everyone pay the same maintenance costs when they didn’t get the same level of service? People who lived nearest the security lodge were better protected; in contrast, others suffered more from the stink of trash. Every month she would make variants of these complaints to the administration office.
When the outstanding interest of her downstairs neighbor’s debt was waived so he would pay off what he owed, Perdumes had to take her to his apartment and try to calm her. Of course she was right. The most frustrating thing was that everyone else was blinded by sentimental conformity. Had she noticed the gradual deterioration in Villa Miserias? Oh, yes, Don Selon, but that riffraff get what they deserve. Stupendous! Though it’s not really their fault, Orquídea. They’ve never had it any other way. Oh, I know, but what do I do? Sit here twiddling my thumbs? Of course not, Orquídea. But sudden upheavals are bad for everyone. Don’t forget that, bad for everyone. Would you excuse me a moment?
Perdumes returned with a sword and a porcelain jug to explain the details of Quietism in Motion. First, we have to accept things as they really are, not how we’d like them to be. If inequality is inevitable, why not accept that as a point of departure? Oh, I don’t know, Don Selon. Where does that leave those of us who started at the bottom? Splendid! That’s what I’m getting to. It’s the reason why I brought my jug. As you well know, those who make the effort get their reward. Unfortunately, they are always in the minority, and it’s not fair that the others should get the same, just because. Let’s see, I’m going to ask you a question. Don’t you find it beneficial to watch your show-off neighbors going on cruises? It’s well known that people better off than ourselves help us to try to improve. If the carrot is too close to the horse, the animal will stop walking. The problem is that some people think we’re all thoroughbreds by right.
The dialogue with Orquídea went on for weeks, moving slowly toward more specific issues. Then Perdumes suddenly, with an air of indifference, asked the question: Why don’t you put your name down for the election, Orquídea? Jeez, Don Selon! What election? We all know the same old people appoint the next president. Extraordinary! You’re right, but only because we’ve let them, Orquídea. Have you read the regulations of Villa Miserias? I have. If there’s more than one candidate, they organize elections. Hmm, so why has it never happened, Don Selon? Brilliant! For the same reasons we’ve talked about so often, Orquídea, but I believe an increasing number of residents are opening their eyes. Have you seen whose name they’ve put forward this time? Yes, that halfwit Epifanio Buenaventura, who can’t even talk properly. Incredible! Didn’t I tell you, Orquídea? You’re ready for action. If you don’t mind my saying so, more than a choice, I believe it’s a duty.
The young assistant in the administration office suspected something was wrong: Orquídea López didn’t fling open the glass door. This time she slipped quietly in and stood motionless in front of his desk, regulations in hand, savoring the moment before the assault. After pinning her victim in his seat with her stare, she announced her intention to register as a candidate. Taken unawares, he began to seek a response among the disorganized papers on the desk, but was unable to come up with anything better than noting her details on a blank sheet to gain time while he consulted his superior. Making an enormous effort to contain her laughter, Orquídea demanded the stamped acknowledgement of receipt she still has framed in the living room of her apartment.
Having closed the office early, the young man telephoned his superior to explain what had happened. An emergency meeting was called and Selon Perdumes was in attendance. So much excitement made Epifanio Buenaventura’s tongue even clumsier than usual; the scant hair combed across his crown was beaded with sweat. He gave his father a pleading look in the hope of being able to abandon the race. No one knew quite what to say. They racked their brains in search of a strategy to ensure the victory of Epifanio, that representative of the only way of life they knew, but every word he spoke only sunk them deeper into despondency.
“De thing is dat I don’t know de firsht thing about campaignsh.”
Defeat was a foregone conclusion. Even Perdumes felt sorry for Buenaventura, and attempted to alleviate his suffering. Thus the regulations that would, from then on, be enforced in political contests in Villa Miserias were created.
3
REGULATIONS FOR THE VILLA MISERIAS PRESIDENTIAL ELECTIONS
1. IN ORDER TO INTRUDE AS LITTLE AS POSSIBLE INTO THE LIVES OF THE RESIDENTS OF OUR COMMUNITY, ELECTORAL CAMPAIGNS WILL LAST A MAXIMUM OF ELEVEN DAYS.
2. TO GUARANTEE A MINIMUM OF FAIRNESS, ALL RESIDENTS WILL BE CHARGED AN EXTRAORDINARY SUM TO BE SHARED BETWEEN THE CANDIDATES.
3. PRIVATE DONATIONS WILL BE ALLOWED UNDER THE FOLLOWING CONDITIONS: THE AMOUNT AND NAME OF THE DONOR MUST BE DULY REGISTERED WITH THE ADMINISTRATION. THIS INFORMATION WILL THEN BE KEPT IN CONDITIONS OF STRICT PRIVACY SO THAT THE VARIOUS DONATIONS CANNOT INFLUENCE THE ELECTORATE’S DECISION.
4. EACH BUILDING WILL ORGANIZE ITS OWN MEETING TO CHOOSE THE CANDIDATE TO BE GIVEN ITS VOTE. TENANTS MAY ONLY ATTEND THIS MEETING BY PREVIOUS WRITTEN AUTHORIZATION OF THE OWNER OF THE APARTMENT.
5. ANY UNFORESEEN DIFFICULTIES AND THE DUE SANCTIONS FOR VIOLATION OF THE RULES STIPULATED IN THIS DOCUMENT WILL BE RESOLVED BY THE BOARD. THE ELECTORAL POWERS OF THIS BOARD WILL BE PUBLISHED AT THE APPROPRIATE MOMENT.
During the period when this document was being drawn up, several objections were raised and were immediately cut short by Selon Perdumes’ alabaster smile. Who’s going to want to fork out money for an irritating, shallow spectacle? No price can be put on the right to make decisions. Why are people who rent second-class residents? The vision of the owners is more likely to protect what in reality belongs to us all. What will candidates be able to buy with the private donations? The donations are simply to help the transmission of a message. The residents’ consciences aren’t for sale. When are we going to decide on the regulations for the intervention of the board? Would you excuse me a moment?
The public reading of the document sank all doubts as a stream of water sucks the spider into its eddy. The faces of all present displayed grave satisfaction; they suspected they had created something that was greater than the sum of its parts. No one in his right mind would dare to question it. Epifanio Buenaventura became unusually fearless:
“And we can convinshe dem dat I’m de besht candidate, can’t we?”
Selon Perdumes kept his alabaster smile in check. Quietism in Motion had just cut its first tooth.
4
After confirming yet again that there were no tea bags left in the packet, Max Michels wavered between tearing it to pieces for its insolence and ensuring that he was really alone in the apartment. You only got away with it because she was running late, you miserable sod. And what if she finds there’s no tea for her breakfast? Better buy another packet before going and committing the supreme idiocy of becoming a candidate. I’ve got better things to do, she can buy her own fucking tea if she likes it so much. Huh, you’re all balls when she’s not around. Let’s see if it’s the same tonight.
At the level temporarily reserved for what he understood as his Himself, Max wondered if he really was about to add his name to the list of previous Epifanio Buenaventuras. Thinking it over, registering for the election was an enormously arrogant act. What did he hope to gain by it? Before being obliged to conclude that what he was searching for was to be found somewhere else, he preferred to finish off his interior monologue. Better to stick with the dreaded Epifanio than see yourself turned into him.
The residents of Villa Miserias reacted to the news of the electoral reforms with indifference. Few of them showed much inclination to follow the spectacle closely, but it soon became apparent that this was an advantage for the candidates. Even Buenaventura and his team realized that hardly anyone had what it took to form a sound opinion: the challenge was to learn to speak the dialect of the guts.
Even though—for obvious reasons—there was no question about the result of the contest, Orquídea floored her opponent with a speech that, if more abstract, also managed to strike the simplest of chords. In contrast to Epifanio, who promised to sort out the plumbing and construct more play areas for the children, Orquídea sketched the porous