Smoking Dead. S. Bonavida Ponce
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was out of control. He threw three white balls into the air, and as he juggled them, he continued to speak. “Humanity was in crisis. For years, the old ruling caste, the Politicians had led the world to its own destruction. Always spitting out what is not true, and filling their pockets with other people's money. Fortunately, the great plague wiped them out. Then the clowns gathered. Accustomed to travelling from one continent to another, we held a great clown conference. They were hard moments that had to be overcome with a big smile. With the Politicians extinct, only we, the clowns, were left, the logical evolution to our previous leaders. And clowns do know how to make people laugh. And bring people together,” a big smile was drawn on the mouth of the Great Clown. “Oh yes, boy! Sooooo much simple. In a decade we do more work for humanity than all Politicians in a hundred years. We built schools, hospitals, we end wars, we end hatreds. We healed this world which seemed to be turning into a great cosmic dump. And we, the clowns, liked that very much. Do you know how we did it, boy, do you know that?”
“Yes, Clown Smith. Never saying what's not true.”
“Veeeeery simple. Very good boy. You've earned this lollipop.”
The Great Clown from Above was euphoric.
“Do you know what divided people, boy? The borders. They were nervous about them. They created disputes, fears, wars, stupid confrontations. And on top of that, for defending them, they forced people to say what is not true. Oooooh! What a scare. Oooooh! What a fear. Don't cross the imaginary line if don’t want to be hurt. That's why the great founding Clowns eliminated the old countries of the world and their borders. They created four large areas of a purely administrative nature. The Top Zone, the Bottom Zone, the Left Zone and the Right Zone. So, everything was much simpler and people could breathe easy.”
“Fantastic Clown Smith, but how did you get so much in so little time?”
“Oh, oh boy. Success only comes after a great effort. My grandfather, one of the great founding Clowns, helped create the Official Clown Circus. The only global entity that doesn't start with WF. You know, World Federation Plagues and other organizations with names in English, the old dead language. At the Official Clown Circus, ten long years of studies in Applied Clownology await all aspiring clown candidates. Within it we must study great disciplines: Ethics, Acrobatics, Smiles, Honesty, Courage, Moral... While we study all these hard subjects, we must travel halfway around the world doing practices. Making people laugh in more than five different languages is a complicated task. In addition, we must always be attentive to ‘Never say that which is not true’. And finally, after those ten years, if our teachers think we are worthy, a highly qualified committee, composed of more than one hundred children from all over the world, chooses the leading clowns. Everyone knows the motto: ‘Only someone as innocent as a child can wisely choose your leader’.”
The Great Clown from Above stopped the juggling of red balls in his tracks.
“Oh, oh, oh, I’m sorry boy, I must appear on stage. I have a matter to discuss with some clown representatives. Please stay in the front row. Both of you are invited.”
“Thank you, Clown Smith.”
“Thank you, Great Clown,” said Corinne with a barely imperceptible thread of voice.
The Great Upper Clown went to his closet and put on a giant jacket with colored stripes. He sheathed himself in a giant red wig. And finally, he put on his round red nose. It was spectacular. Peter and Corinne followed him, and as he had promised, he sat them in the front row. Parliaments and courts had been replaced by circus tents. The opposition and the government discussed the affairs of the state by throwing pies in their faces, because according to the great clown leaders, it is better to undertake important things in a humorous way. The Great Clown Smith came out in the middle of the stage and with his big smile drawn in red he shouted:
“How are you aaaaall?”
The clown-like act had started, Peter, Corinne and the rest of the audience exploded with a Goooood!
The great hero
Peter drove the rented caravan under a scorching sun. The PPC van was in the workshop, a joint of tricky mechanical matters had broken down, forcing them to temporarily rent a vehicle. The new purchase had a thin sliding glass hood, which by order of Mrs. Corinne, was forbidden to cover, close or do anything that prevented the passage of the sacred sun through that place.
“That way I'll get a wonderful tan,” she said with a big smile that illuminated her face, as she cheerfully put on her sunglasses.
Peter, grumpy with so much sun, tried to think of something else. They had given him the address of the guy they were going to visit. The receptionist at Kentucky City Hall was very efficient, taking only two hours to check the information on her computer. After the Great Smoke, with the death of most computer scientists, a happy consensus opened among the few computer connoisseurs left alive. Some of them whispered forbidden words like GÜINDOUS, IPONES, YAVA and a thousand other nonsense.
All that hellish string of incompatible programs had been left behind with the whole old system. Throw the incompatibility out. The World Federation Programmers had created the definitive Operative System, free, compatible one hundred percent with all electronic device of the planet. The SOS, as the Super Operative System invented by WFP was affectionately called was a substantial improvement in global computing. In addition, the new programmers, full of good humor had taken the opportunity to include in that name, an implicit play on words, using as a base the famous dead language of antiquity, English.
In any case, despite great advances in computer science, the ineptitude of some receptionists had not improved much at that time.
“Will it be much longer? I get bored” Peter’s daydreams vanished with the advent of Corinne's mystical question, who added a yawn from his professional jargon of “I get mortally bored”.
“It's that house over there.”
Peter's index finger pointed to a large white house. The building had two floors with a huge porch at the bottom. The house was in the middle of a green grassy meadow and the estate contained several majestic looking oaks. The whole house was surrounded by wire fences. Large red-bottomed signs and white letters displayed: NON-SMOKING AREA.
Someone dressed in a white suit opened the front gate for them. Peter drove the caravan into the compound. The young man in the white clothes shaken his hands in a friendly way. Corinne, camera on her shoulder was the first to enter the house.
“We are Peter and Corinne; we are delighted to be able to visit Mr. N...
The young man interrupted him abruptly.
“If you call him ‘sir’, you are doomed. You must call him ‘Rick’. Just ‘Rick’.”
“Rick?” Peter replied.
“Yes. Call him Rick. Rick Grimmes. Follow me.”
The future interviewee was sitting in a rocking chair on a small balcony at the back of the house. Between his hands was a strange gray-faced doll. That figure did not have any human features, in the face of the alleged toy were missing eyes, nose, ears, eyebrows, hair. The strange figure wore a wide white gabardine, the hat of equal color, was surrounded by a blue ribbon and a scarf, also blue, appeared timidly under his neck. Rick looked at the inanimate object as if he were talking to it. On the torso of the doll were eight shimmering green buttons, the belt, colored as the buttons was tied tightly to the abdomen. The rag doll’s feet ended up in tiny red boots.
“Rick? Rick Grimmes? We are Peter and Corinne from the PPC.”
The man who answered to Rick Grimmes' name was sitting in a wheelchair. When he heard his name, he nervously left the doll on the floor. From the description in the psychiatric chart, the man must have been over a hundred years old, but it was barely noticeable. Rick took advantage of the pause to scratch with his right hand the leafy beard of his face.
“Please sit down,” commented the young man dressed in