Circe had made the news for ruining the political career of a congressman who had fallen in love with her. Someone had filmed the congressman in a hotel room, completely naked, his ankles and wrists tied to the side of the bed. Circe was accused of kidnapping, harassment, and drug dealing. There was a trial, where the verdict finally spoke of ʺA sex games between consenting adultsʺ. The heads of the prosecution fell and Circe was acquitted in full. The result was one less congressman and one more TV personality.
Now, the four jurors, the souls scratched by human sins, were ready to judge the contestants in the race. The first artist was called Fernando Ramirez. He was a young
Mexican who entered the United States illegally before the Trump Administration allocated $2 billion to raise the walls along the border.
Fernando, once past the curtain, was caught robbing a gas station in a remote Texas desert town. ʺI had to eatʺ, he told the public.
Arrested and kicked out by the feds, penniless, he embarked on an adventurous journey that took him overseas. Now, for some years, he had been living in Rovigo, a guest of second generation uncles and cousins.
Fernando, with his olive skin and black, fiery eyes, after touching everyone with his story, began to sing. He had a rough and engaging voice, and the audience appreciated the performance by peeling their hands with a remote-controlled applause from the leader.
Three out of four judges found the performance convincing.
Sebastian Monroe voted against, explaining that in his opinion the boy was barely an amateur, a smartass who wanted to pity them with his sob story. The public booed outraged at that statement, and Sebastian responded with the middle finger. The web went wild. There was a hailstorm of insults on the socials, controversy raged and the share went up half a point.
Other competitors followed. Some were amazingly good, others were talentless, but eccentric enough to capture the public's attention. The authors of the program gave them a strategic location to raise the audience's attention.
They spent a few commercials inviting viewers to buy products that were voluptuous, but so seductive and captivating that they were indispensable.
After a flurry of dream cars, fine perfumes and designer clothes, the live broadcast could begin again.
The share was around eight per cent when Daisy Magnoli took the stage.
Her young, perfect, restless face, smiling, shrewd eyes, and short pastel-colour dress immediately attracted the jury's attention. ʺHere we are another creature who could lose his innocence behind the glittering world of show business, the judges thought, more or less, they knew they were looking at a potential character.
"Hey, everybody! Aren't you going to say anything? Isn't this little girl a beauty?" Sebastian Monroe exclaimed, addressing the audience who responded to his solicitation with a round of applause.
"Jenny, what do you think of this flower that suddenly blossomed on stage?" Sebastian insisted, repeating the lines on the monitor.
"A truly splendid lily, Sebastian. But I don't like your tone; it sounds like the hum of a bee hunting for pollen, if you know what I mean. And it's underage” Jenny remarked, scrolling through the lines written on the hunchback by the authors.
"Oh, come on, Jenny, you know you're the flower of my dreams” Sebastian replied with a resolution.
Circe didn't read any of the lines, preferring to go on the arm.
"Come on, dear Daisy. Why don't you tell us something about yourself?"
"Hello, everyone” smiled Daisy, who, in spite of her age and with some wonder, was not at all uncomfortable. Being the centre of attention always gave her a thrill of pleasure.
"My name is Daisy. Daisy Magnoli. I come from Castelmuso, a village of 15,000 inhabitants, not far from the Adriatic Sea..."
Daisy continued by reciting some other banality about her high school life, but without the liveliness demanded by the authors.
"Is that all?" Sebastian exclaimed, pretending to be disappointed. "I hope that shyness hides a great talent,
otherwise..." Sebastian spread his arms, as if to say: ʺWhat did you come to do? To disappoint all these people? ʺ
Daisy knew that the program's set list included a few mandatory steps: the jury would start with compliments, so to boost the share they would provoke her into trouble. All she had to do was stand up to the jurors' assaults.
It was all planned.
Now all she had to do was sing I’m Rose and she would become a celebrity.
6
Guido felt a chill running down his shoulder blades. Daisy was about to perform in front of millions of Italians.
"That asshole Sebastian! Did you see how the hell he treated her? Who does he think he is?" Manuel Pianesi was so angry that he spilled the beer on the sofa cushions, making Guido swear.
Guido Gobbi had already regretted hosting his two friends at his home, an apartment on the outskirts of town in the populous San Lorenzo district. Five thousand quiet souls, divided between the buildings with high facades that followed the profile of the hill.
On the one hand Manuel screamed, making him miss the jurors' jokes, on the other, Leo Fratesi replied to the comments, with the vice of emphasizing several times the concept already expressed.
"Please, will you stop messing around?" Guido asked as he pressed the remote control button to turn up the volume.
A week had passed since Daisy and Guido had quarrelled. She thought Guido was a peeping Tom and wanted to report him to the principal. It seemed like the sad ending to a story that had never been told. Then, that phrase appeared on the computer.
Adriano has to stop looking for me. Or he'll come to a bad end.
After an exhausting explanation where Guido had tried to convince her that he had nothing to do with it, they finally made peace, even though the longed-for appointment had been postponed.
Daisy, in fact, had preferred to investigate who had sent the message, with Manuel's help. The dreadlocks high school boyfriend was a good geek, one of those who could trace the source code. Manuel had tried to find out who the author
was, but with every attempt, the computer inexplicably froze.
The seriousness of the attack ruled out the possibility that it was a prank on Daisy.
Guido said that Adriano probably did something he shouldn't have. Perhaps a virtual meeting gone wrong. Or, he stepped on the wrong people's toes, or something, and they were threatening him. Daisy had never seriously considered the possibility that they were really angry with her brother. She used to feel that she was the centre of attention, which led her to think that the message was addressed to her. It is likely that her disabled brother had really attracted someone's hatred, and now she wanted to find out why.
"So, Daisy, what do you want us to hear?" Sebastian Monroe asked, drinking a sip of scotch that made his lips slurp with pleasure.
"Well, I'd like to sing a song. A new song” she replied, grabbing the microphone stand, which she lifted to suit her height.
"Did you hear that?" exclaimed the juror, turning to the audience.
"We're dealing with a singer-songwriter” added Circe, puzzled, who searched the stands for someone who shared her scepticism. There were some whispers of approval.
"I didn't actually write it."
"Could you be a more verbose thread, or shall we move on to monosyllables?"
There was a giggle from the audience.
"It's a song written by Adriano Magnoli. My brother. The song is I’m Rose.
In Castelmuso, Adriano watched the program with his arms folded, his shoulder resting on the door jamb, and there was a lot of excitement around him.
"For God's sake, Adry, they're talking about you here!" Franz shouted out the foam from the beer bottle.
"Really, Adriano. It's great” Uncle Ambrogio remarked, raising his glass to another toast.
The compliments of the people gathered in the living room of the villa were sincere, insistent, and a bit annoying. In Adriano's ears they sounded a bit l
ike ʺNothing bad for a mental patient.ʺ
He couldn't blame them. After all, it was the truth.
"Now a little silence, please" Sebastian said, raising his hands to silence the audience, while the camera's ruthless eye was placed on Circe's finger on the stage.
"Daisy Magnoli. Your time has come!"
Daisy closed her eyes, seeking maximum inspiration.
The sweet sound of a piano rose up. Just a few notes chasing each other. The music, light and evocative, seemed to lead into a garden of fragrant roses. A melody that recalled soft colors, delicate flights of butterflies and clear skies full of harmony.
Adriano's music began as a calm journey into the soul.
Daisy, the feeling of riding a rainbow of emotions, began to sing.
My heart pierced by blinding suns
My hard crystal tears
It's beauty
The joy of love
But a shadow is hidden in the folds of my soul...
The words, whispered like a loud chant, did not provoke any reaction from the audience.
As expected, if the artist showed little, if any, talent during the performance, shouts and whistles were heard, but when the skill was undeniable, applause and shouts were heard. Nothing happened to Daisy. No one said a word. Everything was still, suspended in a vacuum.
Suddenly the sigh of the piano became a thunder rumble. A powerful, dark bass gave off a powerful energy. Melody and rhythm exploded into a gothic rock piece. Drums and guitar fused, in the background, a chorus of deep voices. It was an ancient Gregorian chant translated from Latin, the voices modulated on prophetic tones. A warning that spoke of beauty, love and damnation.
Love is the mirror of the dark.
The dark will be my husband.
The cloak of the black reaper will fall on my face, heavy as a shroud.
Beauty and damnation...
Then the choir silenced. A thick, grey smoke came down on stage.
Daisy's voice rose clear and vibrant.
Sin crept into the mists of my innocence.
The dark angel is joy and innocence.
The dark angel is joy and perversion.
I am the rose.
He is damnation...
The dance steps touched the stage with light and agile touches, a roll rose as the succession of threatening thunder, the choir to create an atmosphere of warning and omen.
At the end of the song the guitars interpreted an acrobatic solo, a perfect counterpoint to celebrate the dying sound of the drums.
Then, suddenly, the music dissolved.
The piece was finished.
Daisy stood motionless, her face turned to the sky, sweat running down her temples, strands of hair clinging to her reddened cheeks, her knee pointed to the ground and her arm outstretched to the sky in a beautiful, epic pose.
Daisy smiled at the jury, holding her anxieties, her heart beating fast in the center of her chest.
It was time for the verdict.
All around, a heavy, unfathomable silence.
Daisy stared at Sebastian Monroe. She knew the verdict would pass through his eyes. The New Zealander, almost always arrogant and clear-headed in his judgements, had an indecisive look, and all of his poise suggested an insecurity that no one recognized. The other judges were also nervous and uncertain.
Daisy, in anticipation of the response, felt that she could hear thudding from under the stage.
She heard a technician swearing heavily behind the scenes. The smoke grenades were not supposed to go off. Daisy, in fact, had been surprised. During rehearsals no one had mentioned that she had to dance in an annoying cold fog.
"I'm Rose" Sebastian finally said, "It's, like, you know... what I heard was something crazy."
"Immense is the word” echoed Circe, caged in a shiny black latex costume, the sweat coming down from under her wig.
The jury's verdict preceded the verdict of the audience, who rose and applauded. An unusual tribute, where everyone's enthusiasm was measured, but full and complete, as if the exhibition deserved admiration and respect as if it were a piece of work.
As people applauded, the thunder under the stage became darker and deeper.
Daisy took a bow. That was the most important moment of her life.
She was restless, smiling and thanking.
The thudding increased. ʺMa no one hears them? ʺ she thought, as the stage vibrated beneath her feet, the mike stick was jumping in front of her lips. He blamed the tension, and thought of his brother. Adriano had fallen ill due to severe stress. She was also under a lot of pressure now. Her imagination led her to believe that someone, or something, was buried somewhere. A presence trapped in a dark and
undefined place trying to free itself. Maybe she was sick, too?
She felt a painful cramp in her stomach and was afraid of vomiting. Despite everything, she struggled to smile.
"Daisy, I have no words. I'm simply astounded” Sebastian exclaimed, shaking his head, as if to shake off the emotions that I’m Rose has brought.
Isabella Larini agreed as she brushed her arm to caress the goose skin, her eyes flashing with admiration.
"Gentlemen, personally I am still in shock. We have witnessed the birth of a star. A star that will long shine in the firmament of the Next Generation” was Circe's comment.
"Now we want to know everything, just everything about you" Sebastian asked, smoothing his hard, stinging beard.
Daisy felt the blows stop. The mike player was no longer jumping and the stage stopped vibrating. She was convinced that she had only imagined them. She passed the back of her hand over her sweaty brow, her eyes spinning in the stands. In her dreams, her audience was always invisible, someone who applauded her but only she could see. Now the audience was real. There he was, in the flesh, standing before her, peeling his hands.
"I'm glad you liked the piece" she could say, almost moved.
Daisy's house had gone up in flames. Amelia, Franz's wealthy wife, laughed with a smiling face. Aunt Annetta took two tears of emotion from the back of her hand. The landline and cell phones were ringing off the hook. Each ring was a friend, a neighbour, an acquaintance who called to congratulate him. Franz and Uncle Ambrogio, half drunk, urged a toast by shaking beer mugs overflowing with foam in their hands.
At that moment in Castelmuso everyone could boast that they were fellow citizens of a celebrity.
Adriano was watching Daisy on the stage of Next Generation. He knew her like no other. She was tense and nervous, and the smile was not sincere.
The young man, just like Daisy, was overwhelmed with anxiety. "Adriano, you're great” his uncle told him, hugging him with an abrupt gesture and throwing his weight around to support himself.
"I said. I have always said it. I don't have two nephews. I have two phenomena."
Adriano departed from his relative to free himself from that cumbersome arm. He left the room and slipped into the hallway. He went up the stairs, cursed every step, cursed his migraine that had suddenly burst and cursed the drugs that were slowing him down.
He went into his room. He opened the desk drawer to take a painkiller. In his head, everything began to take on faded and confused forms.
He went through the drawer with his hand without remembering what he was looking for. He began wandering around the room in a disoriented and distraught air, before collapsing to the floor with his head in his hands. At that moment the hallucinations returned to him.
Adriano convinced himself that his head was a vase full of earth, where dense tangles of roots, impossible to eradicate, were taking root.
He took from the bookshop an old volume with a heavy and worn-out cover. His trembling hands turned the pages of the Bible with a frustrating and resigned slowness.
He stopped on a particularly crumpled page, aware that it would be of no use to read, or even to pray, as if at that moment religion had become distant and contrary to the truth.
Schizophrenia. It is called schizophreni
a. My mind is sick. It's just that. It's the only thing I can think of that is repeating the Bible at the foot of my bed, the pages open on the floor like the wings of a dead bird.
No. It's not schizophrenia, Adriano. He's about to come on stage.
"Very well, Daisy Magnoli” Sebastian said. "I don't know if you realise, but your voice is amazing, you dance like a pro, and if I'm not mistaken you're only 16, right?"
"That's right. At least for the part about my age. Otherwise I trust your judgment."
Daisy's response was underlined by applause from the audience who seemed to like not only her artistic talent, but also her verve.
"Now tell us, darling” exclaimed Circe. "The piece was written by your brother, wasn't it? What did you say his name was?"
"Adriano. Adriano Magnoli."
"Would you like to talk a little about him? Such a good author deserves to be here, next to you."
"Well, my brother can't come. Because he, as it were, he... he... he... is..."
"He what? You look a little embarrassed” Sebastian frowned. You don't want to talk about Adriano, do you?"
ʺHere is the moment of perfidyʺ Daisy thought. ʺCome, now I'm going to get blackmailed.ʺ
Daisy knew that judges could become particularly hateful, even cruel, in the name of ratings.
But she had no intention of falling into that trap, and she tried to concentrate to keep up with their assaults.
"So, where is your brother? You should let us meet him, love..."
Isabella Larini's mellifluous voice officially started the provocations.
"Maybe you didn't want him here because you're jealous of him?"
"Adrianoooo! Where are you? Adrianinooooooo!" Circe suddenly shouted, putting his hand over his forehead to look away, provoking the spectators to laugh.
Sandra had been backstage the whole time. I’m Rose's performance had been perfect. She was proud of Daisy. She had rejoiced and cried with emotion.
The Dawn of Sin Page 6