MONNALISA BYTES

Science Storytelling

8′ 51″

Pigments and cellulose

Text Stefano Lazzari
Images Davide Fraterno
Translation Stefano Lazzari
Editing Nick Pearce
Which decisions would you entrust the roll of a die?

Lucas was running at breakneck speed, heading towards the city walls, now clearly visible. Tall, built of stone that appeared pale in the moonlight, they watched impassive to the escape of the boy, chased by two men in uniform. 

I have a good advantage, at least on Shorty. The other one though, despite being sturdy, runs like hell! But if I go through the south gate and into the woods I could lose them both!

He quickly rubbed his thumb on the fingerprint scanner, the door opened as a voice welcomed him, reminding him that it was less than half an hour before curfew and recommending he stay on the marked trails. 

Lucas felt justified in ignoring the suggestion, hoping that improvisation would reward his escape. The forest he was in formed a ring around the city and was surrounded by walls on both sides. If I go into the trees they will never find me! Maybe I can even get back into town and be home before curfew!

Meanwhile, the taller of the two men had entered the woods. The little one, out of breath and a little sweaty, had signalled him to continue the chase on his own. 

Lucas was panting, but he continued to run at a good pace. What do those two want? They are certainly from the government, the uniforms look like Proluo. Why are the special police after me? For the story that I wrote this morning? It doesn’t make sense, my mother has already punished me for it, and she has even informed the school and the ministry! 

As a branch scratched his face, Lucas continued for a few more meters, trampling mushrooms and leaves on the ground. Then he stopped for a moment, listening, but he could only hear his own breathing and his heart pounding. His big green eyes were getting used to the darkness. No one was around, it seemed.

What’s wrong with me writing a simple story, with my protagonist Hank and his random way of making decisions, rolling a dice? It’s harmless! Why on earth has the government banned writing, anyway? I had gone out, like an idiot, with a dice in my pocket, looking for inspiration, and all of a sudden the police are looking for me!? Lucas, focus. Try to understand if you can retrace your steps, maybe you’ve lost them. 

Suddenly, the shorter of the two men came out of the trees, and Lucas started backing away. How did Shorty reach me? And where’s the big guy?

“Stop, I just want to talk, really!”

An oblique smile widened on Lucas’ face. Right, talk, that’s why you’re chasing me, to have a chitchat? The kid sprinted away again, his muscles sore, his mouth dry, with a slight metallic taste on the palate.

The man pulled out a radio and mumbled something. Then he gasped, loosening the collar of his shirt, stretched from his protruding belly.

Did mom report me because I went out despite the punishment? Or was she just worried, and she called the police? I can’t believe it! But above all, how do I get out of this mess? What would my main character do? Hank, what would you do? You always get away with anything, help me out! 

A few minutes later, breathless, Lucas reached  a small clearing, perfectly circular and completely empty. No trees means no protection, better not to cross it. Wait, Hank wouldn’t decide this way. Hank would roll a dice, to be unpredictable and escape his fate. Okay, a number greater than three, and I’ll cross the clearing.

Lucas entered the glade, the dice in his pocket, as the number four had come out. After about twenty steps he thought he saw a red light, at the height of the lawn. He rapidly flattened himself on the ground. Hank, is this the advice you give me? There’s someone here! He looked closer, but the red light seemed to have disappeared. He listened for a few seconds, heard nothing, and decided to continue.

He proceeded quickly, sneaking across the grass not to be seen. Then he bumped his head against something hard and felt a slight jolt. He massaged his skull, passing his hands, flayed by the branches, through his sweaty hair. How can this be? There is nothing here! 

His right hand told him otherwise: leaning forward, he felt a solid wall and another shock, slightly stronger than the first. 

He picked up a twig and tried again, but even the wood seemed to bump into something apparently invisible. The small spark that was produced proved to him that the shock was real.

Insulated by the wooden twig, he walked along what seemed to be a well-defined perimeter. What is this? And how do I get to the other side of the clearing? Then he heard a voice calling him. They found me! It’s Shorty, again! How does he do it, I didn’t even hear him!

“Listen to me, we don’t have much time.”

“What do you want from me?!” Lucas asked, backing away, receiving another electric shock.

“Get away from there! And stop running away, I can’t take it anymore, and it’s useless!”

Okay, Hank, you get a second chance. I can’t roll the dice, so the deal is this: if he takes a step towards me, I attack him, if he stays still, I’ll listen to what he has to say.

The man’s right foot had just hinted at a movement, as Lucas threw himself at him.

The agent took a quick step to the side, as light as a dancer, despite his size. He locked Lucas’s stretched right arm with his hands, and exerted a strong pressure on the kid’s elbow with his forearm. The boy almost felt his bones break and collapsed on his knees, panting. Who is this guy?!

“If I let go, do you promise not to run away?”

The kid nodded, unable to articulate any word for the pain. The little guy released his sore arm, and Lucas massaged it, while he slowly got up. Then, with a sudden gap to the right, followed by one to the left, the man lost his balance long enough for Lucas to distance him again.

After a few steps, he turned around to check the advantage he had gained and saw the little guy huffing. The man mumbled something in his radio and Lucas smiled smugly. Well done, Hank! I knew you wouldn’t let me down! Lucas was about to leave the clearing, heading back into the woods, when something hit him in the back and he fell to the ground.

“Is that him, boss?” asked the taller and more robust of the two men.

“We could have asked him, if you hadn’t knocked him out. But I do think so, the fingerprint from the south door, Lucas Kepac, confirms it. Unlikely that at this hour there is someone else in the forest.”

“Shall we make him disappear? We could say that he went out from the other side of the forest, descending from a tree.”

“Too complicated, and don’t forget that his mother reported him. With an injection of Delerine we erase the last twelve to twenty-four hours of memory and it’s done, much simpler.”

“And how do we justify it to the parents, boss? He will be a wreck for at least a day, and he’ll be ranting and raving!”

“Have you read the memo today?”

“No, why?”

“The boy was caught this morning writing without permission, fiction, it seems.”

“That too? Poor mother! But what are you getting at, boss?”

“The son is one of the smart ones, he goes to the Special Science School. The parents are simple employees, ready to accept any explanation as long as their child continues to attend school.”

“So what?”

“Let’s tell them what is probably the truth: the boy has grown, his metabolism has changed and his doses of vitamins and supplements must be adjusted. This would justify his behaviour these past days. So as not to waste time, we started with the first dose ourselves.”

“And the dose change always causes some imbalance! Brilliant, boss, you really are the best!”

“Okay, okay, thanks, Carter. Now give him the Delerine and the adult dosage of vitamins and supplements. Then take the boy to his mother, she must be worried sick.”

“What about you, boss?”

“I’m going to sleep. Tell the mother that I’ll visit her son the day after tomorrow, to make sure everything’s okay.”

Deputy detective Jones showed up at the Kepac house two days later, in his eccentric waistcoat under his blue government jacket. Anne Kepac greeted him with deference and a slightly watery coffee.

Jones asked her, in his deep voice, if her son was better. Anne said that the new vitamins were miraculous, and apart from a little tiredness Lucas was fine, busy with homework in his room. 

Jones praised her parenthood and care for such a promising boy, and added that a little tiredness with the change of vitamins was normal. 

Then he asked her to see Lucas in his room, to talk to him for a few minutes. Anne, honored by this, said that in the meantime she would prepare another coffee. 

Jones entered Lucas’ room, closed the door behind him and smiled at the kid. 

“Hi Lucas, I am Deputy Detective Jones. I found you two nights ago, you were lost in the woods. Are you better now? Do you remember anything about what you did or saw that night?”

Lucas shook his head. 

“I don’t remember anything from the last few days.”

Jones activated the little jammer in his vest pocket and Lucas’ computer screen began to flicker. Then he continued, approaching Lucas and speaking in a lower voice.

“I don’t have much time, Lucas, so listen to me. Two days ago, at school, you started writing a story. Don’t look at me like that, it’s ok. You felt like it and you did it. I came to see you today, to give you this. Do you know what it is? It’s a notebook, made of paper. It’s not only in museums, as they say. With this ink pen you can write on it. Total freedom, no control. Write whatever you want in it. If you say you got it from me, you’ll get in trouble, no one will believe you. The alternative is that you keep the notebook and agree to see me once a month. You will tell your mother that you want to join Proluo’s forensic team and you want to talk with me about the working environment. You have many questions, I know, but for now you’ll have to keep your curiosity at bay. Let’s put it this way, you work for me, okay? Undercover. Hide the notebook, hide it well. Watch your mother, look for a place where she will never find it. And ask her to call me in a month. Is that clear?”

The boy nodded, almost in a trance. Jones went back to Anne, took his second coffee and left her his number, just in case.

Lucas hid his notebook and pen in the space between the closet and the ceiling. The layer of dust he found seemed reassuring to him. He took a dice from one of his box games. If a number larger than three comes out, I’ll do what Jones said.

The dice rolled and showed a three. Lucas took the dice, looked in the direction of the notebook, on top of the cupboard. Then he rolled again. Six, I knew it!  

To be continued…

STEFANO LAZZARI was born and raised in Milan, where he graduated in Chemical Engineering at the Politecnico di Milano. After his PhD at ETH in Zurich he moved to MIT in Boston, where he worked on mathematical models describing the formation of polymeric, colloidal, and semiconductor materials. He lives in Frankfurt where he does research in a chemical company. In his spare time he reads, plays chess, dances tango and writes. Here you can find some short stories he wrote during his years in Boston.

DAVIDE FRATERNO relaxes by creating harmony and managing assignments. He fluctuates between creative impulses and rational organizational instincts. Little is enough to attract his curiosity, and if we talk about music he is already on track. He deals with graphic design, art direction, photography, video making, web design and 2D and 3D digital animation. He doesn’t stop in front of an obstacle, on the contrary, he is always driven to go beyond it and  get out of his comfort zone.

NICK PEARCE is a professor of geochemistry at the University of Aberystwyth in Wales and the University of Bologna. He holds a Bachelor’s degree in geochemistry and a PhD from Durham University. Originally from Manchester he now lives between Wales, Leeds, Milan and Bologna. He used to enjoy rock climbing but now it’s Negroni, Ridley Scott movies, motorcycles from the 70s and 80s, and his three cats.