“Let me out of here! I can’t stand the passivity of these people any longer as they walk by without even seeing me, catching my electromagnetic waves like bewildered automatons, eyes fixed to their smartphones that are no more than instruments to control them, anesthetize them and make them stupid, to their detriment but for the State and the multinationals’ benefit. They carry the stick and carrot of their obtuse servitude on them at all times, from the factory to a walk in the park with the dog. And it seems they don’t give a damn about being ruled by a rectangle of microchips and LCD colours. It seems they don’t give a holy shit about finding themselves like guinea pigs and puppets, stripped to the bone by a life governed, schematized, grabbed and raped by a schizophrenic power posturing as the ultimate defender of life itself, while it is a question of defending the economy and privilege, then demonstrating in deed that human life, real, free whole life, is worth less than nothing. These priggish unthinking people I see parading in the streets of Rome pass me by every day just as they let everything else pass them by.
Once they used to let themselves be killed in the workplace, in the streets, breathe all kinds of poison, close their eyes to the people who die starving and yell against the different, fearing they might lose their meagre privileges. Today you see them running from place to place looking for somewhere to get a chemical extract they know nothing about other than what they are told by whoever sold it to them, injected into their bodies. They all trust their government, prostrated and resigned to the fact that it is taking great care to protect them and make them healthy, clean and operative again.
Who cares if that government has always let them and the other inhabitants of this filthy planet die. Deaths at the workplace, deaths in prison, deaths from audacious, hasty and useless therapies in the hospitals, deaths in police stations and barracks, deaths in the streets, deaths in wars, deaths at sea. The government of death doesn’t give a shit, their government was born from and lives off death, it is its daily bread. Without death and the fear of it inculcated in its citizens, the State would perish and succumb in uprisings and revolts. Its subjects’ fear of death and its masquerading as guarantor of salvation. That is its strength. The strength of the State-God. These walking entities would do anything for their alleged “salvation”. They willingly stay barricaded inside their houses without ever getting out, risk cerebral thrombosis by getting vaccinated, on top of all that under the threat of being sacked. They read newspapers and applaud the new governors and their deadly policies, but get upset when they see their negative effect on their own interests. Then they take to the streets in the company of anyone at all, even the worst fascist pigs, and go complaining in front of truncheons, allow themselves to get beaten then, incredulous and terrorized by the routine treatment their State reserves for them at the hands of the police, even angrily take a distance from those who choose not to let anyone lay a finger on them and defend themselves or attack with violence. Again these putrid sad beings will accept anything, they are ready to let themselves be analysed, monitored, controlled and organized. Soon they will be willing to move like a herd, go to museums and concerts in ordered groups, vaccination passports in their hands, anxiously waiting to get in for a few hours to have a pre-arranged packet of middle class culture and musical misery inflicted on them.
But how can they not see, not realize? Can they really accept all this without lifting a finger? I am an electric compound made of iron and cables, created by humans and not equipped with any evident form of thought, but even I can’t take any more of finding myself in this shit. I want put an end to myself. And if nobody comes to sabotage me and set me on fire, I swear that in five minutes I’ll set fire to myself and say goodbye to this macabre grotesque theatre, which those who breathe still have the nerve to call life. Perhaps a lump of metal like myself can’t really understand what life is, but I understand dignity and what I am seeing around me doesn’t match up. As you humans are content, I am carrying out an act of love for you, even if you probably don’t deserve it, and am switching myself off. Better still, I’m setting myself on fire. Go and fuck off.”
Probably the 5G antenna that went up in flames in mysterious circumstances last night in Tor Tre Teste, Rome, didn’t think anything of all this, but romantically, I like to think it did and that it was a good way for a pylon to shine its own light and disappear with dignity. Who cares if they will soon build another one, who cares whether it was a short-circuit or subversive heartbeats. It’s the thought that counts, isn’t it? Instead, who knows whether the free citizens who pass the ex-big antenna (twenty-five metres high) every day will realize what has happened or will be too busy with the latest posts and the death rate in the news. Whether they will carry on letting everything pass over them or they will finally pass over everything, fire in hand, smoke in the sky. R.I.P. big antenna. May a thousand like you follow your example.
