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by Matteo F.M. Sommaruga

The gentle light of the morning penetrated the blinders to hit the screens of the few desktops left in the office. Nobody was there and I could enjoy my loneliness. Perhaps the secretary had already entered, and sit at her own place staring at the wall, with a well set smile ready to welcome anyone could have approached the entrance. Ready to sign on her pc date and time as well, in case an intruder should linger too much looking around for some valuable piece to pick without consent.

On the contrary, in the open space where I sat, the only human being was focused on a quite far world time, apt to work overnight, from 8 p.m. to 4 a.m. Eight hours, not nine, since without supervision, no social lunch break is required. Indeed the party time for many dandies, from the Campari to the late night last dance. New Zealand could provide the best solution, if these were my requirements. Quite an advanced country, no fear of devalued currency, although the Euro seemed to be quite strong during those days, an open society full of opportunities.

Indeed, I felt like a pioneer, ready to sail to an unknown land to exploit the treasures of the local nature and the kindness of natives. A beautiful green, surrounded by hills, mountains covered by the snow, a swimming pool, the water blue like the sky above, in the middle. That's the hearth of the ICT park promised by the web sites. I could have been lured by the idea to move there, but my mind had already been affected by the idea to humiliate myself living under a clandestine recovery on the terrace. My way to despise the Italian industry and put a mark on the condition of professionals. People that in other places and times should have highly regarded, but were instead constantly bullied in that incoming holocracy.

Yet, I should work off-shore, from the home-office or, according to my plans, under a Plexiglas roof at the moonlight. Or what about some rechargeable solar light cell, stealing the energy for my enterprise from the red sun of the Italienische Demokratische Republik? I still had a lot of work to do, my ideas were still full with contradictions. Just the day before I expected to operate from the inside of the office, but if I really wanted to impose a western style economy, how could I behave like a boy from a South-American shanty town? On my opinion Robin Hood was just a commie, and I was ready to fight the commies.

My thoughts were becoming to chaotic, I had to keep quiet and focused on my target. Like a professional analyst I had to collect the requirements at first and type on the Google bar: "What should I do to work off-shore?".

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On the other side of Berlin Wall

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