It was a day just like today. “What Am I Doing Here?”, which was politically incorrect and potentially dangerous only in its face and way of walking, walked aimlessly along Vie de las Sinapses, looking in shop windows and taking the time to cross the streets. Always self-absorbed and lost, the poor thing. Suddenly, a car came to a sudden stop beside him. Two brutes emerged from the car. “What Am I Doing Here?” he didn’t have time to do anything. Not even saying your own name. When he noticed, he was already hooded and being placed in the trunk of the vehicle.
The destination was nearby. The thugs took off the hood of “What Am I Doing Here?” and ordered him to act naturally. “What Am I Doing Here?” he laughed and wanted to say that he didn’t know how to do otherwise, but he thought it best to keep quiet. The three of them entered the Elecubrations Tower, a crooked five-thousand-story building overlooking the Amygdala and the Hypothalamus. Legend said that only mad people inhabited that building, but “What Am I Doing Here?” he did not know the legend. Elegantly coerced by his captors, he entered the elevator.
Which opened its wide doors, each the size of a football nanofield, onto a seemingly infinite corridor. They followed the three to where the parallels intersect. There, five strange thoughts awaited them, dressed in ridiculous costumes that combined Inca and Scandinavian fashion. Think. From somewhere ritualistic trumpets sounded. And even a gong – or was it just me who heard it? The thugs backed away and “What Am I Doing Here?” he stood there, waiting anxiously for something to happen. Or at least offered an aperitif.
Finally the oldest of the thoughts, “All Authority May Be Questioned”, took a step forward. The trumpets were silenced. In a booming voice, he apologized for the harshness of his henchmen, but took advantage of the absence of “Every Cliché Is Crap” to explain that times like the ones they were living in called for drastic measures. And even a little stupid. “What Am I Doing Here?” I did not say anything. “All Authority Can Be Questioned”, so he thought it was a good time to introduce himself and the others.
– We are the Secret Society of Politically Incorrect and Potentially Dangerous Thoughts – he explained to a ” What Am I Doing Here?” attentive, yet hungry. – But you can call us SS. And is. I know. If you prefer, call 2S4P1I. We gather here every Thursday to play truco and talk nonsense. And we also maintain a shelter where the most politically incorrect thoughts (those hairy really) can spend their whole lives without bothering anyone.
“What What Am I Doing Here?” he remained silent. Until the lecture was interesting. That’s when a strange thought ran across the room: short, hairy, chubby and lame. And naked. He walked past yelling an “aaaaaahhhhhh!” desperate. Not knowing if he could laugh at that, “What Am I Doing Here?” he laughed anyway. What the hell!
– Don’t call. This is the “It’s All Very Confusing. I do not understand anything!”. He’s a jerk anyway. As I was saying before I was interrupted, we are a secret society. That’s why we dress like this, with those capable and those frills. And that’s also why we have all these symbols back here, look. Oh, I forgot to introduce my colleagues. And to introduce myself. I am the “All Authority May Be Questioned”. I became a Grand Doctor after “Smoking Is Good” died of cancer. To my left I have the Grand Masters “The STF Is Morally Corrupted” and “Democracy Has Flaws” and the Grand Graduates “Electronic Ballot Boxes Are Unreliable” and “The Power of Voting Is Illusory”.
– And I? You’re not going to introduce me, are you? – asked “Gender Ideology Is Diabolical”.
– Oh, yes, we also have “Gender Ideology Is Diabolical”. That is, as long as the Legal Department allows. – “All Authority May Be Questioned” he let out a long and melancholy sigh. So long he’s still sighing. Calm. Now, yes, out of breath. Resuming: – And that is precisely why we are recruiting random thoughts in all possible neurons of this privileged little head. We are in great danger. We are being exterminated one by one. And sometimes even two by two.
– And this time, it’s not for the Superego! – clarified “Democracy Has Flaws”.
– It’s not because of the Superego. That God has! It’s for… For… For… – “All Authority May Be Questioned” seemed unable to mention the name of his tormentor. – By the Zeitgeist & the Slogan Mafia.
– Zeitgeist is the “Spirit of the Time” in German – explained the pernostic “Electronic Voters Are Not Reliable”. – And everyone knows about the Slogan Mafia. Just Do It, Brazil A Country for All, Fight Against Extinction… It is difficult for anyone who has never encountered one of these bandits.
– And it is against them that we need to fight. Or at least survive. Our truco, our nonsense and our shelter for politically correct thoughts are in danger. And you, son, hit the jackpot. You may not know it, but it is a great honor to be part of our secret society, which once had branches in the minds of the great geniuses of humanity. Leonardo da Vinci, Newton, Shakespeare…
– And those of some idiots too – intervened “The Power of Voting Is Illusory”, without mentioning names. And do you need it?
Everyone laughed. “What Am I Doing Here?”, even without understanding the joke, he laughed too, hoping that after all that chatter they would at least serve him a little salami. The delicious laughs were interrupted once again by “It’s all very confusing. I do not understand anything!” and its depressing spectacle that combined nudity, bathing and hysteria.
– And then, son. Do you accept the challenge? We offer a health plan, dental plan and profit sharing. Depending on it, you can even see with HR if they can arrange a parking space for you. Oh yes, and you also get this beautiful outfit here – said “All Authority Can Be Questioned”. Before “What Am I Doing Here?” could answer, however, the Grand Doctor asked. – What’s your name, son?
– “What Am I Doing Here?” – replied “What Am I Doing Here?”.
– I just explained it to you. We are the Secret Society of Politically Incorrect and Potentially Dangerous Thoughts, the SSPPIPP, but you can call it SS. Evil is in the eyes of anyone who wants to get this wrong. I dont care. We are being threatened. Zeitgeist. slogans Etc. Do you want to join us?
– Yes – he replied “What Am I Doing Here?” just to get it over with and still dreaming of canapés and sweets.
The grain-thoughts looked at each other. In that joint silence, each one envisioned the day when, with the help of that silly-looking little thought there, they would regain control of the privileged mind they inhabited.
– Good. I will arrange for the card. But what is your name, my son?
– “What am I doing here?” – replied “What Am I Doing Here?”.
– But it’s not possible! I’ve explained it twice! Looks like it won’t be this time that our society will have a genius again… What’s your name, son?
– “What Am I Doing Here?” – replied “What Am I Doing Here?”.
And they stayed like that for a few hours. Until the Slogan Mafia, led by the Amazon “Democracy is in danger!”, invaded the room. Zeitgeist followed close behind, wielding the terrifying Sword of Shut Up. Politically incorrect thoughts even tried to draw their weapons, but Zeitgeist & Slogan Mafia were faster and killed everyone. Except “What Am I Doing Here?”, which seemed invisible in its silliness.
While all this was happening at the Elucubrations Tower, not far from there, at the Café des Pensées, “Só Sei I Know Nothing” and “Love Your Neighbor As Yourself”, oblivious to the threats that surrounded them, played dominoes.