The murderer of rue Lantiez...
Page 1 - A day of work...
1 - Go to work... Serge Lecourt goes to work by metro or by car.
2 - Cramped... Serge feels uncomfortable in his costume. It's too tight at the shoulders, he should have taken longer when he picked it. It's always like that, Serge runs after time. Serge works in a company specializing in production of watches, this may explain its permanent stress. He calculated that by starting to write when the train departs he will have just enough time to finish writing his report. He's sitting across from someone who must have the same goals as him and there is just enough room for the two computers portable. It's time to write, but two neighbors have embarked on a bitter discussion about the merits of their favorite soccer players and he can't seem to concentrate.
He loosens his tie. Without results. He still has that feeling of suffocation. A lump in his throat is preventing him from breathing. He managed to concentrate and write three sentences, but a neighbor's cell phone rang and he was forced to hear him smirking "my heart", "my doe" and "my darling". Here is one that the couple has yet to see the wear of time.
3 - Parking... He needs a parking space just a few steps from his business. Serge gets back in his car after his purchases and he has never considered walking to the next store. The whole organization of the city has been designed to meet its needs. In his magnificent car a housing is provided to receive his cup and he perfectly masters a coordination that allows him to drive while drinking his coffee. He still has all kinds of accessories that allow him to listen to music. music or phone. He receives the sachets that contain his meals without moving from his seat, a diet that has caused an increase in weight which makes his non-motorized movements more difficult. He is quickly out of breath if he has to walk. When he returns home it is to collapse in an armchair and follow on his television the last adventures of a war intended to share the resource which will allow him to fill the tank of his vehicle.
4 - ChronoEmpire... Walking the few meters that separate him from Grunstein's office, Serge appreciates the beauty of a place that has nothing in common with the den where he continues his miserable existence.
- Hello Mr. Director.
This is the time-honored formula by which he marks his position as a vassal. His Majesty does him the great honor of noticing his presence. He gestures to the seat on which Serge rests the end of his buttocks.
- Sit down Lecourt!
They didn't keep the pigs together, the Boss doesn't send him to tell. Serge hands him his report. Albert picked it up with his fingertips like it was something dirty. He reads a few passages with grunts, then he grows back with a sort of roar.
- You realize ! No, but you realize! Sometimes I wonder where your head is Lecourt! What do you want me to do with such numbers! You are a Lecourt artist! I would even say you have a great future as illusionist, Lecourt!
From the moment he stepped into this place where his boss rules his world, Serge knew that his humble ant destiny was going to face the brazen law of power. He already knew a dire fate was drawn. His defeat was registered, his humiliation, the negation of his ego, his prostration before the considerable person of his Boss was the only way out. How could it have been otherwise? Serge bowed down, he humbled himself, he denied himself in front of this assertion of power. So goes the world, this monstrous mechanism governed by an insurmountable stupidity. Albert Grunstein notes a few details that allow him to measure the effectiveness of his intervention. Serge Lecourt accuses the blow. The tilt of his head marks how much weight he now has to carry on his shoulders. After this session it appears that it won't be able to be of much use. Albert doesn't need that kind of loser. He's made up his mind: next time I'll fire him.
Albert still has to sign some documents. In the evening his driver will drop him off at the hotel and tomorrow he is due to meet with subcontractors in Singapore.
5 - Bird names... Serge comes out of the boss's office. The vase is absorbed in the contemplation of its screen. He called him an illusionist. He knows how to find the words that hurt. He has this very special gift of turning his interlocutor into a mop. Serge is this doormat on which he wipes his feet. He is good at expressing contempt. In these painful circumstances Serge knows how to recharge his batteries. He makes a detour to Legrand's office and sprinkles it with lots of bird names. That's all at gratuitous and inappropriate, but he is relieved. At the same time he is aware of being an asshole like there are millions of.
Sadly, Serge was reckless. Legrand is the cousin of the sister of the boss's girlfriend. Not only will Serge not be increased, but he risks serious trouble. And then he finds the familiar surroundings of his office. If there is at least one thing that like ChronoEmpire, it's the decor of his office. As he works in the watchmaking industry, quite logically he has furnished his shelves with a few alarm clocks. Now Serge has a considerable number of quotes to establish and he has no courage to put himself at work. This interview with the Boss drained him entirely of his energy.
6 - TV night... Last night was a real ordeal. Usually Linda didn't show solidarity. She was following her usual soap opera and she didn't take her eyes off the screen for a moment. Barricaded in his room, Serge had managed to move forward a bit in writing the quote. Producing this row of perfectly fancy numbers had given him a headache.
7 - Scorching evening... Quotes, its entire existence comes down to this activity. Nothing exciting. And then with Linda it doesn't work at all. He remembers the evening the night before. It is hardly surprising that he feels very tired. With all the alcohol absorbed he was in a strange state. He wasn't the only one and it was starting to escalate seriously. Since the time he has known Serge knows how it ends in these evenings. Once again it did not fail, Linda had all the bitch in heat. The men present who had been quiet until then were starting to let go. Serge knows what his favorite fantasy is: his big thing is sleeping with several men. She had the nerve to tell him about it and he finds it rather disgusting.
Serge understood that she had reached a point where she no longer had any limits. There were three of them sprawling on the same bench. Linda was in the arms of a guy kissing her and there was another guy stroking her legs. Serge had remained leaning on the bar with Eric and a few others and he had sensed that the atmosphere was changing. They all had a few drinks too many and they were pretty excited. Eric was looking at him strangely.
- Are you having a good evening?
He must have said something like that. He was really having trouble articulating. One of his buddies had approached with a funny thing in his eyes. Serge had already seen this guy at parties and he found him rather repulsive. He had decided that this was enough like that. He had told Eric he had to go home. He had turned his back on them and he had planted them all there.
Now Serge contemplates his clocks neatly arranged on their shelves. They are the expression of what he feels, the vanity of fleeing time. With Linda he always refused the conventions. He asserted a freedom that has now reached its limits. He is aware that he is going through a painful episode in his life because loneliness is the only prospect open to him today.
8 - Fold... Serge goes home.
Page 2 - Floors...
1 - Five Floors...
2 - Jeanne Marge... Jeanne lives on the fifth floor, high enough to have an overhanging view of the neighboring rooftops. It is an ideal place with a view of the sky, a place to escape while contemplating the clouds. She has made it a comfortable place where she can receive some friends. The cramped nature of her room operates a sorting, the bodies that slip between her sheets must be slim enough, because her books are her universe, they are piled up everywhere.
She stored them under her bed and on her wardrobes, or stacked in the corners of the living room. There are those that have been given to her or that she has bought, books that have proved their worth, the result of the work of established writers and then there is those that are still in manuscript form. There are pages the reading of which is sometimes a kind of punishment. There are projects that are not really completed that she just goes through. She favors the time she devotes to writing that reveal those who may be bestowed with a title that cannot be usurped, the author's title reserved exclusively for those who have received widely shared recognition.
She has a bird's appetite. She abandoned food stores for bookstores. She cooks well but above all quickly, the time she devotes to reading is too precious for her to dwell on secondary activities. And then she follows the teacher's advice, she does not work too much. In fact, she doesn't work, at least that's how she goes about her daily life since she is paid to read.
Jeanne knows little about her neighbors, apart from Professor Jacques Valère. She shares with him a passion for words and a great indifference to material goods. With him she escapes, they need friends, above all friends, those with whom discussions never end. Together they go to the extreme limits of fatigue as if there was an ultimate truth, when nothing, no action is unreasonable, when anything is possible.
Jeanne needs to feel a momentum, a passion that wins her. Daily life forces her to come back to put her feet on the ground, to fulfill the professional obligations that make her live. Work has become a necessary interlude, a period she botches so as not to encumber it. Boredom is her only worry, she leads a relentless, fierce fight. Late at night, she stages her anguish: what's the point of living? She reaches this stage of detachment where she no longer knows the border between play and reality.
It is only when the sun is at its highest that it finally emerges. She is loved. They have their ecstasies. They come at the end of all the nights she stages. It is her own that he escapes sometimes and it is this little power that she love. Sometimes it is still a bit borderline. She would like him to grasp a little better these nuances which make the man of the theater, the poet. It has its dark sides. He is a shy person, a needy person. In fact, it's mostly a bed relationship. If it wasn't not there to bring their story to life, they would sink into extreme platitude and banality. She loves when it lives, she loves when it moves. She loves this freedom but she isn't sure she likes the assent he gives her. To want to avoid everything balance of power, it is reduced, it withers. She would like to feel more resistance. She is a full-fledged woman of her century. She loves power, as much to endure it as to exercise it. She is not a quiet person. Parties chamomile is not really his style. So it is she who animates. Music, culinary achievements, they begin to live from the first aperitif. And then there is this other game, that of her desire, constant, habitual, which she has to say Yes today. Tomorrow? Perhaps ...
3 - Carole Albert... Carole spits into my rag before gently rubbing the small bronze sculpture and she has the impression that the balancing act in a thong is winking at her.
- You have sore feet too. Yet it is not you who does the smart cleaning!
He deserves a little treat from time to time, poor fellow. Through the cloth my hand guesses the shape of this miniature body.
- Do you like my big rascal?
The big rascal winks at him. This one at least is not ready to go away with his arms pinned in the cross. It's time to invoice. It’s not her favorite job, but she doesn't give gifts because neither are they. For restore her villa she has to pay all those craftsmen who steal her. She would have to go there to supervise the work, but she does not have the time or the skills to do so. They understand who they are dealing with and they are taking advantage of it. She works for a corrupt and incompetent system. She does not advocate for big issues. Its small files are of no great interest and judges cannot shy away from a certain dose of contempt. Finally it suits everyone and she has often the feeling that she might as well sleep in court rather than listen to the lies of the other party.
Carole, however, cannot let it be said that she does not take care of her clients. On the contrary, she has the greatest attention for them. As most of the cases relate to divorces, she must constantly show them that if they want to obtain more, they must reveal the other's secrets. Do they think they're coming to play in a kindergarten? If they want to prevent their spouse from obtaining custody of the children, they must have his infidelity declared by a bailiff. She has a strong point of view on married life. When in the space of a few months she manages to get a spouse to lose custody of her children, her home and her job to find herself on the street, it is because there was a flaw in the couple that deserved to be effectively probed.
Carole has to deal with Linda's case.
- The husband refuses to do the dishes. He devotes more time to his friends than to his wife. He never participates in the care of the household. He spends all his leisure time sprawling in an armchair from where he watches football games while drinking beer. Yes I stick to this file, you are not ready to change car my dear! Tell me he had a mistress?
- How much?
- Really ? Per day ! What health!
- No, it's not okay, the court won't believe it. And then your means of proof are still a little light. Beach photos! What do you want me to gain with beach photos?
Carole knows what she's going to do with this beach photo. The husband had a mistress ...
Despite everything, a disappearance does not do very well in the picture. Carole has costs. She must first deal with the flow of current affairs, her time is invaded by small files. His customers invade him with their phone calls to find out if there is anything new. Now it's systematic Carole warns: any time spent on a file is billed. This had the gift of calming some of them. And then from time to time he happens to deal with a big file. This is where she can congratulate herself the rigor of its management. When she finds the people of her world, it is useful to know which are those who are up to date with their Rotary dues among these notables, these leaders or these politicians and those who are classified in golf with an honorable handicap.
- We must lead a decisive attack. I started writing.
Carole Albert settles down in her armchair to read her prose:
- When he does get home, he's always accompanied by a bunch of drunks and girls. The marital home becomes the scene of orgy scenes. Neighbors complained about the din because the sound of banging and screaming came from the apartment. Howls go through the walls. Bottles are smashed against the walls. We hear the cries of women who are forced. In the morning the building bears the traces of these orgy scenes. All kinds of filthy things, urine, feces and blood are spilled in the hallways.
The last part of the file is devoted to the income of Serge Lecourt. It turns out that he is a billionaire. As Carole makes the hypothesis of an overvaluation, Madame Lecourt answers her that she is convinced that there is only part of his income and that he conceals most of it. It is stated in the plaintive tone of which she has a good command.
- There's also this photo.
- Didn't you tell me he beat you?
- Yes yes, he beat me!
- All right, but I need a medical certificate. We are fortunate to have a competent doctor. So see Antoine.
- There is also this photo.
Linda extracts a photo from one of her files which she hands to Carole.
- We cannot use this document.
The Princess sets in motion a verification procedure. She notices that there are no bugs in her programs and she raises a questioning eyebrow.
- You photocopied a photo with the caption "Serge Lecourt between his mother and his girlfriends" suggesting that these two young ladies were his mistresses. Is that right? Carole Albert maintains a cordial relationship with her client. She is delighted the inventiveness it can demonstrate and the abundance of documents produced. At the same time she worries a little about the rigidity shown by Linda. There is a creaking sound:
- Yes, that's it.
- We absolutely have to find this bastard! Do you realize the gravity of the situation? You really don't know where it is? What have you planned to find him?
Carole Albert sets out to explain:
- There is a way to spread it. We must spread it widely, but without making waves. However, we already have enough material.
The lawyer writes on the theme of the damage caused to the wife by the husband who refuses in vitro fertilization.
- Where could he have gone? Don't you know and want to get alimony? A compensatory pension? Le pretium doloris? but my poor girl you're really not there at all! You want him to lay you a thousand bills and you don't even know not where it went!
Carole sucks my pencil. She must make a big effort in writing, even if she feels that he is there, that he is coming, it is going to be a very handsome Latendu. He needs a very sharp Latendu. She always keeps a "Latendu" in reserve. less ". It's always the best effect. She lifts the big Bible on her desk. She sucks on her pencil. The abandonment of the marital home does not seem satisfactory. Too common, we must find something else." Abandonment of the marital home. marital home in se refusing to have a child ", it is all the same more serious. The absurdity of the formula is of such power that it will certainly meet with adhesion. If it seems all the same difficult to make a child with its woman in his absence, it would seem that to refuse to have a child before slipping away is very rude. Having a child for his wife is not really rocket science. What a lack of consideration for the wife. We either go but all the same we deposit our little seed before go. So much for the fault. Now we need a damage. The husband refused in vitro fertilization, so the wife is obviously injured. She still has to give him a few thousand euros. There again it is so obvious that she feels in the depths of the spasm that lodges in the small of her back. Of course it will be moral damage. She is not a grocer, what she handles is of a much higher moral standard. Carole takes her leave. She walks Linda home in her usual way, patting her on the shoulder. She doesn't quite know why she is making this gesture, she always expects more or less to make him make a metallic sound. Then she makes a detour by a very classic folder. Like the great performers, she knows how to play all the tunes in her repertoire. This gives a Latendu of the most beautiful effect: "Latendu that the husband does not know how to curb his coarse appetites, and that he is the author of a abundant offspring, it is obvious that in initiating divorce proceedings, he could not avoid the obligation to provide for the needs of his offspring. "She highlighted" patent. "So from time to time she likes to congratulate herself on his choices of a appropriate vocabulary.
4 - Antoine RaGoogle... Antoine RaGoogle is a general practitioner. He intervenes to provide care to his patients. His role is also to redirect his patients to other professionals and this is undoubtedly how he best fulfills his role.
Antoine wedged his big belly behind the desk. The first client enters. It's the lady on the second floor who wants sleeping pills. And the real patients where are they? She wants a medical certificate ...
"I, the undersigned, certify that I have examined Mrs. ...., who tells me that she have been the victim of ill-treatment. I notice a bruise of 5cms by 5cms on the posterior face of the right arm. Treatment for 5 days. Certificate made to the request of the person concerned, delivered by hand, to assert that of right ".
Certificates delivered by hand! All the same it is quickly said! He did not examine the hands. He didn't really examine the arm either. Anyway, it is reimbursed by Social Security. He is aware of participating in a magnificent organization of work which will allow other valiant artists to express themselves on the theme of domestic violence. While his colleagues are advancing in age by asserting their expertise and developing their talents, Antoine feels his incompetence growing with each passing day. He has finally found his balance. Years of relapse alternated with periods of during which he managed to pull himself together and restore the image of a trustworthy practitioner, but the event immediately celebrated with some festive celebrations was inevitably followed by a new period of crisis and decline.
Now Antoine has deserted the battlefield and he gives free rein to the disorder of his organs, because he has reached the bottom of the abyss, to this state which must correspond to my metabolism and which makes him an obese alcoholic doctor and incompetent. Antoine wrote a new certificate and he contemplates his work. We cannot deny him the meaning of nuances and he scribbles like a real doctor. In the process he writes a work stoppage for his client. We can never warn people enough against work-related hazards. These are awkward positions that are dangerous for the muscles as well as for the skeleton, a nervous tension that sets in when the subject seeks to achieve his goals. Anxiety then takes over as soon as when he worries about not being able to reach them. Aware of his limits, Antoine writes very few prescriptions, a few lozenges for a coughing patient or a few inhalations for a cold and that's about it. On the other hand it provides its patients useful advice on how to protect themselves against certain dangers of everyday life using simple and effective methods that he himself has experimented with.
He knows that most of his colleagues are negligent and do not develop this preventive approach which is however so necessary. So it is common to see athletes severely disabled as a result of physical effort? Tears muscles, fractures, sprains, strains and injuries of all kinds, this is the fate reserved for athletes. This is why Antoine advises my clients to avoid playing sports. Usually he goes on to another subject: work. Dangerous abuse! Antoine encourages his patients not to endanger their health and to take a sick leave as soon as they feel the first symptoms (usually fatigue) Very often he perceives a discomfort on their part and he tries to dispel the discomfort and overcome their resistance. Why stop for a day? Would a week or fifteen days off be more appropriate? Often he sees a smile of relief on the face of his client who doubtless feared that his gait was wrong. interpreted and blamed on laziness. He tries to reassure him. We're not going to make a big deal out of it. It's a matter of a moment, just pick the right time, just like flirting. Antoine told himself that this mistress could be demanding and cruel. He is right because if life is good we must not to go on forever is a deteriorating relationship. Between life and him the relationship becomes ugly. She is still beautiful to others, but she has become severe on him. It allows him to contemplate it, but from afar, through the screen of his TV or behind the grimy curtains of a dusty house. He has no more strength and he has no more plans. It has become this ball that we drag, this body that stands in the way and that must be bypassed. We should be able to go back as one does to dance the tango, but its existence knows only one direction, that of degradation.
5 - By Serge and Linda... Linda has a question:
The alternative that presents itself is simple, it is either:
She's lovely of course, but there's nothing between us. It is completely excluded. Your insurance is good to see. On the other hand, the approach has a drawback: the question can be asked again.
So a first nuance of immediate surrender is that of aesthetic and non-lustful interest. The process is simple and efficient. Serge admits that the neighbor has not been indifferent to him, but instead of defending himself, he adopts the attitude of the observant esthete. He can thus show himself to be a connoisseur and allow his wife to join this very closed club of experts.
Following this invitation Linda will be able to pour out her bile and Serge will be able to measure his attachment by the yardstick of his suffering.
Another nuance is admitting that libido plays a role in the story. Contrition can be effective. She allows Serge to show his wife that she keeps the very first place, because he is impossible to lie to him. He is not responsible.
With very different effects Serge could have chosen to adopt the character of the beauf. He gave in to his appetites but we can't believe in the least that he was able to invest in this relationship. :
Elisa asks him how he is going to pay the next rent. Serge was counting on an increase that will not come. Linda takes yoga classes with a reputable guru and her latest expenses don't help. Tennis club, bridge club, all that costs crazy money. The conflict with Linda became almost permanent. Serge sometimes tries to reason with himself but nothing helps, discussions always end badly. He knows he can avoid triggering the mechanism by not addressing certain topics whom he knows to be sensitive, but nothing helped, an obscure force pushes him to provoke her at each of their meetings.
- Obviously this summer we could go, but as I know you don't like traveling, this summer I will go to my mother.
He hates that we think for him and decide for him:
- I don't like to travel? What do you know?
- We haven't made any trips for three years. You are too busy.
- With you that makes an average.
- You work too much, I preserve the peace of the world.
- You could excuse me from these mindless thoughts.
He couldn't help himself. She walks out of the room. When he crosses the living room a few minutes later, he notices that she has come to sit on the sofa staring frozen in gloomy contemplation. Maybe he should talk to her, but he ain't got none envy.
Serge observes him while buttering his toast and there he has a revelation. He sees a chewing. There is nothing else. It was that which had always escaped him. Clearly this jaw movement is not the most aesthetic thing we can produce. This movement can be a pause in a speech, a movement which accompanies others, but which does not mask the interest of a glance, the intensity of a speech. With her it is different. The movement is only mechanical. She chews with method without the slightest sign of attention to the stranger who came to take his place in front of it.
She slept badly. Of course he was eager to find out. He is not yet seated at the breakfast table when his moans are already assaulting him. She gives him all the details that will allow him to understand the origin of his pale complexion, of his dark circles and his brooding mood. All these details are delivered to him while he finishes the dishes of the day before to extract the bowl and the spoon with which he will be able to prepare his coffee. He made space for his cup of coffee after having dragged the various essential ingredients onto the table. For some time now he has lost his appetite and at the end of the day he can't wait to get back to work. A light breeze crosses the living room and the curtains are barely raised. she stops in the depths of the living room and contemplates my decor, the black leather armchairs, the golden straw secretary and the green velvet curtains. She picks up the cups. Here a stranger sat down for a moment before taking refuge behind the wall of his obligations. It was he who established the rules that govern his universe. In all areas of daily life, he asserted himself as the responsible, he owes itself to its company, it is only a cog in an organization intended to preserve the measure of the passing time. It is a time that he measures with precision and he no longer has the slightest second to devote to it.
6 - Jacques Valère... Jacques Valère is responsible for transmitting knowledge and he is involved in research on educational techniques that facilitate this process. Jacques does not have the best opinion of his colleagues. He observes them who him sidelong glances and confidences. He knows the theme of their speech. Coffee breaks are the setting in which they produce the exhalations of their heartburn. He easily imagines what they must produce at his place when it is not present. Armed with knowledge limited to the narrowness of their area of expertise, they thrive within these small committees by asserting a superiority in the unverifiable area of their ability to transmit limited knowledge by the boundaries of a program. When a doubt arises within this bastion of certainties, they try to reassure themselves by releasing a string of slander on their absent colleagues. Jacques listens with terror to the heart of calumnies. They will stay forever clinging to the narrow domain of their skill, ignorant of all the areas they will never tackle, far from too difficult paths they will revel in the ease of a eating routine.
Jacques had a strange dream. He became a merry-go-round horse after the harassment of ill-behaved toddlers. The crazy little girl who climbs it considers it like an old ganache. No respect. She takes out her cell phone and giggles endlessly while debiting a flood of considerations where it is mainly a question of look. There was a time when Jacques was still a young and handsome horse. It's finish. Now it is considered to be an old ganache. No respect. She giggles endlessly while spouting all kinds of considerations on one or another of his girlfriends. And then it's up to another rider to demonstrate his skills. He is a youngster unable to stand. They are not making any progress. This one wants to go fast but he does not master the basics at all. he is all excited and he forces his mount to accelerate the pace. Obviously he is wallowing. It's always the same. The level keeps getting worse. Is it because he is getting old? He finds them always coarser, always more unbearable. Theoretically they come to progress, in reality they make no effort. They consume riding lessons without ever really investing and at the end of the courses they barely know how to keep in the saddle. Later, of course, this does not get better.
The job is tiring. When the time has come for silence and discovery, they carry with them all the problems of their adolescence and they hold onto their cell phones. Yet should they read? They are however entitled to to prefer a good soap opera to a bad novel. Popular shows do not have the privilege of mediocrity. False empathy, forced laughter, sycophancy, the animators responsible for making them appreciate literature have abandoned the apostrophe for agreed postures of mediocrity.
Energy is our future. They got it right. They save themselves. There was a time when students skipped school to help out on the farm. Today, working with his hands is excluded. Pastry cream or fixing a bolt were in the technology programs. These activities were not rewarding enough. We were kind enough to grant a nobility to the printed circuits which require a real manual skill while forgetting that the complexity exceeds the framework of a mass education. Of course when all the factories that could disfigure the landscape have disappeared, why risk damaging your hands? Young people may have the chance to discover the pleasure of working with their hands but this will not be not at school and this is not the problem of an institution which achieves the fascinating mission of putting teachers in front of pupils according to a timetable. The institution has decided to settle for a soft consensus with a single credo: especially no waves. Parents know where their children are. For many of them, school is the place where they meet their friends. Jacques's mission is to bring out of the water a population of fish accustomed to evolving in its jar, an amorphous and uninteresting band that weighs on his boredom. A hand supports an exhausted head. A yawn. The girls are whispering. They organize their next outings, and they make plans for the future: they exchange the recipes that allow you to envision a bright future in the company of a footballer full of aces. Of course Jacques disturbs.
They are not always lazy. They were educated with a culture of reward. If there is a note they are ready to do well. It would have been enough for them to work quietly to succeed but they waited for the moment of control to put themselves at work. Jacques was forced to lower the level of difficulty, but it is still too difficult. The question "Present your analysis of the text" is too difficult a question, it is too complex a task. He must cut it into successive instructions. They consider their lack of understanding to be legitimate. Above all, do not wonder. Jacques must provide explanations which will enable them to complete their copies. Most of them won't take long. They consider the job finished when the copy is full and then the herd is patient while awaiting transfer to another room. Silly reflections, heard tunes, verbal attacks from time to time, what are they waiting for outside the when leaving the classroom? Dreams of escape are undoubtedly difficult to develop in these soulless spaces. They will come out with a diploma that attests to their patience and incapable of independent thinking, they will come to get caught up in the nets of all wizards expert in manipulation.
A drop of rain came crashing down on this heap of scrap metal and he suddenly stood up. Jacques contemplates this new being which emerges from a foul-smelling mud resulting from these hundreds of handwritten or printed pages whose slow decay has constituted the soil in which the creature has flourished. In its first version it experienced a monstrous development. It was a jungle, an inextricable tangle of pages crisscrossed with links, an accumulation of stories, of disordered sentences, an expanse without contours of mysterious dimensions. He walks in this immense desert. He is still progressing with difficulty because his feet are sinking into the sand. This time again, the white horse gallops towards him and he is fascinated by his extraordinary beauty. Magnificent in power, this horse seems to provide no effort. He walks forward, yet Jacques is not afraid when he suddenly stops a few steps away. He is waiting. It is an invitation to travel. Jacques hoists himself on his rump and they set off at a gallop. In perfect match they are an indestructible couple and they will conquer the world. But suddenly the horse slows down. Jacques understands that something abnormal is happening because his horse is struggling to move forward. In all this perfection, a tiny detail has come upset the beautiful balance. He stumbles. Jacques stiffens and he urges her to go further. It is no longer a stubborn and reluctant mule. Jacques had built his mount. Methodically, patiently, he had developed the algorithms that allowed him to build the great virtual horse which carried him in fantastic rides. There he collapses and his dream turns into a nightmare. He hits her sides with his heels but nothing helps. On the contrary: the more it beats the more it seems to dilute. Jacques believed himself invincible and he finds himself on the ground, desperate to be abandoned, to have been betrayed.
His workplace evokes less and less for him a preserved place. The staff have changed. They are more and more numerous with their beautiful blue shirts and the word "Security" written in big white letters. There are more and more grids. The true strength does not have to show itself and when it does it only expresses failure. The school also they will have succeeded in breaking it. They install security guards in schools where they will not put their children. These schools take on the appearance of prisons. They built walls and put up gates but we do not know if they are intended to prevent intruders from entering or to prohibit those who are destined to flourish there from leaving. All this device will be commented in the bars of the neighborhood on the theme of ineluctable violence. And yet how different are children today? Lack of hope and anger were not written in their genes.
- Take the elevator with all the cleaning equipment and reach the sixth floor.
- Repeat the cleaning of a landing and the descent of a floor.
- Until arriving on the ground floor.
Each of these operations can itself be broken down into a series of simple actions. So the cleaning is broken down into a series of repetitive gestures which might seem boring, but while Madame Algo performs them with exactitude her mind escapes and surrenders to the delights of the conditional structure. While she is busy, Madame Algo wonders, trying to guess what is going on behind the door of the inhabitants of the building.
Jacques Valère goes out to buy his bread.
Page 3 - Bakery...
1 - Bread... Grisoblinsky follows his path without really being interested in the store windows . There is no store for the item he is looking for. People here are not crazy enough to have organized the sale of a product intended to kill. Grisoblinky knows that there are countries where the exercise of the right to kill has been trivialized to such an extent that children know more about the handling of weapons than about the most elementary disciplines. In these countries the arms market is identical to that of DIY products. There's a lot amateurs who compete with real professionals. Grisoblinsky is happy to be currently in a country where his qualification is not in dispute.
The problem for Grisoblinky is that he has to find a weapon in a country that has a considerable number of shops for food. Here the bread is not an industrial product but it is the result of the work of a craftsman who kneads his bread and bake it in his oven.
Jacques Valère regularly changes his route to get his bread because there are several bakeries around his building. To accomplish his job Grisoblinsky must have three elements: a pistol, bullets and the person he must kill. Regarding the victim, he can check that the face corresponds to the one he received by email from Madame Chelou. Now he has to find the gun.
Page 4 - Levels...
1 - Jeanne Marge... Chez Jeanne
2 - Carole Albert... Chez Carole Albert
3 - Antoine RaGoogle... Chez Antoine
4 - Chez Serge et Linda... Linda se rend chez son coifeur. Elle croisera Grisoblinsky.
5 - Fisrt level... The building has six floors. There is little traffic, but Grisoblinsky's outfit makes him easily identifiable. He could use the door code he has memorized but he prefers to announce his arrival. Grisoblinsky presses the button of the intercom and announces a ZoneAma delivery. No one answers but he pushes the door when it is unlocked. Rather than taking the elevator he goes up the stairs to avoid any encounter. We must act methodically, Grisoblinsky counts carefully up the floors while climbing. The name is on the door. He takes the gun out of the bag and slips it into his jacket. He is convinced that the professor will be alone but it is a woman of about thirty who opens the door to him. She is wearing a white apron. For Grisoblinsky this is an annoyance. If he sees no difficulty in eliminating the girl, however, he must heed the instructions he has received and the instruction is to do minimal collateral damage. The teacher's daughter, his mistress or his good? Surely she spotted the tattoo sticking out of the jacket. Grisoblinsky did not pass anyone in the building. If he wants to walk away incognito, his options are limited. We must always act methodically. The professor seems to have invested himself in a complex culinary preparation and Grisoblinsky understands that the young  girl is there to lend him a hand. The girl stays in the kitchen doorway. It seems like to do his job Grisoblinsky doesn't really have a choice. The professor ignores him completely. He addresses the young girl: “You have to add a pinch of salt and a little pepper. Place the package on the chest in the entrance. Does he want a signature? Finally the girl steps aside and the professor comes to frame the kitchen door. He spins a wooden spoon in a saucepan. From the smell it must be a Ratatouille. Any delay becomes counter  productive but he lets the teacher open the package.
Grisoblinsky has decided to get it right and then finds it amusing to have the professor's signature on the ZoneAma delivery slip given to him. Grisoblinsky realizes he made a mistake when he hears the front door go close. We must speed up the pace. Grisoblinsky retrieves the signed voucher with one hand and shoots it in the chest with the other. The girl didn't see her gun, but she probably had a hunch. Grisoblinsky does not see what could have caused his flight. He doesn't see her on the landing, and he doesn't hear the sound of her footsteps on the stairs. Grisoblinsky leaves the front door open to the spectacle of the professor bathing in a mixture of blood and ratatouille. He wants to prevent the apartment door from closing automatically. Grisoblinsky opens the elevator door, the girl is there, she remains prostrate. Grisoblinsky shoots him in the head. The girl's white apron is stained with blood. It's absurd, but he puts a hand on the girl's neck. She is really dead. Grisoblinsky returns to the apartment and steps over the professor's body. He progresses, avoiding stepping on the mixture of blood and ratatouille that has spilled on the tiled hallway and kitchen. Grisoblinsky has degenerate tastes, color and smell pleasing to him. He takes care to put out the fires on the stove. A domestic accident or a burning smell should not be the alert. Grisoblinsky shoots a extra bullet in the professor's head. Everything is in order. It's time to go. Grisoblinsky was overwhelmed by events and he regrets the murder of the girl, but it is urgent to leave the place. he picks up the package and slips it under his arm. The order is to leave the pistol in place, but Grisoblinsky takes it with him as he had planned. After all, it's his working tool and he doesn't want to leave any traces behind.
6 - Mrs Algo... The murder doesn't mean much to Grisoblinsky. He does not put in his task any feeling of hatred. In fact for him it's a job like any other, you just have to not be clumsy. Grisoblinsky saw his target only once. The teacher was assigned to him as he was crossing the street to the bakery in front of his building. A fairly ordinary character. This gentleman has a large number of friends on the Petit Stewpot, but in his neighborhood he seems ignored by his neighbors. Grisoblinsky pulls up the collar of his jacket to hide the tattoos that have invaded his neck. When he works he wears clothes that can fit him allow you to blend in with the crowd. Grisoblinsky is very happy with his tattoos, but when he works he regrets being easily spotted. With his jacket and sneakers he looks like a young commuter. Grisoblinsky adopted the look of the delivery man. He is holding a package under his arm. The package contains a book. On his shoulder he carries a sports bag in which the pistol on which he has screwed a silencer is easily accessible.
Page 5 - Hard Rock Cafe...
1 - Hard Rock Cafe... Grisoblinsky opened the package and threw the books in it in a garbage box. He reads a few names on the covers: André Gide, Albert Camus, André Malraux ... it doesn't mean anything to him, the only names he knows are names of football players. He is seated at a table in the Hard Rock Café. He follows the Rolling Stones on screen while lustfully monitoring the waitress's movements. He thinks about the girl in the white apron. Almost the same figure, he tries again to convince himself, he couldn't help it. Grisoblinsky orders himself a beer.
The one he'd been waiting for finally makes her entrance and she propels her voluminous forms between the tables. She is strapped into a black dress. She slumps down in front of Grisoblinsky:
- I thought you would never come, Madame Chelou. Do you have the money?
She is not really interested in her interlocutor. Madame Chelou waves to the waitress:
- Give me a Milk Shake
The milkshakes from Hard Rock Café are particularly tasty.
- In the bag
Grisoblinsky examines the contents of a small canvas bag:
- Only 100 banknotes?
- You can't pay such a sum with 10 notes. Anyway, I'm just an intermediary.
Madame Chelou seems especially interested in the tattooed rocker riddled with piercings at the next table.
- You want me to tell you how it went? There was a girl ...
- No please, I don't want to hear about it. I am just an intermediary. My clients have asked me to find someone for an assignment, that's all.
Grisoblinsky laughs mockingly:
- Is that what your customers call themselves?
Somewhere in the world a name has been crossed off a list. The bag must not be worth much compared to the financial interests at stake. Grisoblinsky owns nothing other than the clothes he wears on him and the sports bag where the small bag of tickets go to join the gun he should have left behind.
- Okay, I have to go.
- Goodbye dear sir, Goodbye!
Chantilly cream makes Madame Chelou a mustache.
2 - Boubaker... Madame Chelou is finishing her Milk Shake. She joined rue Grenette and rushed into the Cordeliers metro station. She chose a hotel far enough from her meeting place. It's cold and she thinks of little Boubaker who must wait for her warm in bed. A little youngster as she loves them and whom she picked up yesterday at the airport. It is almost 11 o'clock. She sees her brown hair emerging from the sheets.
Madame Chelou walks towards the bed and she slides a hand under the sheets.
- It's not okay ? What is wrong with you ? Haven't you had enough all night?
- Come on! Be nice! Look at it only takes to live!
- Okay ! Wait, let's take a selfie!