The morning was cold and foggy, but when Berto opened his eyes he wasted no time formulating that stupid consideration. He lunged for the nightstand and grabbed his phone.

  Friday morning, rain and fog banks are expected.

  Berto opened the news app and scrolled to the local ones. No demonstration actions against Sasi, no corpses found along the bank of the Sangro river. Only schools that were falling apart and stupid exhibitions of little-known local artists. He breathed a sigh of relief.

  In the instant following his sigh, Berto realized that it was cold. He got under the duvet and stayed there for a good twenty minutes doomscrolling on social media. There was a specific thing he wanted to do, but, afraid of interrupting that moment of bliss, he kept scrolling through Instagram reels. In his reels, there were a lot of dogs doing stupid things. God, how he loved those dogs. How he loved his reels. Excellent humor.

  Enough of that bullshit.

  Berto clicked on the search bar. He looked for Gianna. Maybe she was back in town, even if he hadn't seen her for a long time. Perhaps he could DM her something casual and ask her out. After all, she had told him she was stupid for leaving him because he was cute. Even if the Gianna who had told him came from another dimension tormented by war and dictatorship… – lives in Rome, so it was written on her Instagram page. Then there were a whole series of photos that were very indicative of how she was doing. One at her graduation, one in front of the Eiffel Tower, one where she was making out with a guy, and so on.

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  Now that he thought about it, a couple of years earlier he had already checked Gianna's profile and the situation was already more or less the same. Stupid to delude himself that anything had changed. He was the only one stuck in that little village of old people and teenagers, and the rest of the world went on. No prospects and no future. That was the atonement of ARKAZEL:SLOTH ver. 173.00475.5.017, right?

  Speaking of perspective and the future, he had a long day of deliveries ahead of him. Then, the weekend would begin, and he would relax with friends at the Fraschetta bar.

  Berto steeled himself, got out of bed, and went to the bathroom. He turned on the tap. The tap let out a long sigh, but not even a drop of water came out. That was a classic Sasi move: unplanned water supply interruption. Damn, there was snow in the mountains! How could there be no water? The springs should have been full by now!

  Berto peered at his reflection in the mirror for a moment.

  System Nodes, natural enemies of Soul Fragments like him. Was the president of Sasi a System Node? Most likely yes. And the mayors, the road workers, and the managers of the local health company must have been System Nodes as well.

  Berto wondered what was worse. Fearing that hell awaits us after death or having the awareness of already living there.