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MAGAZINE - MARCH 2012
through life loving half of the world
and hating the rest without some-
one to be indifferent.
Something like a rebellion starts
to form an explosive complaint in
his throat that came arrogant and
intemperate, while out of context.
-
I will not tolerate that you
curtail my freedom to the indiffer-
ence it is my right! - Shouted his
voice echoed through the halls.
-
I do not know what you
are talking about - said the man in
gray - but I ca assure you, that you
do not have to get angry. I am just
inviting you to see that section.
The man rests his hand on John’s
shoulder, and holds the other in a
polite gesture inviting him to walk
down the aisle on the left.
John began the walk followed by
the man in gray. As he walked,
he began to think of an enormous
number of stacked photos on the
cyclopean shelves with millions
of people faces that had being
forgotten. Perhaps there were gro-
tesque books, telephone directories
with names that were forgotten,
but if the technologic progress had
come to this deposit, it could be
just a computer, with a huge data-
base, which stored the name, the
image, and even a voice record-
ing of those forgotten.
The idea of the database distract-
ed him for a few seconds while
trying to calculate mentally the ten-
tative number of forgotten people,
and according to this, the size of
the database required to store all
that information, the architecture
itself, and type of computer server
that was required to access all,
would be fast enough.
He also imagined a redundant
system that could double or triple,
saving the information to avoid
risks of losses from damage to the
elements used for storage.
He was so absorbed in his cal-
culations that he forgot, for a
moment, the man following him
behind.
He realized when he noted that
only his footsteps were heard in
the hallway. He turned to look
back, but his occasional compan-
ion had disappeared.
He was about to flee when the
voice of the man called him from
down the hall to where he was go-
ing. The blood froze in his veins.
When did he got there that I did
not see?
For a moment, his feet seemed to
be nailed to the ground unable to
take a single step. As he could,
and with weak knees by fear, he
began to walk towards the voice
calling him.
Down the hall lay a new one to
the left and to the right, forming a
huge “T”.
The man in gray called him back
from the hallway on the left, when
John turned his head, before him
laid an inconceivable amount
of what looked like mannequins
dressed and covered by a thick
dust that indicated prolonged stor-
age, each of them sat on individu-
al equally filthy chairs.
The man sitting in a chair wait-
ing for him, obviously, he had just
cleaned it because it looks reason-
ably spotless again.
John’s hands were wet from the
cold sweat that fear produces, but
he would not do the ridiculous role
of a grown man running away
scared by something that simply
did not understand.
-
Okay, I saw the area that
you wanted me to see - he said,
looking at the man sitting across
from him - and as I said before, I
am very late and I have a meet-
ing with my boss who expects
me now. Please do not bother to
walk with me, I will find the exit. I
will see you again any other time.
Goodbye.
He kindly smiled to whom at this
point was sure in charge of the
place and he started to leave, but
his feet did not move.
From the chair, the man spoke to
him:
- I regret that you had forgotten
about me as you walked over
here a few minutes ago, and that
forced me to sit here. I suggest you
stop worrying about your meeting.
As I said before, this is the deposit
of forgotten things, and from the
moment you crossed that door, the
rest of the world forgot about you.
No one is expecting you at any
meeting. Nobody remembers you,
nor ever will remember you again.
The chair next to me is yours. You
will be a good company to chat
while you do not forget how to
speak.
Please… sit down.