An early morning Mr X realized that nobody knew. And it seemed intolerable. He decided on the field - and this was indeed the first decision he took in his life - to end, by any means, at any price, this deplorable state of affairs. For his idea, he was truly unjust - and not just uncomfortable - no one knew of its existence.
It was not for his talents that he wanted to be known, and indeed, they were rare, weak, and frankly uncertain. Its capabilities had barely hoisted with an obscure post of accountant in a small company that manufactured forgotten cardboard packaging for mark cheese portions. Down a dusty corridor in an office whose windows looked out on a suburban dead, Mr. X all day sharpening pencils and laboriously checked relentless correspondence columns of income and expenditure. It was not even one of these model employees who are the pride of the small entrepreneur, these docile will try that put their pride to draw straight lines or make additions to the exact decimal point, his job bored him and he n 'it took no pleasure. Mistakes regularly peppered his records, not enough to put his job in jeopardy, but too much for him to be awarded the blue ribbon for best book of the department. This blue ribbon had even won a few years earlier his office mate, which earned him his picture in the local newspapers, and consideration of its baking.
For Mr. X, no picture, no consideration, no knowing glances and smiles whispering in his way: "It's him! this is it! but if, finally, everyone talks about him! yes, him there ... He ... "
His physique was as any. Medium size, brown hair and dull hazel eyes without luster, tight-lipped, thin up without wasting, classic elegance without, regular features, but without charm. No one turned on him, like his friend Z., sporty and full of pace, as Japanese tourists had ever tried to photograph as they strolled both under the arcades of the Rue de Rivoli. Had he
great moral qualities? Often things that fortune does not have externally proved extraordinarily rich in terms of emotions, was there a huge generosity, courage of a lion hidden beneath its innocuous? Or goodness of Samaritan, collecting the lost kitten, picking up the packages fell on the sidewalk, cross old women being terrified children or careless? None of that. Mr. X's heart was as narrow as his overcoat, soul petty and short ideas. He loved what everybody loves, took his vacation in August, had a childhood friend whom he had long been nothing more to say, and voted in every election for the majority. He paid his taxes by third parties to give nothing to the Treasury, took two euro each Sunday in the quest because it is a round, saw her parents once a month and still took over Leg. He had married, with a former classmate, who had left after a few years to join a photographer, and Mr. X was very well aware his departure. To be honest, he was even relieved because she was not working, and he hoped through his divorce make significant savings. It was not, strictly speaking, greed, no, just an occupational hazard. Mr. X considered personal expenses with the same objectivity that he adopted to verify that they sold well as cardboard packaging that we manufactured. For this book, expenditure was always a cash outflow, and the fact that money used to pay a bill plumber or a restaurant bill did not change the loss.
Divorce inaugurated by Mr X and a period of financial prosperity based on a greater sense of economy and value. He did more shopping in supermarkets offering the best prices, periods of promotion if possible, his hair was cut by an apprentice hairdressers, driving its output in preference to the free concerts that provide music lovers penniless Parisian churches , costumes were reduced in number four - one for each season, maintained with scrupulous care. His bank account grows at a rate which even emptied her closets.
Such a system certainly aggravated the anonymity of a few MX Her knowledge grew tired of the organ of St. Eustache, and when émirent repeatedly the desire to eat in any brewery, MX decided to slow the course of his galloping social life. He went so quickly that the cheapest brand, whatever the product is always the one that chooses the largest number of people, and that nothing strange contrast of any of its neighbors. At that point came to doubt a single person in the world knows her name. How many people know me, "he said one day? Who has, somewhere, my phone number? This is a very interesting question, and for Mr. X was as infallible criterion for assessing the "social impact" of a person. Who has my phone number? Or better yet: who wants to have it? He decided that parents and families in general do not count, his mother herself had a very full address book, but most of the details collected in this valuable instrument were by chance, and concerned people she knew nothing, and she cared absolutely no knowledge. His friends no longer existed, they had followed the call of the belly, disdaining the only charm of her conversation. In his work, he had no subordinate who might feel the need to join, as his boss, he was quite certain that he'd much rather call him in his office rather than to make a phone call. Mr. X then came to this harsh conclusion: there was no chance that his phone rings in the near future.
This conclusion was devoured several days, until that famous morning when he decided he needed all costs out of anonymity. Whatever the cost ... but without spending money - at least as far as possible. The problem was very difficult. But Mr X does not abandon his idea, and every day, every hour, he turned eagerly in his mind, waiting .. What? The idea that lightning would strike like lightning and would open the gates of glory. But nothing happened for a long time.
Finally one day he bought a newspaper. Some say they do not see this as buying a newspaper so extraordinary. But Mr. X, since the arrival of free newspapers in town, had arranged the press and all that were insured in the expense column totally unnecessary. So it was indeed a providential coincidence - or divine inspiration, depending upon whether believer or atheist, that I leave here the choice of agnosticism - another morning, which followed three months of the the fatal decision, Mr X had wanted to read a newspaper a little thicker than usual. As he did not know the exact price of the thing, he took precautions, and armed himself with a ten euro note and another twenty. This choice led him into a series of lavish spending and unexpected, because to get the money that he demanded the incorruptible tobacconist, he needed to buy a baguette and a croissant from a bakery inflexible. He went home grumbling, made a little coffee with a croissant and toast, unfolded the newspaper and then he saw her. An announcement
, huge, spread out on the second page, the police stood out bright red gray usual characters, and the letters had a height of at least five centimeters:
YOU DREAM TO BE FAMOUS? ANONYMITY YOU WEIGHED? YOU WANT YOUR NAME IN THIS JOURNAL? CALL THE FAST: 09 00 00 00 09
With a boldness that surprised himself, Mr. X took his phone and dialed the number. Almost immediately, a soft female voice sounded in his ear:
"Hello, yes, hello? Company Everything to please you, what can I do for you?
Hello, hello, yes, it's about the ad in the newspaper.
's announcement? Yes sir, do not leave, I beg you ... "
After a few seconds, he heard again the sweet voice:
"Are you available today? Yes, around 13 pm? That's fine, sir, go 12 rue de Charenton and ask Madame Simone. Thank you, goodbye. "
Mr. X could not swallow anything that morning. At 12 h 30 it was before the 12 rue de Charenton. He was a tall modern building, all glass and concrete. The company logo "All for you please," huge, stretched on the facade at the 7th floor.
Simone was a large hag, a frightening vulgarity. She stared at Mr. X with a disdainful air, and reluctantly, offered him a chair. Mr. X sat a bit disappointed by the shabby appearance of his vis-à-vis. He doubted that this matron ragged, garish makeup, could help in his quest for glory.
"So you read the ad? asked, her voice unpleasant.
Yes.
And here you are ... We have not had many answers.
must say that this is not very explicit.
You came, though.
I'm not curious by nature ... "This answer pleased
Ms. Simone. She went out of his pocket a packet of cigarettes and a lighter.
"You smoke?
No. I suspected it would
me ... "
She smiled
by sending to the ceiling with thick swirls smelly.
"This is something unusual. Are you ready for what exactly? At any
, provided it is effective.
Oh, it will be. No doubt about it. Tomorrow, everyone you know ...
So I'm your man. Wait
still want me to explain what it is about ... "As
as the project took shape under the lisping voice inflections of Simone, the eyes of Mr. X s'écarquillaient. A grave silence followed the end of the long monologue of the Gorgon, that broke a cough MX
"Obviously it's a bit ...
You have nothing signed, you can say no. But in this case do it quickly, I have other candidates to meet and I have no time to lose. "He thought
, had a thought for his poor existence, for the emptiness that surrounded him, for the endless boredom which he seemed destined. And slowly, he shook his head.
The next day, a dense crowd stormed the headquarters of the company "Everything to please you," listen to the speech by Aldo Tanizi at the opening of his exhibition. The artist thanked, movingly and warm, the dedication of Ms. Simone generous patron through which "The man keeps," a masterpiece of daring and virtuosity plastic, had finally been born.
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