Memories Of Our Days

-Giulia, Giulia- Giovanni said with a tone of desperation in his voice – being good or bad does not mean anything anymore…I don’t even know what is important anymore….do you get it?…What is considered important? –

Nobody could answer that question.

Over the next few days the doctor seemed to recover. He managed to get up and sit in the armchair beside the bed for a while. He was more and more withdrawn, he did not say anything, not a word to accuse his attackers nor to thank who had been by his side, his eyes staring down as to try and forget the world around him.

He passed away this way, in a disheartened silence that not even all the memories of his life could make it better.

It occurred that dr Marinucci was in touch with a long-standing school friend in Rome with home he had a fraternal friendship. He was a high valued university professor who refused to join the political party and was not behind in showing his open criticism towards the new exceptional laws approved by the regime. He was now so close to his retirement so he was lifted from position so he left university but was still against the system. He had been threatened many times, he would let off all his anger and disappointment speaking with his old mate, in person or over the phone, but he did not realise that he was being monitored. That was dr Marinucci’s fault: to share the ideas and the actions with whom dared to be against them.

Giovanni now knew that all the phone lines, all the public places were being tapped and that they had to be informed about all of the few private subscribers, who they were, how they behaved and what political party they were a member of.

The grief for the death of dr Marinucci, with whom they had shared many joys and concerns, was amplified by the concern. They had a phone now in the house. Giulia had insisted to get one - …this way Rudi can contact us as he wishes from Milan-. What was considered a real technological miracle was now considered as a danger, also because Rudi did not hide his clear opposition to the regime.

1 Chapter XV

In Milan

- From now on we must be more careful-

-More careful to what, Rudi, to what we write? To what we listen to? To how we speak? To what we think? – Fosco was talking angrily

-No …no…I did not mean that….I was saying… watch our backs more carefully…-

-Actually don’t you think that what happened could mark a turning point, which should encourage us to take actions in a different way, to take part more directly to the events and not just write about them? –

-Fosco, why don’t you think that it is not enough? Isn’t that already a way to fight? Isn’t that too an action that we take?-

The two friends were sitting at the usual family-run restaurant and were talking under their breaths. They had chosen a table far from everyone, a small table for two close to the wall, as far as possible from the few customers. They were waiting for Totò to drop over the food. Fosco’s face showed worry, his eyes were staring at the tablecloth. With his elbows on the table, he kept his hands together in front of his mouth and the words were coming out with difficulty, as a result of some thoughts long brewed in his mind.

-I don’t know, Fosco, I dont’t know…- Rudi went on- I think you are right….probably it is not enough anymore just to state that you are against…maybe it is necessary to take actions against...-

-Rudi listen…- All of a sudden Fosco’s face lit up and he bent his torso over to be closer to his friend. -Listen –he said again- Over the last few days we have seen a change in the society…. An improvement…. A degeneration .. for some people it is , for other people it isn’t… I don’t know, it depends…what I know anyway is that some people want to destroy what I think because they fear it and if they do, it is because in their worlds there is no space for everyone, but just for some people. What happened this morning at the newsroom headquarters make me scared for me, for you but the threat that is on us scares me the most because it doesn’t give me any certainty about the future.-

Rudi was listening quietly with his arms crossed on the table and his hands in a fist. He saw Totò coming out of the kitchen and he gave him a quick smile.

-Here is your food, enjoy it-. The innkeeper’s face, which was cheerful and friendly, dispersed Fosco’s thoughts for a moment and he sat up on his chair and acknowledged the hot food with a -Thank you, Totò’-

They ate in silence for a few minutes, they poured some wine into their glasses, then Fosco went on talking:

-Did you get what I mean?-

-I got it and I know that you are right…I can see that the situation is getting worse every day…now those who are against are afraid to end up like Matteotti so many people leave….-

-That’s what they want! Chasing us away, get us to be quiet! That skull we found this morning printed on the door of the newsroom means exactly this: be careful, you are being watched and your lives are not that worthy for us! They want our silence, the silence or the subservient assent of the press!-

-What else can we do other that keep on defending ourselves?-

-They won’t let us do that, you’ll see. It’s too easy for them. How long do you think we can still go on? Shortly they will force us to be quiet as they have already done with the others and then the battle will be lost forever-

Rudi looked at his friend with apprehension and after a short hesitation, he said:

-What are you going to do?-

Fosco went quiet. He ate very little. He pushed the plate away to the middle of the table, he drank a sip of wine, keeping his eyes down

-I don’t know, I don’t know exactly yet. I need to think it over…I need to think it over…- he whispered.