Saturday, 16 December 2017
The bullied takes on Goliath in the true horror stories in modern Paris part 53
Under the early morning sun, if felt like the fatal nightmare did not really happen. But the machines in the restaurant were still there plugged on and the air in my apartment seemed heavy and dark. I marched in and opened the windows. It may at least release the electromagnet. I quickly gathered things I would need to stay elsewhere and then contacted my lawyer. My mobile was not working so I needed to rely on my fixed phone. In Paris there is hardly a public phone around.
Following the advice of my lawyer I made a booking at a hospital and arranged an electrician to check my apartment. The police may be witness to excess noise but they would have no device to measure electricity flood. Mr. Pride, Mme. Empathy and Mr. Justice would claim there may have been the failure of the electric system in my apartment. I may have been inside my contaminated apartment for just 30 minutes, but already I started to feel the effect of the electric contamination. By the time I reached the hospital my palpation had jumped to 98 per minute. The hospital recorded high fever too. I was absolutely sick that they did blood test on me. They found nothing. And yet after 4 hours all the symptoms subsided all of sudden. I was convinced that my room was contaminated, but I had to return for my computer in order to book a room.
I knew the stairs and the corridor was safe so I brought my chair out and started searching for a room on my laptop. One neighbor, a Parisian man passed by. I explained and apologized for using the public space. He shrugged his shoulder and told me ‘Bon courage’ meaning good luck. However, another neighbors reacted differently. A couple was having a party and guests were coming soon. They did not want a weirdo sitting in the corridor. They knew of the contaminated state of my room, but the young man shouted ‘Go back!’ in English with a heavy accent. He then tried to seize my chair. Too afraid of what he might do with it I quickly agreed to their demand. I returned to the contaminated room with tears on my cheek. The couple saw it as they went upstairs but they still put on party music. I grabbed my things and left the building. It is after all their country, which I must respect.
However, I had not yet found a room and it was quickly getting dark. I felt so miserable that my imagination once again took me to the butcher near Notre Dame Cathedral who sold the human flesh of medieval tourists…and the bystanders who let him continue with his diabolical business. How he was stopped I do not know, but a police station was built on the cursed place. Then it occurred to me to go to the Police. I asked for the Major who had been compassionate. I wished to be allowed to sit inside the police station for the night. The move which may have turned things around in hindsight.
To be continued.