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.
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