DISABILITIES CHRONICLES

Serge had lost his job due to an economic layoff. No need to code algorithms anymore, artificial intelligence was now doing it very well ! He was therefore in professional retraining, searching for something he could do to earn a living, and also, it must be said, to give purpose to his life. Him, who had only ever lived through screens, felt like he was deprived of existence without them. Without a computer, it was like he lacked a role in this society. It was these machines that somehow conferred his legitimacy. Without them, he could no longer express his potential or his creativity. Because the latter only manifested through the software he improved, always taking great care to keep his emotions to himself... He only allowed himself to have emotions about things that never put him in danger, virtual or non-committal things, or only things related to pseudo-secure family matters.

He was thus now spending his time in a certain boredom, having lost faith in his own usefulness in the world. What could he possibly do to help others ? Him, who was now sinking like a stone, unable to help himself !

One evening, as he walked alone through the streets, he came across a huge illuminated display window. People were performing in front of it with slow movements, like a kind of Thai-chi, but embellished with dance, as it all seemed improvised. They were not facing the display window but rather the spectators who could also be seen. However, it was as if they did not care about that either, intertwining together in a sensual ensemble, adjusting their movements to one another in improbable tribal symmetries. One foot over the other, a leg gracefully withdrawing from that of its ephemeral partner. And always with an inspired and transported facial expression…

Sometimes, they would quicken the pace, jumping in this pure white room from top to bottom. It was neither a bar nor a library. Serge moved closer to the entrance door. Not to go in, no, he didn’t want to be a killjoy. Just to understand what this place was that hosted these strange people… A man, very tall and slender with long black hair, was playing the flute. He looked like a magician. He already had many wrinkles on his face, but for some unknown reason, it was clear that his wrinkles were much more laughter lines than frown lines. Tibetan bowls surrounded him.

"CULTURAL ASSOCIATION" was written on the glass entrance door.

“Were there still people who believed enough in the human being to give their time like that, for free ?” He thought associations were nothing more than a thing for elderly people…

"Do you want to come in ?" He was asked.

He turned around. A young brunette woman was standing in the doorway and smiling at him. Yes, she was indeed talking to him. For once, he was the privileged interlocutor. Him, who had spent the last few years locked behind a desk in front of a computer executing tasks in the shadows.

- Uh yes, why not... He ventured, a little intimidated by the young woman's wide angelic smile. Did he really deserve so much attention? 

She opened the door a little more and he stepped inside for the first time. From the inside, of course, it was quite different. To be honest, it was even much better. The golden and soft light made everything even more beautiful, the sensuality of the dancers' movements, the depth of their gazes, everything. 

The music had actually no melody and was curious, but soon, as he sat among the few spectators, he felt drawn to it. Or rather, he wanted to mingle with this group of strangers. He didn't know them but wanted to get to know them, to taste them through their gestures filled with tenderness and beauty. He wanted to join this circle of madness too…

And it was as if the young woman had read his thoughts:

- You can join them if you want. The second part of the outing is for improvisation.

- Oh really ? He asked, a bit dazed.

- Well yes, totally ! But I advise you to take off your shoes, you'll be more comfortable… If you want, I can come with you.

- I don't know, I've never done this in my life… I'm not a very good dancer and even less of a choreographer.

- Neither are some of us, I assure you ! She replied, laughing. 

- She held out his hand, and he didn't hesitate any longer. She was wearing strange clothes, but she was so pretty, at least to him… Serge was about to inhabit his body for the first time. And also his heart. He didn't know if he would find a job again, nor how much time he had left to live, but for now, and perhaps for the first time in his life, he felt like he was truly living.