Sunday, 5 June 2011

Prophecies - Christian Lisboa

A friend called me so worried about the unusual solar activity. He said, verbatim:
“Do you think there will be a solar storm next year?”
“Every year there are solar storms” I replicated.
“But NASA says there will be a big solar storm, which could cause the death of many people. Is it the end of the world?”
“Wait a minute. NASA has not published that. You've read sensational interpretations on mass media”.
“Can we talk? Will you have time tomorrow?”
“Okay. Tomorrow, after work”.
The next evening, on the Americas Avenue, we met on a Starbucks cafe. I asked for a cappuccino with a touch of Amaretto. I did not pay attention about the Alberto order, because he was talking me hastily about his fears. The prophecies of Nostradamus, mixed with the "Mayan Prophecy", the global warming, the rising of the sea levels by two centimeters, the Catholic Church crisis, the black pope ...
“Who is the black pope?”, I asked.
“Obama, off course. It's evident...”
“Obama is a black man, but he isn't the pope. It is not even religious”.
“When the prophecy was wrote” he said, “the pope represented the greatest power on earth. Now the world's main power lies on the president of USA. The prophecy about the ‘black pope’ refers to him. We are at the end of time, don't you understand?”
“Wait a minute, Alberto” I said”. “You're forcing things. You're making your own interpretations”.
“Oh, yeah? And what about the earthquakes this year? When had occurred many earthquakes of great magnitude in different continents? When, eh? Tell me...”
“That have an explanation. A major earthquake causes a tremendous geophysical disturbance. The isostasy theory...”
“At that moment it happened. I was not looking him directly, I only noticed that the big body of my friend suddenly disappeared. So, without further. Liquefied, as melted to a very high temperature”. All that remained of the great Alberto, academic, essayist, adviser to the Sociology Faculty, was a puddle on the floor, no more than five feet diameter. And fluid in the chair and on the table, where he rested his arm. A drop of the fluid described a parabola and landed in my coffee. I pushed the cup, aghast. I looked around. Nobody seemed to have noticed the horrible tragedy that I had witnessed. Life went on normally, even in its smallest details. 
"So happens the big changes?” I thought, “without people concern, until it's too late?”
I called the waitress and ordered another coffee.

Original tittle: Profecías
Translation: Christian Lisboa

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