Bug by Giacomo Sartori

Bug by Giacomo Sartori

Author:Giacomo Sartori [Sartori, Giacomo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: I Am God, disability, artificial intelligence, technology, climate change, deaf narrator, dysfunctional family, family story, humorous novels, satire, Nutella, terorrism, italian fiction, books about italy, speech therapy, apiculture, robots, Elizabeth Kolbert, Eva Hoffman, Elizabeth McKenzie, Wes Anderson, AI, diversity, Richard Powers, Annie Proulx, Barkskins
Publisher: Restless Books
Published: 2021-02-01T23:00:00+00:00


When we finished filtering the soil we sat down on a nice cushion of dried leaves, and Grandpa took our sandwiches out of his prehistoric knapsack. Salami? I joked, signing, and he smiled, because as everyone knows, he, too, eats no animals. Like all of us, before that carnivore, Papa, moved in. Papa thinks my brain won’t develop properly if I don’t eat cadavers.

You really went too far with that business of the swimming pool, he said out loud, after a couple of bites in silence. I knew he was going to come out with that remark, I’d been expecting it all morning. In some ways it felt liberating, like the first thunderbolt that hits when the storm’s become inevitable.

The thing is, it was her birthday, I signed with the hand holding the sandwich.

That’s no justification for anything, you don’t steal because it’s somebody’s birthday, he said, once again in words.

I didn’t steal, I replied.

You stole the number of your father’s credit card, which is the same thing, he retorted, pushing his head back and lengthening his neck.

This was going to go on for a while, I knew that from the beginning, because Grandpa is not one to race though a discussion in two points. Still, hope springs eternal that the program will be canceled by a stray meteorite or terrorist attack with many dead.

My friend convinced me, I told him without meaning to, pointing at the phone I had in hand. Sometimes the signs just take over, and they can get you in trouble.

Grandpa had stopped eating and he was staring at me almost as if I’d insulted him. There is no friend. You made that up, he said, holding his sandwich far from his mouth. The spots on his neck were red, he was very indignant.

There really is a friend; I’ll introduce you, I signed, showing him the phone again. I wanted him to see how insistent BUG could be when he wanted.

My grandfather wants to meet you, I wrote to him. He didn’t reply. He wasn’t there just then, or in any case he was silent. Silent as a rock, silent as a phone whose battery is dead.

Are you there, BUG? I inquired again. His silence was traitorous. The guy was always underfoot, except in that precise moment. Answer me right away! I wrote. Nada, zilch. He showed no signs of life.

Your imagination is full of things, but reality is what’s all around us, not what we construct in our heads, Grandpa said sharply, pointing his index finger at our surroundings.

It’s very important that you learn to see that your fantasies are not real, he said to me, after he’d given it some thought and resumed chewing. I wanted to show him the chat I’d just had with my friend, but it didn’t seem a good idea when I remembered our talk about the Allolobophora chlorotica and the English teacher.



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