Orally Transmitted

- Back off, mother fucker! - The boy was dressed in blue, big eyes, hair in distress. He didn't move. He was the first on a line of a hundred other young men. They were waiting for a decision. They want to know the future. The boy was bleeding.
- Do you want to have more? Are you hungry? Do you want to eat a bullet? - They were stranded on a muddy road. This was long ago, the roads were just like that, no tarmac, no bricks. From far, the tenth boy on that slobby column, spits his lungs out and starts to shout.
- Fuck you, man! Go home, go feed your wife with your brainless mind. Can't you see we are not leaving? We came to stay. We want to know the future and we want to know it now!
A close up to the man and a travelling around his face would show spots of sweat running around from is forehead. The sweat in panic, someone would say. But that's not for now. That's for somewhere else.
They were all dressed in tones of blue, the boys, like they were all from the same school, or made on the same factory, from the same mother and father who didn't have anything else to do but making babies. Or maybe they were just grown-ups from the start. You could never guess.
- Alright, you don't want to hear. This is it. This is how it will go on. This is the first episode of your future. - And saying that he lays a fire gun on his hands, a Shostakovich or a Malevich from the 19th Century. Yes, we never know. We can never guess what's real real from our eyes.
- The future? - The first boy said. - Are you pretending you can talk about the future? Who the hell are you anyway? - The man looked around, looked through his shoulder. In the back there was a river. A dark one, but fresh. Where he used to spend most of his time with his wife when he was happy. His wife Areatha. The sky was dripping a type of moisture that if would not be transparent would be like blood. The man looks up to the sky and closes his eyes whispering.
- Areatha? Is that you? Is all this made by you? - And then he remembers. He remembers the faces of all the boys. The names. Ægir, Elli, Suttung, Thokk, Þrymr, Loki, Hymir, Angrboda, Fornjót, Bergelmir, Gjálp and Hyrrokkin. The beautiful Utgardaloki, on the back, that is always whistling something. Kari and Snær, the twins. Mökkurkálfi, the short eyed. Yes, and Hræsvelgr, the older one. How could he forget. They were all his sons.
From the back, Þrúðgelmir waves, he cannot speak, he just waves. Laufey knows what he wants to say and tells to everybody in his birdish voice, standing to the side.
- Is not the future, is not that we want to know the day after, tomorrow or after tomorrow. We just want to know what are we doing here. What are we supposed to do.
The man, named Italia, nails down to his knees and then, loosing out his fire gun, the Asimov or the Bessmertny, collapses on the floor and dies. That was the first episode of his future: The End.
After that, just the next second, all the boys began to walk in different directions. They just suddenly knew what to do. They would spread the word and conquer the world.
Urd stays. He holds up the gun, and looking to the river, he smiles, thinking about his beautiful lady waiting for him in the fresh and dark water.


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