One afternoon I had an interesting discussion with the doctor. He came, adjusted his glasses, and talked to me about the formidable power consumed in playing the role of the defeated — the weak, powerless, frightened one — which is altogether greater than playing the role of the solid, steadfast, stoic, severe, character — the victor. The doctor who came to keep an eye on me was right, and that lady professor was consequently right too — ha! She wasn’t stupid, the daughter of the crazy old woman who spent the rest of her life bent over the grave of her executed husband, Monica’s father. Look, Little Moni wasn’t dumb. But change was advantageous from all points of view. I listened to the doctor attentively, and I understood him. He had a gentle voice and was the subtlest of my caregivers.
They considered my intention to kill the professor grievous but interesting, and they didn’t interrupt me as I told them about it. I continued telling the story coherently, logically, and they didn’t contradict me, no, not at alclass="underline" they’d been reviewing this matter for a while, and that was normal. They told me that the shock (the moment when I lost control of the reins). . that was the problem, but, still, it was only an effect. They were searching for causes, or in other words the etiology, so that they could prescribe the right treatment.
And the treatments were very good. I managed to sleep. That made them happy and calmed them down. After several months I understood that it doesn’t help to rush in and out of treatment if certain details are still eating you alive. And it’s not good to pay too much attention to details either. You have to work in an orderly way, get some rest, have some fun (within reason), keep yourself busy, and work without fail, otherwise, you’re screwed. But first understand what you like, what suits you best, and busy yourself with that, though not abusively. The principle is to cure yourself of tristesse, no, of triumph, no. . of temerity, that’s it, to cure yourself of temerity. . to stop believing that you can make any old thing of yourself or that the others have to do who-knows-what, and in general for you to keep to your place, and embrace that order, which is to say, you shouldn’t be looking left and right all the time. You should see to your business, work for specific results. This can be achieved and enjoyed.
Of course I couldn’t change my trade. It was a wonderful trade, like all trades, except that I should work in the open air, which could be easily arranged, of course.
They always smiled in a friendly way. They told me I should work in a place where I wouldn’t have too much time for idleness or trifles — it was better like that — because you shouldn’t have too much time, and you shouldn’t get too concerned, either. You see to your business. Don’t let yourself wander. We can’t solve everything. And those people who were watching over me, most of them young, like me, that’s what they were doing: they had a great deal of patience, really a tremendous amount, even with a person like me. I would need to become more sober, no, more sociable — I was still messing up letters, words, ideas; I’d stammer occasionally, but I was getting better: when the treatment was over, I was thinking and expressing myself clearly.
That’s the main thing — I mustn’t isolate myself, I should seek people out, observe, as one should, their lapses, no, not lapses, their lives, and life in general. And the inverse of that: I shouldn’t spend too much time looking left and right, but that was only an apparent contradiction. They told me not to observe too much, but that I should still look. I shouldn’t get into details. In short, I should be engaged with others, but in a certain way. Ultimately everything revers. . no, revenges itself, rots and decays — look at the evidence. I agreed with them that everything depended on my attitude. An effort of will was needed; after all, I wasn’t a child. I’d work patiently and precisely, and to find pleasure in this would be even better. . even the smallest things. For example: shaving. That’s been disgusting for a while, of course. Hair keeps on growing, perpetually, and every which way — black, blond, red hairs, white hairs, some longer, others shorter, dirty, sweaty. . again the foam, the blade, the alcohol — you can lose your mind. On top of that, you keep seeing yourself in the mirror, too — that bloated, aging, sleepy, yellow face. This is exactly the place for willpower. Once. Twice. Then things begin to feel normal again — you stop thinking about everything. Shaving is a hygienic operation, a daily ritual. Just don’t stop and think about every motion or analyze every single strand of hair. The razor, the foam, and the alcohol are organized in the mirror: don’t study your face, but avoid nicking yourself, too. It’s the same with everything. Matters have to be solved efficiently and quickly, without dedicating yourself wholeheartedly to them. Only I wasn’t stupid, and there was no solution except the exercise of will.
From my small cell, every day I saw a small rectangle of blue, and there was no other solution. Therefore I helped them with my recovery. In the end, I would need to gather my strength, the will to work in a useful, therapeutic way. I had the will, indeed. It wasn’t too easy for me to follow all their advice, then or afterward.
But there was no other solution. I got healthy.
• • •
The crane driver and the workers from the concrete station are the first to arrive. They check the state of the aggregates, which should be in optimal proportion, without any impurities. They test the cables, the lifting hooks for the bucket, the control levers. And the drivers have to arrive at least half an hour before the others. When work begins the buckets must start, the concrete has to be prepared already, and the trucks need to be ready to start.
When the concrete pouring begins, we carefully prepare the surface, or in other words, treat the old concrete over which the fresh batch will be poured. It is washed. With several hoses at once, pressurized water removes any foreign substances. Then, the surface is scrubbed with wire brushes till it’s perfectly clean. A thin film of mortar is poured, a kind of “cement milk,” over which the concrete is poured. The preparation of the surface, which needs to be as rough as possible for maximum adherence, takes a while, so the other workers end up arriving an hour or two later, but they stay later, too.
The best days are those when we pour. The high-capacity buckets sway above us. Full of concrete, two come from one direction on one cable, and then two empties leave in the other direction on the second cable. Noisily, the concrete flows near us. A powerful mass descends suddenly, and you can tell right away if it’s well prepared: not too runny, not to thick. We drop in the concrete vibrators: the granules knock into each other, scattering and blending, and liquefaction occurs gradually, a continuously better mixture, until — perfect! We hurry to pour as much as possible. Some people don’t pay close enough attention to the concrete vibrators: they don’t adjust the RPMs. I’ve warned them about this many times. The pouring days are the most stressful, the fullest. The bustle peaks: everyone’s nervous; they run around and become negligent. They don’t always check that the screens — the soldered carcasses of the armature — have been mounted in the correct position and if they were brushed for rust and dirt. They’re glad when a lot of concrete is poured without interruption in an accelerated rhythm. They work without talking, and their gestures take on a kind of obstinacy. Only when there’s some problem at the station or the electricity cuts off — who knows why — and the buckets hang suspended in the air, do they finally start getting mad. But they also get mad if you ask them to straighten something, or to double-check something — in other words, if you hold them up in some way. When the concrete comes out too runny, it has to be communicated to the station right away: the ratio needs to be checked, the proportion of water to cement or gravel or sand has to be altered. It takes a while to make these changes. It happens too that the bucket doesn’t close perfectly. Cement milk pours out of it. The concrete becomes weak. The bucket needs to be repaired.