Last Line Last Circle

By Massimo Nibbi

Hans Jeger is a nice guy and lives in the 5th South West of the Federation, where only border towns have names. All the others have been numbered according to their position.

Ten Circles, one inside the other. The First is the beating heart of it all, while the Last is the embankment where the outcasts survive the day.

Strict rules establish the assignment of Social Points, points which added together determine the Circle in which to live and the possibility of being able to move from one city to another.

Political power, Economic Corporations, Police, Army, and Inquisition are the cogwheels of a mechanism that seems to have no weak points. Hans Jeger however, despite him, will be able to track down a weak point and, trapped between a sense of duty and conscience, he will risk ending up crushed under those same wheels that were supposed to protect him.

Thanks to its armored helicopters and Inquisitors, deadly as poisonous snakes, the Federation has redesigned a civilization in which its strength appears invincible.

But anyone who has learned something from history knows that no one is truly invincible.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BadPress
• Release date: Aug 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9781667462257

Book preview

LAST LINE

LAST CIRCLE

Massimo Nibbi

––––––––

Translated by Valeria Beotti

(For Katia and Angelo)

1

The local train came out of its underground section and a beautiful sunny day illuminated the few passengers who occupied the wagons. Hans, leaning against one of the side handles of the carriage, welcomed that light with pleasure, realizing that being outside the tunnel meant he was almost there.                              He had traveled that stretch of the subway many times, from his home in the Colton Hill area to Angel where the High School Institute where he had attended the seven years required by the school system was located.                                    

Every morning for seven years he had taken that train and, getting in Colton Hill, had traveled the four stops of the route: Galileo Road, Saint Joseph, and, once out of the underground section, Barrio Viejo and, finally Angel.                             

It didn't seem true to him that all this was about to end, even if he was a little sorry to leave his classmates, but as Mr. Ripley always said: Never forget we have to go on in life guys!.                 

Mr. Ripley was the history teacher and always came up with these categorical and sometimes even slightly obvious statements, but in this case, he was undoubtedly correct.                                   

- Hi Hans. 

Hans Jeger was pulled from his thoughts by that voice, he turned and saw that Jimmy Soler had got on in Barrio Viejo, along with a plump woman who had taken one of the seats still free.   

- Hi Jim. So today is the big day – said Jimmy.

- Yes – replied Hans with a smirk - today is the big day.

- Are you worried?

- No – answered Hans frowning a little – I have no doubts about the promotion, there will be problems with the score, I believe that 525-550 points can easily be within my reach, besides that, I don't know. It would take a little luck. 

- It's good you think in these terms – Jimmy said looking disconsolate  –   I think I made a terrible mess at the math test and exceeding 500 would be a miracle for me.

- Too bad with this score they would only give you the Social Points resulting from having finished your education, you would have no additional bonus.

- I'm well aware of that Hans but, believe me, I think my destiny is to work in my father's mechanical workshop, and for this, you don't need many Social Points.

- Not really  –  said Hans  –  if it's a job you like.

- Exactly so  –  Jimmy replied taking a peek out the window of the carriage- I have always liked that job and the fact of living in the Fifth Circle is more than satisfactory for me, so ... –  and he made a gesture spreading his hands.

Hans smiled. Jimmy Soler was a good-natured boy. He didn't know him very well but had always seen him as a quiet type.

- We have arrived  –  said Jimmy – good luck then. 

- Break a leg! –  answered Hans. 

Jimmy laughed and, waving his hand goodbye, walked away through the crowd with a brisk step.

Angel Station was always very crowded and that morning was no exception. 

Hans walked towards the exit and, once outside, took the road that would lead him to his school for the last time.

Arriving at the gate, he passed it with determination, noticing that there weren't many boys, although everyone knew the results would arrive in the morning. Even Jimmy Soler hadn't accompanied him but he would surely come later and probably the others would too.

He crossed the courtyard, nodded to a couple of girls who belonged to another section and whom he slightly knew, and finally entered the hall. It was time.

He approached the wall while he looked for the sheet relating to section R, and a shrill and well-known voice hit him from behind.

- Jeger, you slack, do you expect to be promoted?

It was Professor Klhiste, physics and science.

Hans turned and answered with a polite smile

- Certainly not, Professor. I was just curious to see with what grade I flunked.

- You always have an answer at the ready, Jeger, but I think your tongue will not help you this time – added Klhiste with a chuckle  –  look, look what you've done.

Hans turned carefully to look at the notice board, Klhiste looked sarcastic, as usual, but his eyes didn't have that stinking look that characterized his face when he was serious. He was joking. This reassured him, for the time it took him to identify his name among those on the list, then he finally found himself, and what he read left him speechless for a moment:  Jeger 581 points - promoted -. 

- Wow 581 points! – shouted Hans turning toward the professor. 

- The seriousness of this school is no longer what it once was –  added Klhiste with that smirk on his face – the members who have formed your examination board will sooner or later receive a visit from some Inquisitor if they go on like this.

Klhiste said that phrase with a giggle.

Professor Klhiste knew something about the Inquisition; the story was well known. Years ago one pupil failed his final exam thanks to the decisive contribution of Klhiste and accused him of harassment and that his rejection was not due to his lack of preparation but rather to other easily imaginable turbid reasons.

The Inquisitors took Klhiste to their Headquarters, in the Palace of Codes, in the Second Circle, as the investigation was carried out by the First Congregation, and they kept him there for two days. They pressed him well as was their style. However, he did not lose heart, and thanks to his very clear mind and cutting logic he proved his innocence beyond any doubt.

His innocence became obvious when the Inquisitors, now suspicious, took the accuser. The boy much less gifted than Klyiste, immediately fell into profound contradictions, and in the end, confessed his attempt at revenge.

The result was that Klhiste was declared innocent and the boy, with all his family, was exiled to the Ninth Circle, or as it was commonly defined one step away from hell.

This made Klhiste one of a kind as not many people entered the Palace of Codes and came out with their heads held high like him. He received a job offer from the schools of the Fourth Circle but turned it down because he was too tied to Yuri Gagarin High School, not to mention that his fame was now such that it would have been difficult for him to rebuild a similar reputation in any other place.

- Blimey! – replied Hans – I'm very happy and I don't think this school has gotten any less serious because of my grade even though, to be honest, I wasn't quite sure I'd go that far.

- Don't worry Jeger – the professor's expression had become serious and fatherly, his smile had disappeared – you worked well not only in the final exam but for all the seven years you were here. If we gave you that grade it's because you deserved it. I wish you to carry on successfully whatever you decide to do in the future - and he reached out to the boy to shake his hand.

- Thank you, Professor – said Hans vigorously reciprocating – I also wish you the best.

Hans took leave of his professor and walked towards the exit and resumed his way home. He felt taller by at least a palm, he was proud and happy. Who knows what his parents would have said about that grade which meant an extra bonus of 30 Social Points. And Ticla. She was younger than him and still had a year of school left. She would have envied and maybe even admired him for that good result.

The thought of Ticla had crossed his mind and, as he was returning to the subway to go home, the same thought also sent him some anguish.

Things between him and Ticla had not been going very well for some time. They had been together for more than a year, but in recent times, something was wrong.

Recently she often treated him in coldly and some cases, even abruptly. She seemed annoyed, irritated, intolerant; she was no longer the sweet girl of some time ago who doted on him. It was as if something inside her had broken.

When they were together, sometimes there was harmony, other times the situation was tense. He had the feeling that she was being fought by something that made her so restless, something that sooner or later he feared would jump out.

He pushed these thoughts back to the back of his mind and refocused on that magic number 581. What a shock! he thought. This meant that, to the 50 Social Points normally provided by the legal system for having finished the course of studies, he would have added another 30, and his parents would certainly have been proud of him.

Being able to accumulate Social Points was very important and Hans knew it well. The federal school system began from an early age to instill this concept in all young citizens of the Federation.

Therefore Hans, like all citizens of the Federation, knew very well how in the 75th year after the Great Contagion when the Federation understood that its dimension was inevitably going beyond the concept of a natural defensive and selective community, the problem arose of how to structure a complex and sustainable social order.

Managing a small community is not difficult if you impose clear rules and have the strength to enforce them. If these rules are recognized and felt as a right by all members, then it becomes even elementary.

Moving to a large community, in the 75th year of the New Era the Federation surpassed 500,000 citizens, and things generally become problematic.

The basic principles may still be good for everyone but the nuances, particular cases, or the desire to see new rights protected create big problems.

If more people aggregate then more points of view, desires and needs must be taken into consideration. It becomes difficult to develop a classification of merit and determine what the State should protect primarily and what is instead meritorious of subordinate protection.

It's precisely what happened in the Federation at that time, the whole institute was shaken. A dangerous regressive movement was risked, a turn back to old social patterns, with oppressors, oppressed, and discrimination. But the Council, then directed by President Juvet, drafted the backbone of the current legislative system, the totality of laws that saved the Federation from chaos that instead made it a winning social model, the only winning model after the chaos of the Great Contagion: The General Regulations for a Sustainable Social Order.

This set of norms, also known as the Juvet Law started from the general basic concept that, socially speaking, individuals must stay with their fellow men.

Why force an individual, who considers some social behaviors inappropriate, to live with another who instead considers them normal and who therefore feels entitled to implement them?

Doing so is a prerequisite for triggering social conflicts, from small quarrels to clashes over what is lawful. To smoke, drink, or what kind of clothing is commonly called appropriate and so on.

The forced contiguity of people who see life from excessively distant points of view leads to disputes, conflicts, and sometimes inevitable clashes, like a stone thrown into a pond, begin to create small Circles of water that increase in diameter until they become a wave.

The old social systems before the Great Contagion were all deeply characterized by this contradiction, even as they tried desperately to distinguish themselves from each other to confuse this truth.

Hans knew this well, so much so that at times he was surprised to think about how it was possible in the past that upright people, with a very profound concept of social discipline, could have lived with individuals who had a weaker idea of it, sometimes even non-existent.

Madness! That's why it all happened.

But the Juvet Law had canceled all this. It provided that the citizens of the Federation were classified according to their way of life, and actions, and indirectly also on their ideas about society.

Ideas that the Federation made an effort to protect, denying the principle that they could coexist together, in the foolish attempt to find a social context that made everyone happy.

All this was in the system of Social Points assigned to citizens, added or subtracted on the magnetic identification card that each one was required to have.

The points, based on pre-established charts, were added for particular actions or events defined as socially constructive, meritorious, and highly meritorious, or were subtracted to different degrees in the case of questionable, incorrect behavior, or crimes. And if the crimes were of the primary type, for which the death sentence was foreseen, the points were not canceled but rather the citizen himself.

The Social Points that each individual accumulated, based on how he developed his life, also established in which of the Ten Circles, in which the territory of the Federation was divided, he could live.

The further you moved away from the First Circle, the heart of the Federation, the less the citizen was required to evolve social behavior. In the Tenth, which in this concentric geographical order was the last and the largest, anything could happen to you. Everything and where a man's life wasn't worth much.

Even this, however, as stated in one of its introductory articles, the Juvet Law had dealt with: 

"The Federation denies the possibility to establish a priori the value of a man's life.

Although this value exists, neither the State, the Religions, nor any philosophical school can establish it. The only one with the right to do so is the individual to whom life belongs, who will establish this value with his behavior, actions, way of relating to other individuals, and the State itself. The Federation respects this right but must draw the necessary consequences to protect the collective right to a balanced and peaceful social order".

To recap: helping those who want to live to live better, helping those who don't want to die. What's more logical?

While Hans was intent on these reflections, the subway had brought him back home, now it was time to tell his parents, they would be happy with this he was sure, even if the fateful question would soon arise again: and now what will you do? .

Hans had some ideas but was not sure He liked the university, even if he didn't have a clear idea of what he preferred between electronics and engineering. The real doubt was the possibility of going for a period of military service in the Circles more externally.

In the Fifth Circle, where he lived, the military presence was practically nonexistent. The local police were enough to ensure order in a quiet community. The military units were in the Tenth, Ninth, and Eighth Circles according to their use. Defensive, tactical, or control.

Hans knew well that a draft was equivalent to a good amount of Social Points that depended on the department assigned. At the end of the service, you could take advantage of some facilities to enter university or the world of work.

He would have thought about it. Now it was time to rest and enjoy that good result.

- Wow! 581 points! Well done! – Rudolph Jeger was a big man who had worked his life in a metal profile factory. He had started as a machine technician. Over time, he built his career. Now he was a highly respected head of division almost close to retirement and had a son, Hans, of whom he had always been proud.

Hans knew his relationship with his father had always been excellent, except for a few small discussions between father and son that are sometimes even healthy. Between them, there was harmony, especially when in spring they went fishing together at the lake and where their competition was limited to who caught the biggest fish. Hans had already been beating his father for two seasons, and his dad didn't mind much. Hans was a smart boy and this pleased Rudolph Jeger tremendously, even if his son was getting better at fishing than he was.

- It's wonderful Hans, what do you plan to do now; will you take some vacation as you said, or do you have other projects? 

- I don't know Mom. Ticla would like to go see Martin, that friend who lives down in the Sixth Circle on that beautiful farm I told you about.

- Martin? Yes, the one whose family owns that horse farm. I think it's a good idea.

Joanna Jeger was Hans's mother. She was a firm and resolute woman, had married very young to Rudolph, and had spent all her youth in the Sixth Circle from which her husband came too. She loved those places and people, and when her husband was offered to move to the Fifth Circle because both earned enough Social Points, she reluctantly parted ways with those places where she returned whenever she could to visit old friends or family members.

Moving to the Fifth Circle became less of a burden to her over time. She knew that her husband's career would be facilitated and she was waiting for Hans for him to be born in the Fifth Circle, with its hereditary birth score, which would have been very important.

After all, life in the Fifth Circle wasn't much different from that of the Sixth, the differences were minimal. The houses in urban areas were rarely apartment buildings but almost always small two-story terraced houses with a small garden, like the one her husband's company procured for her and Rudolph when they moved.

Even now they lived in a similar house, but this one had an extra bathroom and a slightly larger garden and above all was their property.

Those who had a garden had to take care of it, it didn't have to become a greenhouse, but keeping it dirty and unkempt was considered questionable behavior.

A questionable behavior perpetrated over time could also produce a slow loss of Social Points which in the long run could generate a reallocation in a Circle of a lower degree.

Those people who do not understand the social need to keep their garden in order perhaps don't feel the need to own one. In the Sixth Circle, they can find more suitable accommodation in the urban built-up areas, made up entirely of apartment buildings.

Some too eccentric ways of dressing were considered questionable behaviors too in the Fifth Circle but, apart from that, life in the two Circles of the Federation did not differ much, considering that Joanna Jeger was a very sober woman and she loved flowers, so she soon found herself comfortable in Fifth Circle.

- What are you doing tonight, are you staying home for dinner, Hans?

- No mom – replied Hans – I'm going to a friend's party tonight and I think there will be no shortage of food there.

- A graduation party? – asked his dad.

- Yes pops, at Johnny Rucker's, he's one of Ticla's classmates.

- He did not take the final exam. Why is he having a party?

- Yes dad, you know he was sure he would stay in the penultimate year, and being promoted to the last year is something to celebrate.

All three laughed. Hans got up and walked toward the stairs to his room. A little nap after lunch was just what we needed. After all, he would stay up to the wee hours, and a bit of rest certainly wouldn't hurt him.

Hans got up at about half past six, washed, combed his hair, and began getting ready for that evening's party.

The ritual was always the same, choice of the most suitable shirt, solution to the eternal doubt dark shoes or boots?, And finally a little aftershave, after obviously brushing the little beard he had with a razor.

Some doubts were solved a priori, however, preventing others from making their way. Opting for boots would make the choice between a leather jacket and an overcoat completely useless. The jacket was the only possible solution.

In the case of dark shoes, the overcoat was more suitable; it was all very logical. There was no mistaking it.

That evening Hans opted for boots and consequently for the jacket. The evening was not too cold and therefore for his small motorcycle, on which he normally moved when he was not using the subway, the jacket would have been sufficient, not to mention the fact that wearing boots on the bike gave him greater security. Maybe he didn't like the wind on his ankles, or maybe it was just a psychological issue, but with the other shoes on the bike, he didn't feel completely at ease.

The appointment with Ticla was at half past seven and he liked to be punctual, even if Ticla never was and always made him wait.

While he pulled the motorcycle out of the small shed located on the side of the house, Hans began to think about her again. Things couldn't go on like this; it was necessary to clarify why she persisted in having that behavior with him and if there was something to say it had to be said to solve what there was to solve.

He was deeply in love with that girl, but couldn't bear to be treated at times as someone who is put up with, as someone who is as he shouldn't be, or who does things he shouldn't.

Tonight he would talk to her, he would seclude himself with her and instead of trying to steal kisses, as he always did, he would tell her in a firm but not abrupt tone that she needed to stop treating him like this.

If there was something wrong, they would have talked about it, but he wanted his Ticla back, the one from a few months ago, the one who looked at him with loving eyes and whispered in his ear when he least expected it: I love you.

He would have done just that; he would have used a firm tone without being aggressive. Sometimes you can't leave room for compromise and he wouldn't have made that mistake.

He closed the shutters of the garage, started the motorcycle and left the garden of his house, turned right towards Barrio Viejo, thearea where Ticla lived. Problems would be solved tonight.

2

Hans had been waiting for a few minutes, Ticla was late as always. He got off the bike and sat on a bench in the small park where they always met.

He was there immersed in his thoughts when a familiar step made him look around, it was Ticla.

- Hi Hans. Are we going?

- Sure – he said and went over to kiss her, she accepted the kiss, but she turned her cheek and not her mouth.

Ticla Robles was a beautiful girl, tall and slender, with long straight black hair like the wing of a raven which, thanks to a pretty fringe, gently framed her face.

Her complexion was barely olive, which betrayed her distant origins. Her father had told her that her ancestors were originally from that part of the world once called South America, even though she was well aware that that was a very vague definition for a place that huge and currently of uncertain location.

Old geographical nomenclatures were used many, many years ago.

She was nineteen, one less than Hans, lived in a very close family and her father was a man with ideas and principles that he liked to be respected by everyone at home.

This, for example, meant that although he knew about Hans and somehow did not disapprove of him, he did not like having him too much in his way.

The result was that, except on Saturday nights, she and Hans had to meet in the park, a few blocks from her house, while on Saturday evenings Hans could come and pick her up at home.

It was quite funny to observe the scene and the dialogue that was repeated every Saturday between Hans and her father.

- Good Evening Mr Robles.

- Oh hello boy – he rarely called him by his name – is everything alright?

- Yes Mr Robles  – replied Hans.

- Where are you going tonight? To the movies?

- Yes Mr Robles, to the movie – answered Hans with the usual smile.

- Well, don't be late and stay safe.

Every Saturday the same jokes. Ticla wondered if her father was just so foolish as to believe the fact that they always went to the movies.

He probably knew very well that sometimes they went there and sometimes they didn't, and when they didn't, he also knew what they did together, but although he was very attached to his eldest daughter knew that at a certain age it was inevitable.

The important thing, however, was that everything took place according to the rules. Everyone has the right to live their own life, but in doing so should always respect other people's feelings, especially when it comes to loved ones. Exactly what the rules are for. Imagining his daughter at the cinema was probably something that made it less difficult for him that she was no longer a child, with all obviously natural implications.

Silly behavior? Perhaps. However, this allowed everyone to keep their roles. He remained, in any case, her father without feeling like an accomplice and she was the daughter who showed him respect by complying with this small artifice imposed on her.

Hans understood the meaning of this little play and was willing to obey the rules.

In a few minutes, they were at Johnny Rucker's house; Hans parked the bike and entered the small garden.

Some guys had already arrived; there was the classic party atmosphere: din, loud music, and empty beer bottles resting a little here and a little there.

- Hi guys! – Johnny met the new arrivals with a half-empty beer and a ridiculous hat on his head.

- Hi Johnny! – said Hans shaking his hand.

- Hola Johnny! – exclaimed Ticla hugging him and kissing him on both cheeks.

- Make yourselves at home – said Johnny laughing – even better, do as if you were at home while your parents are not there.

There was a thunderous laugh; Johnny then took his leave of them and, still with his hat on his head, approached another group of boys to whom he probably said another of his proverbial nonsense so that they, too, exploded in a loud laugh.

- Hans... Yoli is here – said Ticla  –  I'll be back in a few.

Ticla walked away towards the two girls who had just arrived, greeting them affectionately. One was Yolanda Encontrera, Ticla's best friend, and the other one Hans did not know.

Yolanda Encontrera, known as Yoli, was a girl who, according to Hans, had a negative influence on Ticla. For this reason, he had no sympathy for her, even if he tried to hide it so as not to give Ticla another cause of bad temper.

Yoli was full of herself, she normally spoke badly of everyone especially if they were girls, she found them all badly dressed, badly made up, vulgar, or bigoted. For boys, the most frequent adjective for her was little chicken, they were all little chickens for her, childish, clumsy, asleep, naive, in short, little chickens.

Then there were two or three guys at school, Ticla had shown him who they were, on whom Miss Yoli drooled shamefully, and knowing who they were gave Hans the certainty that Yoli was a negative element. In fact, Hans believed, they were probably, the most unpleasant in the school.

Two were, like him, in the last year, while one was already attending a university course but they were still united by the same characteristics, big and stupid.

Predisposed to everything that was pure aesthetics, they spent most of their time updating their wardrobe and maintaining their tan which served as a fundamental complement to their physical activity carried out in the gym.

These were the types that Yoli liked, real men, not chickens.

Hans thought otherwise. He was also a sportsman, the difference was that he trained his muscles to work well, not just to show them. His wardrobe was made up of a few basic items, renewed when necessary. He too liked to have things that weren't out of fashion but their updating was anything but obsessive.

This way of being according to Yoli was a bit chicken style, while Hans thought Yoli was a complete fool.

All this, however, would not have been a problem if not because Yoli was Ticla's best friend, and her influence on her worried him a lot.

He was sure that much of Ticla's unfriendly attitude towards him was fueled by Yoli, and by Ticla's desire to be more like her.

The evening went on in a rather boring way, Ticla practically never left Yoli's side and they were joined by other girls, gathering in a small group.

It was safe to bet that all evening they had gossiped about all the other girls at the party, as well as extensively confronted each other on careful evaluation parameters regarding the boys.

Hans observed them several times during the evening and their attitude put him quite in a bad mood. His evening, on the other hand, was spent talking a little with everyone, and there were several who complimented him on his vote. He mostly acted modestly saying he was lucky.

Thinking back to his scholastic success then it occurred to him that he had not yet talked about it with Ticla. She had not complimented him, indeed that evening they had exchanged very few words.

Was it possible that she didn't know? Hard.

Around half past midnight, in the party that was beginning to fade a little, a certain movement started, the boys began to move and word of mouth seemed to summon everyone elsewhere.

- So are we going? -Ticla finally detached herself from her friends and reached Hans who was sitting on a step of the small staircase that led from the garden to her house.

- Go where? – Hans replied.

- They all go to the lake in the pine forest, and the party continues there.

Again that stupid pond thought Hans. It was a place he'd been to a couple of times before, and he hadn't enjoyed it at all.

He could not feel the same joy that invaded the other boys in going, a feeling that obviously must have been generated by the fact that something not precisely lawful was happening. The pine forest, a beautiful enclosed park with a pond, closed at 8.30 pm, and climbing over the fence to enter was not a legitimate thing, not in the Fifth Circle.

The cigarettes that were smoked were also not recommended consumer goods in general, at their age in particular, and then there was always someone who pulled out some old music albums of authors who had been banned. They made them play in a hand-recorder, which inevitably someone had brought; it always gave a great excitement to everyone. Except him.

Listening to banned music was the most frequent transgression committed in the Fifth Circle by the younger groups.

These were old pieces sung and played by artists who in the century before the Great Contagion went viral with often incredible successes.

The songs were captivating and also well played, but everyone knew that because of their lyrics they had been declared misleading and miseducative.

In the century preceding the Great Contagion, that music had become a phenomenon capable of moving enormous amounts of money and a huge propaganda vehicle.

The story told that in that period there was a radical change in the figure of the musician as an element of the social fabric.

In fact, he had always been quite a character, socially speaking. Often penniless, almost never able to reach important social roles, very often understood and appreciated only after his death.

In the early years of High School, the History of Traditions course dealt broadly with the social impact of the phenomenon of music, and thus it was taught how for centuries music had been, especially in the Western world, an art for nobles and priests, sponsored by them and enjoyed by them.

In its primitive version, it was probably a substantially popular phenomenon, it was thought that it had an accompanying function in some collective works, to become in its most advanced phase a strictly elitist phenomenon.

Liturgical music and liturgical chant characterized the so-called Renaissance period and also in the classical period, following one, patrons and protectors belonging to the noble and clerical classes were necessary for great masters of the caliber of Mozart or Vivaldi to be able to exercise their genius.

The baroque period was no different. Even in this case, men like Bach needed the protection of nobles and princes to survive and to be able to perform; the courts were, in fact, the only audiences able to appreciate these masters.

Things began to change with the following period, the romantic one, in fact in this period the huge gap between the ruling, refined and cultured classes, and all the others, narrowed.

The so-called intermediate or bourgeois classes began to form a social reality that, although not endowed with illustrious ancestors, nevertheless had sufficient culture, sensitivity, and economic capacity to understand and appreciate arts like music, shaking the spirit of those who are passionate about it.

In all these phases, however, regardless of the various distinctions, the music had maintained fairly stable characteristics: small audiences, generally never a true source of great economic success, and the complete absence of women. A woman had never been able to write her name, even at a secondary level, in the history of classical or ancient music, as it had been defined for a long time.

In the century before the Great Contagion or the last century as it was commonly called, all this changed.

This form of artistic expression underwent a radical change due, on the one hand, to a wider education of social classes, even the humblest, and on the other thanks to new technologies that made it very affordable, up to get to cost nothing with the advent of the web.

At this point, everyone could quench their thirst at affordable prices.

Beautiful indeed, only they did not come to terms with the problem that the spirit of a human being can be invaded by many internal currents, some of which are sometimes obscure.

The thing then became a socio-economic phenomenon, when it was clear that younger groups were enormously attracted and influenced by it, giving skilled musicians and unscrupulous managers the possibility to speculate on some moods that normally pervaded boys of that age.

Selling an identity through music became a huge business, every musical gender had its idols, its look, its drug, its symbols of recognition, that made them different from others but finally able to recognize themselves.

There's no need to mention that the abuse of this commercial technique, over time, became the source of more absurd stereotypes than those it intended to challenge.

However, all of this was now a thing of the past. With the Federation, it could no longer take place.

The nature of the texts was now carefully evaluated, for both contemporary and past authors. For ancient music, the problem did not arise. Authors who praised abusing drugs, exterminating their families, despising people belonging to races other than their own, and extolling unnatural sexual behavior, were no longer tolerated. The Federation did not recognize these values as its own, indeed making sure that such attitudes were propagated was considered an action against the Federation, its security, and its people. Some of these songs would also have been almost incomprehensible, in fact, it was now almost fifty years, for example, that within the boundaries of the Federation no more children were born with hormonal imbalances or deficiencies such as to generate homosexual individuals in adulthood.

For some time now, genetics had made it possible to know many things about a fetus and all potential mothers had, by law, to undergo genetic prevention tests that prevented individuals with severe disabilities from being born.

Those individuals who instead manifested symptoms of distortion of the sexual sphere during their adult life were seen to by the three Congregations of the Inquisition, no joking with them.

Better for those who felt these characteristics arise within themselves to voluntarily step away from the Circles of the Federation, go beyond its borders and face the uncertain since what awaited them if they remained was far from unknown. The Inquisitors would come, sooner or later, but they would come.

However, albums of banned music, coming from who knows where occasionally popped up, their lyrics were not particularly scandalous or violent. Some suspected they were deliberately circulating by order of the Congregations and the police to generate a sort of guided transgression.

Studies by eminent sociologists had long shown that in the social groups of the youth, that transgression was almost a ritual consumed as a kind of gateway to growing up.

If so, then why not somehow control this challenge what cannot be done syndrome by pre-establishing a taboo that is ultimately not too harmful?

With music, it was probably the way things worked, even if the forbidden that could be found in the Fifth Circle and the neighboring ones was not even distantly related to the violent and angry music that was played in the last century. Nevertheless, it was banned, and playing it at night in a park at the closing time gave everyone a great adrenaline rush. To everyone but Hans Jeger who still thought it was stupid, regardless.

- The Lake? Again?  –  replied Hans.

- If you don't feel like it, you can go home. No one forces you – Ticla had put on that aggressive expression of hers again, and the speed with which she had passed to the attack gave Hans the feeling the reaction was rehearsed; she was expecting his answer, so she had prepared a reply and he had fallen for it.

- Go home? – Hans was beginning to lose patience – I was really hoping to spend some time alone with you, I wanted to talk a little, celebrate my promotion, don't tell me you didn't know.

- Of course I know and I'm very happy for you, but we're not at school right now, there's no homework to be done, we can have fun. Do you think it's too much for you to honor us with your presence?

- What the hell are you talking about? – now Hans was really angry – by dint of dating that moron Yoli are you becoming like her? We can have some fun – Hans mocked the phrase Ticla had just uttered in a funny tone.

- Forget Yoli – Ticla was starting to raise her voice – this has nothing to do with her. You are the problem here, you always criticize everyone but are you really sure you are as perfect as you think? Yoli is a fool, he looks like an imbecile – now it was Ticla who, quoting phrases that Hans had evidently said in the past, was mimicking – you don't realize how boring you are? I can't take it anymore, I'm tired of my life; You are ... you are ..., that's what you are – in saying those words Ticla threw what she was holding at him, it was a flower, a small semi-withered red rose which she must have picked up from the buffet table, grotesquely decorated with it.

The flower hit Hans between the neck and breastbone and landed on the ground.

Had he been hit by a mule's kick he probably would have felt less dizzy; he looked down and stared at the little flower, a withered flower; this was how Ticla considered him.

He looked up, and saw Ticla walking away, towards the group of her friends who were waiting just outside the gate of the garden of the house.

Hans remained there for a few seconds, and looked again at the rose on the ground; he did not expect such a reaction and didn't know what to do, he felt his legs paralyzed and his throat tightened; he wouldn't be able to speak even if he wanted to.

It'll seem strange but he was unsure whether or not he should pick up that rose, many sensations and thoughts crossed his mind, then he decided he did not want it; it had to stay there on the ground and so, with slow steps, he walked towards the exit, towards his little bike to go home.

Ticla walked with determined steps towards the garden gate; outside waiting for her were Yoli and the others, who surely must have observed the whole scene. As she walked, in her mind still full of anger, she kept repeating to herself Stupid, a hundred times stupid ... but now it's over, over!. As she reached her friends, Yoli came to meet her, and with a winking face she began:

- So?

- So what? – replied Ticla.

- Let's go, we saw everything, and there's no need to explain; you broke up with him, did you?

- Of course! – answered Ticla – I couldn't stand any more of that ... big baby!

Everyone gathered around her, kissing her on the cheek and hugging her. All her friends, however, showed not only solidarity but also approval for what Ticla had just done. In fact, within their group, the argument of how Hans was an inadequate boy for Ticla had been touched several times.

He wasn't a bad boy but he was so immature; she was so beautiful, and when they went out together it stood out as there was a gap of attractiveness between the two, at least so Yoli defined it. He was too staid, controlled, predictable and Ticla deserved more, much more, and she finally understood it.

- Well done! – said Yoli hugging her – everything will be different with Albert, you'll see, you know I'm never wrong in these things, he thinks you're irresistible and I believe you find him ... interesting – in pronouncing this last word she had brought her index finger to her chin and raised her eyes to the sky, assuming a winking expression again.

Everyone laughed loudly because this was known too. Several times in their chatter, Ticla had shown some interest in Albert Delaine, a boy famous in the school for being very appreciated by girls thanks to a decidedly pleasant physical appearance that he, aware of possessing it, treated with a hint of ill-concealed narcissism.

Then there was also the fact that Albert's father was an important administrative officer who lived in the Fifth Circle for the love of his wife. In fact, she was very fond of the house and the places where she had always lived. For this reason, she'd never allowed him to exploit his Social Points, which would have allowed him to live also in the Fourth or Third Circle if he had wanted.

Albert's points were also above the average in fact, up to the age of eighteen, each individual was affected by the score of their parents. At eighteen, however, the individual became responsible for himself, and the bond with the family ceased. This, obviously, did not mean that a minor's actions had no effect.

It was frequent, as provided for by the law on Permanence and Citizens' Movement, that some bravado of their children cost the loss of Social Points to parents who, according to the law, were held responsible for the acts of the latter, up to legal age.

Contrarywise, however, the law limited the influence of the parental score on the children if this had evolved in pejorative terms compared to that of birth.

There were also children forced to follow their family in more external Circles, due to problems that had affected one or both parents. This, however, did not change their score, which remained the same as that assigned to them at the time of birth, and when they were eighteen, if they wished, they could re-enter in less external circles. These were commonly called Frozen Points.

The principle of the law rested on making an individual's bad deeds weigh on whoever was responsible for them, not vice versa.

The rules on the mobility of individuals were coordinated in this sense. It was known that the mobility of individuals towards the outside had practically no limitations. It was on the inside that the restrictions existed.

Whoever was credited with Social Points to live in a Circle could freely move up to two more internal Circles than his for everyday movements or sometimes even for work, but the residence had to remain in the Circle in which he was authorized to live.

Those caught in Unauthorized Circles experienced a narrow escape, even if this was a crime with very few cases.

A citizen of the Seventh or Eighth Circle didn't care at all to go to a Fourth or Third Circle; in fact, he would have felt uncomfortable, people would have been too different from him, dressed differently, spoke differently, walked, ate differently. A policeman would have noticed the anomaly as soon as he had set foot in one of these Circles and would have arrested him in five minutes.

Hans, according to these rules, could at most move up to the Third Circle, and he had even been there to watch a play with his entire class.

The citizens of the first three Circles had no limitations whatsoever in their mobility within the Federation, for the others these limitations existed in a gradually proportional manner, and it was important to respect them.

So Albert Delaine also had this characteristic that made him special even if, precisely because of his bravado, he risked seeing it vanish once.

Albert Delaine loved to hang out with what, even in a very quiet Circle like the Fifth, was defined as bad company.

In fact, he had a passion for powerful motorcycles; not the electric ones that kids of his age used to move around, but real monsters with sophisticated internal combustion engines with which, together with a group of friends, some of them already with Recalls of Police or even some small crime on conscience, he enjoyed challenging homologous groups generally coming from more external circles.

It was obviously an unauthorized activity in the Fifth Circle, while in the Seventh, where these races often took place, the authorities were more tolerant. For him, however, being caught at it resulted in a Police Recall.

The concept was always the same; if a citizen likes to behave in accordance with Seventh Circle rules, why should he live in the Fifth?

This, therefore, caused Albert some problems, even though it mantled his image, in the eyes of his peers, with even more than an aura of charm. The worries, however, were smoothed out by his father, a highly esteemed man, who somehow managed to make the reprimand cost his son the penalty of only one Social Point, an almost symbolic penalty that produced practically no consequence as Albert's social score, as well as that of his entire family, was far from the limit that would have forced them to move to a lower Circle.

- Albert? Well now let's not make too much of him – said Ticla still laughing – for the moment let's all go to the lake and have fun, for Albert ... we'll see.

They all laughed again and hurried to reach their little means of transport, bicycles or small electric motorcycles. Ticla went up with Yoli as she had remained on foot, and once ready they set off; the lake was not far and in a few minutes, even those by bicycle, would arrive without problems. A beautiful night was about to begin, school over, her friends, music, cigarettes, and Hans finally out of her way. What more could she ask for? She was happy, yes she was really happy.

Hans woke up the next morning all upset. As soon as he woke up the thought of Ticla and what had happened came back to his mind like a shiver.

A sense of malaise gripped him and accompanied him throughout the day. He tried to engage in routine activities, just to keep himself busy and try not to think about it, but he soon realized that it was completely useless.

The thing that annoyed him the most was that he didn't know what to do. Could it have ended like this? he wondered. What could he do to make her come back? People sometimes argue but there are always possible solutions; they talk, and at least a meeting point is sought.

All good speeches, but although they have a general logic of their own, he felt they were inapplicable to his case. What Ticla had done the night before was not the result of a discussion; the pond had nothing to do with it. He was about to call her a couple of times but wasn't sure what to say, then he braced himself and called her. He did not get any effect because her sister told him politely that Ticla wasn't there; she had gone out. A conversation that had taken place other times in the past but this time with something unreal, Angela's voice was not the same; Hans felt that she was lying, and not very well.

He called back a few days later and the outcome was the same, only this time the polite denial was offered by Ticla's mother, he thanked her and took his leave, although as he hung up the phone he said to himself: it doesn't end here!.

The days that followed were quite empty, the sense of despair that permeated him almost never left him, sometimes while he was with some friends his brain took a break from thinking about Ticla and the fact that he would never see her again.

But then, after a while, that sense of emptiness, of inner cold returned.

Sometimes in the long walks he often took he tried to react, he said to himself that Ticla wasn't the only girl in the world, that there would be others, even more beautiful, sexier, nicer. True, it was all true, but they wouldn't have been Ticla, they would have been something else but not her.

It was useless; he was sick and could not stop. He often went for a walk towards the town center, looked at some shops, and sat at the counter of some pub where he hoped to meet some friends.

Meeting them by chance seemed more dignified than calling them to ask for some company. Everyone knew that Ticla had ditched him, and he hated the pitying tones of some of them and could not stand the mocking jokes of others, whether they were made to joke or a little maliciously.

There were a couple of guys from the group he normally went out with who had laughed at that story a little too much. Hans feared that the next time he would be forced to break somebody's face. He already disliked them and apparently, his feeling had to be reciprocated.

So he did not call anyone, talking only to friends he casually came in contact with; otherwise, he stayed all afternoon drinking his beer alone or chatting with whoever happened to be.

The thing that relaxed him, however, was walking. His town was not very big, but big enough for those who wanted to take a relaxing stroll.

The 5th South West was in fact an urban agglomeration born towards the end of the year 96 after the Great Contagion, with marked industrial characteristics and processing of raw materials. One of the peculiarities of the Federation was that the principal urban agglomerations didn't have a name. They had neighborhoods with names, but the cities themselves didn't have one; they were instead identified with a number that specified the Circle of belonging and the geographical location that positioned them, with respect to the urban agglomeration of the First Circle. In the logic of the Federation, this turned out to be the actual center of everything.

It was from there that it all started; from it, it started again after madness had brought the world first to the brink and then a step further.

In the beginning, there was an ancient abbey in that place, occupied by what later turned out to be the founding nucleus of today's Federation.

Obviously, in those days, there were just people on the run looking for a safe place; they did not imagine what would come from their community and their commitment.

The story tells of a world that had reached the apex of moral and social decay and was sentenced to pay the price for its nonsense.

The obstinate search for utopian freedom had led to slow but systematic destruction of everything that could be or appear as a credible rule. Also, without rules, it was easier to pursue what most really pursued: economic success, power, and social affirmation.

Headless masses were initially exploited in pathetic social battles to pass the principle that everyone had the right to everything they wanted, regardless of the value of individuals and their aspirations; then the period of the great brain anesthesia, of the web, of the network took over.

The world was populated with masses intent on observing their electronic tablet which, initially born as a telephone, ended up being anything but this. Its real function turned out to be that of a social arena, a virtual space where people enjoyed showing everything about themselves.

Their abilities (very often presumed, even more, boasted), their sexuality, their idiocy, tastes, weaknesses, and the ability to laugh at those of others.

A reality parallel to the real one was created, where everyone could do and sometimes be whatever they wanted