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12.10.04


I remember little Nicholas sitting on a high stool with the hands stuck on the control, in front of a smoked glass and behind flashing lights, agonizing and sweating. I intended to eat the balls and avoid the little ghosts. My score was quite low, although I spent tons of half-Euros to feed the machine. I let nobody take my place before I spent my very last penny. I knew that my scores were ultimately bad. Nonetheless, I wanted to stay in front of the screen. In fact, I didn’t really bother about being either a spectator or a player. I often had more fun with the others’ achievements. I was happy, as if I had passed all the stages.

If I was devoted to books and not to video games, today I might even be wise. I had excluded this possibility from my life ever since I was a child. I owned a console (Sega Master System) and I carried it with me at our country cottage in summer. I invited my friends for a group daze and exercise of the fingers. We all gaped idly at the screen, screaming or moving our hands and feet playfully. Our goals were different. We didn’t have Pac-Man or Sonic the hedgehog. We swirled in stone cylinders or passed beyond bridges that were falling apart, in order to pick the various rings flying over our heads. All of us were blue hedgehogs with sharp red shoes, forced to keep our promises and destroy the crazy scientist who tortured the animals of the forest. The whole scene was routine in our minds.

I don’t know if the hours I spent in front of the television were to blame. Nonetheless, every time that I undertake a mission, I prefer to imagine that all the difficulties I come up against are not much different from those that I would have to face in a video game. That’s how my reality is turned into a symbol. That’s the only way I can undergo hardship. Many years ago I wouldn’t even dare to imagine another dimension hidden in a stupid game. Today I am relieved when I wake up. A new week begins. It’s Monday. I have to come at work in a great mood. I open my eyes and tell myself: ‘Try to swallow all the balls by the end of the day. If you lose your strength, eat a little strawberry, but don’t you dare messing up with the little ghosts.’.On the screen glass I see myself again. Now I am 25 years old. I am not shaved and this makes me look scary. It might be because I am severe and speechless. In what way do I look like that silly kid of the video games? I don’t have the same reckless and carefree attitude. Some say that I have become mature in my way of thinking. I don’t answer, because I don’t know what to answer. I have run out of coins anyway