The Complete Men School. Herlander Elias
Читать онлайн книгу.
the photos. As if in a strategic formation, the Complete Men gathered in the street, forming groups of two plus two. They were wearing Person sunglasses with silver side bands and Airwalk shiny lace less shoes, the Velcro models were their favorite ones. With their hands tucked in their pockets, the Complete ones commented several issues among themselves, as if they were not hiding anything from anyone. Around them, the passers-by crossed the street concerned with their own daily routines, and they could not figure what these characters were up to. And the voice kept on:
— Because everything was done in The Schools, which were no more than collective gatherings of apprentices and masters, the common incomplete ones thought these were festivities, rallies, excursion, associative meetings, street markets or free performative arts. But the truth is that the Complete ones are skillful, and since they have adapted themselves to the milieuwhere they are, they just could not be detected by the surrounding audience. Those who know them know they called the others as ‘Incomplete ones’. — the movie ended all of a sudden. Rafael got more bored, and despite the things he watched in the recording, they led him to think over the configuration that allows the subculture constitution: Complete Men, operations, statutes, tactical goals, Schools full of apprentices and masters, and so on. Well, Rafael managed to stay up-to-date about the outlines of this strictly urban phenomenon, which, judging by the narrator in film, it has branches expanding all over England, France, Sweden and the US.
Rafael finished watching the movie late at night, and then he decided to call Roberta:
— Hello Rafael! So, do you have any news concerning our boys? — she gently asked.
— Yes, I have. But have not you watched the videotape?
— I’ve watched it, but it seemed a bit redundant to me… Not to mention that the tape was in a seriously bad condition. It did not add much to me… There was nothing more about it than it was already on the notes.
— Please notice Roberta, I also have watched the tape but with the sound up and from a certain point in time there is a narrator’s voice that speaks about the events. There is the part of The School, though there is a whole moment in which the voice guides us. To be honest with you it seems the most important of it all. — Rafael concluded, convinced he might have found a loose end.
— But I watched the tape with no sound on! Then that keeps me more curious. You must take a look at the notes too, ok?
— Yes, of course, but it seems that I start to better understand the contours of this Complete Men subculture.
— Great, I am happy about it. You already know if the thing pays off… count on me and we split the credits. All I need is to speak with some friends of mine who work in TV networks.
— Ok! — Rafael started to laugh.
— But look, do you know someone that is an expert in analyzing photography?
— Yes, why?
— Because the black and white pictures have a lot to tell.
— Ok! Please speak with Paulo Renato here at the newspaper office. Tell him I’m your friend. Stay sharp, kisses.
— Kiss. Look… I am very thankful — Rafael ended up widening his smile, he was as happy as ever.
October 19, 2000
BAM! Rafael woke up with the alarm clock in high volume playing a track from Alice In Chains, besides it was almost lunch time, so angrily he hit the small machine. Today is the day to meet and speak with Paulo Renato about the pictures Roberta has sent to him. There were hundreds of people passing by on the streets in plain Fall. Rafael left home in a hurry, without having lunch, and then he faced a gray day, with clouds and heavy moist air. One could almost frame an image of this day and place it in a museum for depressive romanticism. As usual, Rafael was feeling pissed off by having to penetrate the dense crowd in order to catch the public transportation. He hates masses of people. Moreover, his media player with headphones could not be turned on because he had forgotten to charge it. It was in one of these moments of euphoria, stress and lack of patience that he noticed a street billboard while he was on the bus, where it was written:
“We are the ones who wrote the book you are reading.
CM School”
"What the hell…?!”— he said to himself blasphemously while feeling awkward. “That is the kind of language that the Complete Men use and there is a matching signature on it. ‘CM School’ may only mean ‘Complete Men School’ or something like that. Holly Molly…!” Rafael was surprised with the coincidence and now he just began to doubt everything.
The bus crowded with people stopped. It opened its exit doors dumping its passengers and their umbrellas in the bus stop on a corner next to a blue-mirrored glass skyscraper that looked like if it was hugged by silver clouds. Rafael stepped in and then asked on the reception what the floor of the newspaper office was. Already in the elevator, Rafael was observing the pictures. He felt as if these pictures were trying to pull him into them, the respective black and white world of the stealth portrait. Rafael just could not look away from the characters in the photos. He felt closer and closer to them, and Harold Buds’s ambient music became louder intensifying his photo-real vertigo. He thought to himself “Who were these guys?” Rafael felt an inner tension every time he noticed the poses from the dark, sober, blurry characters, who most likely were the very Complete Men. The ambience, the figures and the complicity attitude from the photographer was something pretty mysterious. As a journalist, Rafael was only looking for an answer to what seemed to be the report of his lifetime, given that so far, he only had spent time with minor articles. These were the kind of images that are shown to illustrate words that do not say a thing that matters.
DING! The elevator campaign bell rang as he reached the 49thfloor. With a cigarette on his lips, Rafael felt impressed with what he saw in front of him as the elevator door opened its doors. A vast open space with hundreds of networked computers tucked into the interactive office furniture occupied the whole floor. Here it was the newspaper office where Roberta worked for, the Autonomous Zone. A very fancy lady passed pretty fast next to Rafael’s nose and informed him that it was not allowed to smoke in that place. While Rafael was smashing his Davidoff on an Eva Solo’s mahogany ashtray sided with chrome, Paulo Renato arrived.
—Hi! You are Mr.Sterling, right?
—Yes, yes! How are you? — he greeted him, returning the question.
— I’m fine, thanks. So, what brings you here?
— I spoke to Roberta and she told me that I could count on you for some help. I need a hand with these photos we are using for a research article.
— Ok, ok … no problem about it. Show me the pictures. — said Paulo Renato. Rafael opened the light brown soft envelope and gave the photos to Renato.
— Hmmm. The photos are interesting! I am going to take them and digitize in the drum scanner that is the powerful one. Then we will retouch them with Photoshop to seem what else lies underneath them. These photos seem like Caravaggio or Rembrandt’s paintings. Man Ray did some works like these. Actually, maybe Helmut Newton or Anton Corbijn.
—What do you mean by that? That the photos seem like paintings? — Rafael asked doubtedly.
—Precisely. I presume you want to know is if we can obtain a sharper and clearer image from the photos, the characters in them, I mean, or any other evidence, whatever suits better to the contents of your research, right?
— Yeah, that is it! — exclaimed Rafael hoping to see Renato working the pictures out.
— But look Mr. Sterling, the images are high-quality. Not only I am going to need some time to scan them properly, but also it is going to take days to study and modify them. Since they are in black and white that hardens my job and the computer’s task to examine the footage. Consider that we need an algorithm for a powerful sharpness I am going to need to use a software of my own after I apply to it Photoshop.
— In sum? — Rafael simplified, knowing it was not going to be something of an easier