stayed next to a series of grave pictures of Party’s quote and member’s photos. “Ta daaa!” yelled Emily all eager to hear the friend’s opinion about the furniture, in fact, she didn’t delay to explain: “I show you, look here, on the bed, this is my teddy bear, I have it since I was a child, it had been the support for many sad moments. And look to this other stuff! My alarm, it shapes like a rabbit and when it rings you have to press back the ears in way to stop it, ingenious!”. “Absolutely”, remarked Linda almost without interest. Emily perceived the not enthusiastic vibes and reinvigorated the fervor of his explanation: “look the carpet here, I bought it in a famous London shopping center, I went there with my friends because…”. Linda’s attention was drawn by the photo of a person, an elegant woman rigid and austere with a drilling look, almost hypnotic. “She’s Elen”, said Emily, who has noticed the shift of attention of the friend, “She is the chief in charge of the party, The Prime Minister now, amazing woman, incredible brain! Mind that one time I met her. We were in an award party in my high school and Helen was there to deliver the medals to winners, among which there was I. It had been an unforgettable moment, I was wondering if I’d held back the emotion but in a certain way, I was sure to be worth it and so, I wasn’t afraid. Linda, are you listening to me?”. “Yes, sure I’m only yet a bit dazed by the sun, I know well who is Elen, I once met her too”. Her voice seemed feeble maybe not sure about what she was saying and so, afraid that Emily could understand that, changed the topic, even if not completely. “You are full of members images; your mother is devoted as much?”. “Certainly, and even more. Till when we were young, she took me to all the events organized by them. I tell you a funny anecdote, when I was more or less a little child, I was used taking long hairs exactly like the party’s members did and do yet today. I dreamt to be one of them, one of those that organize things and regulate the rules of our perfect society”. Her eyes had filled with tears, melted with the fragments of memories. Thus, to not disturb her personal engagement and interior conflict, Maria took leave using the excuse she had some works to do for the house, and quietly went back along the corridor already made.
Some minutes later she was reached at the ground floor by the guest, completely restored after the precedent blow-up of emotion. “Can I help you in some way”, ask her with an inquisitive tone. “It’s not necessary”, replied Linda, “I’m only preparing the degreaser with vinegar and baking soda”. “The degreaser?” replied surprised the other, “I’ve never seen somebody producing it at home instead of buying it in the supermarket. Only you could do it”, concluded with irony Emily. Linda smiled back and poured carefully the liquid into a plastic jug, recycled appositely for the purpose. When she finished, she said: “Actually, I do it with all the house products not only this one. I develop a self-production also of toothpaste, dishwasher detergent, soaps, and you remember the skin-cream I lent to you?”. The other’s face opened in a surprise expression: “Don’t say me that it was your fabrication! I found that amazing! I can imagine it’s incredibly difficult to produce such things”. “The opposite, it’s simpler than what people mind, most of them are obtainable from a few basic substances easily buying everywhere. I guarantee you that economic saving is extremely advantageous without speaking of the positive implications relate to the ecological perspective. The use of polluting packaging, in my way, is reduced at a minimum, and I apply the same politic with grocery shopping. For example, I try to live on what my fields give me and, for all those stuff that I can’t afford, I entrust myself to fair trade purchasing groups. These latter give you the chance to buy stock of products, jumping the supermarket’s distribution passage, so that to save money and avoid that the foods were undergone to a large number of wheel-transports”. Emily has remained silent to hear what the friend had to say, almost ravish from the passion printed in the words.
That night they supped early and after a rapid as well as reciprocal goodnight, both directed toward their rooms. When Emily entered there, locked the door as was not used to do normally, and with circumspection wandered restlessly around the room. Next, as if she had made a decision, laid on the bed and pulled out the phone starting to dial something on the keyboard. She adored Linda, but it was since that morning that she wondered why the woman was so distant when they spoke about The Party. It was like something of the argument annoyed her, and she wanted to discover what. Maybe it was possible to gather some information about her past on the Dark List Site. It was a branch of the party’s internet platform where were located all the people arrested for political crimes. Their lives and information were there, below everyone’s look, and above all, there were the identikit photos of them. Now, whether Linda had had anything to do with the subversive movements, the note was there, it just had to find it. The page opened and Emily shifted the cursor up till the search strip. She digitated the name and waited a moment, undecided of what to do, type or not type. She closed the eyes and took energy, the double click sounded in the air. A list of folders, categorized by a photo, sprawled across the page.
 Sight, tears and other lamentations”, translation of a Dante Alighieri’s verse at the begin of Inferno (Verse 22, Canto III).
 This idea of self-production it has been inspired by a video watched on youtube. I leave here the link for everybody concerned: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fxd40i7JgFk&list=WL&index=29&t=0s