SALVE ROMA! A Felidae Novel - U.S. Edition

by Akif Pirincci

  After this extensive argy-bargy – those who are foreign to our species might probably call it that – the magic moment finally seemed to have come. Bloody red, the sun ascended about the Basilica of Maxentius and dipped my saint and me into his halo. And when I mounted her and grabbed the fur at her neck with my teeth to immobilize her, I believed to feel Eros’ presence, the very god among the many gods here, who really was useful. (3) The birds began to sing, and on our climax Sancta and I joined in with hymnic screams. That was what I call a first-class-vacation!

  Our loveplay went on for several hours, until we didn’t even have the strength to clean ourselves, totally exhausted, yet soaked with happiness. From afar we already saw the first tourist crowds enter the Forum. It was time to take a little walk and get to know each other on a more intellectual level, or let’s say time to finally talk to each other!

  »Can you maybe tell me now who taught you the language, which the whole world thinks of as being an invention of ad writers for drugs boxes, darling?« I wanted to know while our feet led us towards Palatine under the blazing sun. »Dominus meus me docuit, Pater Umberto.«

  In my mind I translated the words, which poured out of her silvery sparkling snout. Her master, a padre called Umberto had taught her Latin ...

  »... In his former life he used to be an engineer, until he plunged into a big crisis and turned towards religion. He joined a monastic order with a very bluenosed codex. But his reputation as a great engineer followed him into the dark monk’s cell and, luckily, beyond. Thus, one day the Holy Father himself ordered for him to come to the Vatican to update the security technology. Today he is in charge of the monitoring systems, especially for the St. Peter’s Basilica. And as he is so good, he was asked to apply his approved technology also here at the Forum. He is obsessed with our kind, and besides me he also keeps some black rascal on this site, who runs away pretty frequently though. At least, I don’t see him very often. After Umberto had bought me from a breeder, he only talked Latin to me ever since I was a kid. He may live in this world, but his heart beats for the old world. He thinks our times are totally rotten. Like infested by a special kind of Alzheimer’s, one after one would for their most primary and most important language, as well as the values of the Christian western civilization. For what it’s worth, he’s way over the top. Equidem me satis dixisse puto, Narra historiam tuam, Francis. Non hinc esse videris.«

  So now it was my turn to tell my story. Well, this one would sound rather crazy. For a beauty queen who spent her days with nothing else than comparing herself with stony beauties and turning up her nose at tourists in XXL-shorts, it may even sound a little silly. We had climbed the Palatine Hill meanwhile, a mystical-mythical world of ruins. The emperors of Rome had resided on the Palatine for ages. Rich Patricians, writers like Cicero, politicians and scholars used to live here, and emperors like Augustus and Domitian had built temples and city palaces on this hill – the word »palace« originates from Palatine by the way. Even the rudiments of these buildings were able to give a clear impression of the former glory. Walking between the terraces and flower aisles, lawn, little buildings, fountains and groves was even more pleasurable than a stroll over the Forum. From up here it was also possible to see the empire’s remains from the well-ordered aerial perspective. The best thing though was the unrestricted, breathtaking view of the Flavian amphitheater, also called Collosseum.

  I told Sancta about the circumstances of my journey to Rome, the friendly reception by Antonio, Giovanni and Samantha in the city and about the events that had followed in quick succession. Of course I came to talk about the rampant murders and the last victim, which I had been forced to see with my own eyes. I presented her my thoughts on that score and the resultant theories. Sancta seemed to be far from the picture I had created of her, namely that of a delicate flower blossoming in a fissure of a broken column, and – thank God! – turned out to be a realist. She had also heard about the murders, was even afraid to lose her ear and life at the hand of the killer and had decided to energetically support my investigation with any information she could possibly give.

  »Igitur investigator es, Francis, quaerens verum ultimum?« she said and narrowed her eyes to slits because of the scorching sun. We had rested on one of the terraces of the Thermae Severianae. The giant substructures, which once supported pillars and arches in the walls, some baths and corridors and even the heating system, were still in good condition. From here we could even see the Collosseum and the Circus Maximus. But still the most wonderful site of all was my ancient bride. In daylight, the blue color had totally disappeared from her fur. The silver tone in it had become a cosmic glowing though, which made her a saint once and for all. Her sexy odor was stuck in my nose like some happy childhood memory, it almost brought me to my knees. Lordy! I hadn’t felt like that since my blissful days of youth! The old fox had fallen in love! I had almost mocked myself if the use of animals in mockery didn’t get on my nerves so much.

  »Yeah, now and then the detective takes me over, Sancta«, I replied, after I had recovered a little from the daze caused by too much sunlight and hormonal frenzy. »But only chance brought it about that sometimes I have to descend to Hades. Or fate. But as of today, I want to be just one thing, namely the one who adores you till the end of days.«

  She smiled mischievously, as if she would think of my words as a kind but rhetorical compliment. But I knew from experience that to the ladies especially the most pathetic compliments are music to their ears.

  »To get back to the recent cruelty in my second job: I told you that on this creepy conference down in the catacombs the capeman talked about an upcoming miracle, about il miracolo. Does that ring a bell? I mean, have you ever heard rumors regarding a so-called miracle amongst our kind?«

  Sancta thought for quite a while, whereas her patina-green eyes totally disappeared between the slits of her eyelids, then she shook her head. I just wanted to ask the next question, when she suddenly looked up as if she just got an idea.

  »Well, come to think of it ... there actually is a miracle with a certain connection to us. But it is not about to come, it has existed for ages and it is quite alive. All Romans know it. And since the TV stations, which bless the people with pathetic impressions at Christmas and Easter, have broadcasted his pictures ad nauseam, everyone has been sick of it.«

  Instantly I changed from the passionate lover back to the passionate detective.

  »What, there actually is an il miracolo?«

  »Unfortunately! And that’s his name, too.«

  »Excuse me?«

  »Miracolo is the name of the Pope’s pet! And ever since these cute media reports this creature carved out a career as the Vatican’s secret mascot. That’s okay. But this guy, who unfortunately is one of our kind, has more air than the pope himself. He’s a Persian, who meanwhile has seen more springs than the Temple of Apollo. He surrounds himself with flunkeys who even support him in his megalomania. Anyway, from time to time he sends our kind some bluenosed messages, which outdo the pope’s encyclicals by far. At best we don’t get them and at worst we shake our heads.«

  »I got to meet him!« I yelled so loud as if I had spotted a fire.

  »Quare?« she replied and looked at me, dumbfounded.

  »Seriously? I’m looking for a miracle in Rome, Sancta, and Miracolo is the only miracle I can get a hold of.«

  »Iste non est miraculum, sed vir stultissimus!«

  »Okay, he may be a moron. But an unerring instinct tells me, that there may be much riding on this conversation. But how on earth can I arrange a meeting between him and me? He is a star, and I’m just a miserable tourist.«

  »Don’t worry, Francis.« Sancta smiled mildly like a mother to her small son, who is scared Santa won’t come because he hasn’t been quite good enough during the year. »A star needs his audience, and Miracolo doesn’t have a lot. He will meet you for sure. And I will let you know about the easiest way to him when you leave me for good.«

/>   She didn’t smile anymore now. Quite the opposite, sheer cloud fields browsed her face.

  »Are you that lonely, Sancta?«

  »Sometimes«, she said and struggled to keep her composure. But her whiskers vibrated, and her snout trembled persistently. She was about to burst out in tears. »This area suits our kind better than any other place, and yet sometimes I don’t hear a single meow for weeks, or even for months. It has nothing to offer for our brothers and sisters. Awestricken, the tourists don’t even dare to throw away a half-eaten bologna sandwich. Everything is nice to look at, but this beauty is due to those whose bones crumbled into dust ages ago. Life itself doesn’t live here anymore. But I’m alive, and that’s my tragedy.«

  My heart tensed up listening to her words. Though to me she had appeared to be a beauty queen, now I knew that actually she was a queen without a kingdom. How said she must feel, wandering about this whole splendor all day and never walking into a fellow at all? Without using the worn thin comparison to a golden cage, I sensed that even sparkling beauty and fabulous wealth couldn’t make up for everyday occurrences like tender rubbing against a friend’s cheeks or a little scrap about the best place in the sun. No, Sancta didn’t live in a golden cage nor was she kept hostage by some monster. She herself was the cage; that was the nub of the matter! The Forum, the old myths and legends, the Latin language, this whole freaking sunken world had rubbed off on her and had made her a ghost. She wanted to live, only she didn’t have the guts to go outside to the living.

  »Sancta, believe me, if I leave you for good, love itself will leave me for good. That would be my doomsday! After I have solved this tiresome issue and stopped the bloodshed amongst our kind, I will come back to you. This I swear! Though, you shouldn’t rely on vows and promises and wean yourself from waiting. If you really want to live, you got to leave the netherworld. Let me recommend this to you as your therapist. Out there countless dangers are waiting for you, at every turn evil is lurking, and disappointment is a dime a thousand. At the same time of all things you be compensated by these devils that are responsible for all those bad things. Why? Because there’s still blood running through their veins. You will face countless opportunities, and eventually true happiness. And you will realize: The Forum Romanum is beautiful, but life amongst the living is even more beautiful!«

  A smile returned to her silvery face. Still, it couldn’t hide a sparkling trickle of tears. Maybe it was sadness about the many lost years, in which she had dwelled on thoughts without ever daring to put them into operation.

  »So now you will say Vale! Francis?« she said.

  »No, there are so still many things I want to know about you.«

  »What? If I can cross a street without your help?«

  Now the smile also turned back to my face.

  »Yes, and what is it with the many confusing colors on those street lights?« I replied. »What I’m also deeply interested in is this glorious security technology that Umberto apparently installed here. Quite honestly, I see precious little of it. Unless your master nailed down every single column and every single stone single-handed.«

  »You’re not totally off base, Francis«, she said, jumped down the terrace rudiment and ran down the hill. I followed her, full of curiosity. Meanwhile it was noon, and down there whole battalions of tourists shoved themselves through the landscape of ruins. Even from afar, one could easily identify them by their clothes. Weird that humans think that in regard to clothes they even have to outdo circus clowns during their vacation.

  »Every single ancient stone has been numbered, cataloged and photographed a bunch of times. Umberto also did something else to them. He didn’t nail them down, but injected a very modern version of these things, microchips. The newest development of these chips is called smart tags, if I remember that correctly.«

  In a split second I got the ingenious security concept that Signore Umberto had come up with. Here the magic words are: data transmitting labels! Skeptics have another term for it though: prying chips. I had heard of it in a TV report, even though only fragmentarily as Gustav’s monster snoring had drowned out the announcer’s voice. The smart tags or RFID-, namely radio-frequency-identification-chips, represented the fulfillment of every observation fetishist’s dreams. So far people noticed the barcode of grocery store products no earlier than the minute they get scanned at the checkout counter. Shortly, they’ll have to hope that they themselves don’t get noticed by its multifunctional successor. Namely, a current-independent radio chip – barely visible to the naked eye – that is attached directly to the product and is thought to displace the barcode at retail. By means of a new technology the tiny chips transports the data to remote sensors by radio. But also in other respects this transponder sets new standards: It also qualifies for the activation of CCTV and allows the tracking of customers, who come in contact with the product. The cashier can go home – an automatic register gathers all goods by radio and collects the customers’ money. By use of a hidden so-called transponder it can be registered when a thief stuffs something into his pocket and leaves the store as well as in which street or which house entrance he disappears after that.

  And at this point our smart Umberto got into the game. He had realized the opportunities, which this chip offered to security systems, a little earlier and had used it to prepare every single ancient thing at the Forum. So stealing only a single stone from this site, for a thief amounted to voluntarily turning himself in. Security guys were able to track his every single footstep on a computer screen and, thus, locate him.

  »Furthermore, there are several cameras hidden around here, which are connected to a central processor«, Sancta kept talking, after she had superfluously tried to quite ponderously explain the role of smart tags to me. Out of courtesy, I didn’t want to interrupt her of course. We had reached the Forum by now, but followed outlying trails, so that the flow of tourists didn’t get in our way. If I hadn’t lost track in this rubble jungle, we must be on our way to the Arch of Titus again.

  »Every newly arriving face gets scanned and matched with the biometrically recorded mugshots of previously convicted crooks. But even the biometric data of innocent people won’t be deleted as they are hypothetic first offenders.«

  »Fortunately, we don’t fall in any of these categories. For animal shapes the program is probably blind«, I replied with a cheeky attitude.

  »Not at all«, Sancta said unaffectedly, as if it was the most casual thing in the world. I just wanted to shrivel up from embarrassment, or at least blush to a bordeaux-violet, if that would be possible for our kind. As at the thought that we had secretly been filmed at our passionate fling at dawn made me tense up so much that I almost turned into one of the statues we kept passing. Sancta though didn’t seem to mind that she was watched at every turn. Why would she, having grown up like this?

  Close to the Arch of Titus my lover suddenly sidestepped into an area that was covered with wild bushes. We crawled through dense undergrowth, stopped and squeezed us through sprawling roots like flounders, and finally we battled liana-like plant curtains, which stood comparison to a real jungle. Suddenly our paws unexpectedly stood on glass. It was bulletproof glass, about 2 inches thick, rectangular and so broad that one could easily have built a house on it.

  My eyes became aware of a high-tech-center that was hidden in the ground. The faces of the newly arrived visitors appeared on countless monitors on the wall. The moving pictures froze in a matter of seconds, and a program calculated the measures of specific facial features and analyzed color of skin and hair on the basis of bright point of lights and flashing lines. After that the faces changed into abstractions consisting of rough structures and blinking dots and disappeared in a window in the upper part of the monitor. On other monitors numerical series scrolled through. On the next one though a special program, which recognized solid geometric patterns, compared the current look and the position of the single ruin elements with the old data from archival footage without a si
ngle break. This total electronic monitoring proceeded almost automatically, as there was only a guard in a blue uniform sitting at the monitoring desk with the many controllers and keys, who now and then brought himself to get a call and used to the rest of the time to yawn of boredom.

  »Now you know the secret why the Roman empire will stay at its ancestral place for ever and always, Francis«, Sancta said, and her face couldn’t hide the pride in her master and his thaumaturgic feats.

  »This is all very impressive indeed, Sancta«, I replied. »Compared with your Umberto, George Orwell was a fanciless mediocrity. Do you maybe know in which technical field he did research before he turned towards religion?«

  »I believe he thought of some funny things.«

  »Funny things?«

  »He owns a sparse cabin underneath the broken bridge next to the Ponte Rotto. But his real home is a Volkswagen transporter that probably dates back to the Gallic War. Among other things, he keeps the few mementos of his former life in there. I once went there and found yellowed magazines and sheets with scientific notes under the junk that is scattered all of the place.«

  »So?«

  »Well, like I already said, at that time he used to work at silly things. For example, he considered the question of whether the coating of water-repellent plant leaves can be synthesized and how the result can be converted to modern car paint. Stuff like that.«

  In a row of columns at the threshold to the Piazza del Colosseo it eventually was time to say farewell. After leaving the hidden glass bunker Sancta had guided me here unerringly. The elliptic square sort of built the end of the Forum Romanum. The Colosseum towered in its center. My lover couldn’t hide that she was afraid to leave her ghost land and just set just a single paw outside its borders. Although the cobblestoned square was a care-free zone, which served as collecting point for tourists and as an elegant promenade for walkers, nervousness make itself at home in her silver face. Her hypnotizing smell still reached my nostrils like a spell, which irreversibly had been cast over me. And the sight of her smooth, slim body with the fur, which glistened in the midday sun, the extraordinary long tail and the big paws for a few minutes caused me to consider to just stay here instead of hunting some monsters.