6
During the following periods, the outline of Villa Miserias’ electoral ritual was more clearly defined. By means of signals and coded language, Perdumes encouraged or frustrated aspirations. He investigated the most intimate affairs of the candidates. It soon became obvious that the least fruitful way to participate was by demonstrating any intention to do so. Those who put themselves forward independently were subtly destroyed. Rumors would begin to circulate about their habits and proclivities: one left his dog’s urine lying on the living-room floor for days; another had borrowed money from his mother-in-law to get a hair transplant. The rumors were never completely destructive: they were warnings about what would happen if the person in question didn’t desist. He should go about his normal life and simply wait for the appropriate signal.
A dichotomous formula came to be the norm. Its plurality was based on a moving axis, situated more or less halfway between the two candidates. Generally, the contrasts were basic: man/woman, young/old, good-looking/plain. In this way, an impression of difference was transmitted. The reality was that the following two-year periods were almost interchangeable: the same person in a different format. The estate was on a steady course.
At the end of their term, they all received the same statue, with slight updates. The hill on which the figure stood went progressively upward and the sphere advanced a little farther. It was a matter of creating sufficient inertia for it to move unaided, flattening every obstacle that came in its path.
7
The day he decided to stand as a candidate, Max Michels dressed slowly and deliberately. While he was searching every corner of the apartment for his socks, he came across a thick, leather-bound volume on the study table. The night before, he’d been consulting it until the early hours, unable to focus. Irrespective of the content, the shadowy outline of a female figure would begin to form on the paper. Although Max had attempted to quash it by turning the page, each one seemed identical to the last, and the form had gathered new strength to return to torment him.
He aborted his exhaustive search for the socks when he noticed they were in his hand. While he was putting them on, he tried to return to the world of shadows, but a silent voice cut in: Shut up, you moron! Better get a move on before you change your mind. Or don’t you have the balls?
It was no moment for confronting the Many, so he opted for taking refuge in continuing his recollection of the situation he’d so often gone through in the past. He was well aware that the beginning of Villa Miserias’ contemporary history was marked by the sacrifice of Severo Candelario, the only previous person to register his candidacy without Selon Perdumes’ permission. It could even be said everything that had happened before consisted of the construction of a two-level altar. One cosmetic and visible; the other deep and intangible.
The former involved the introduction of the relevant modifications. The majority of buildings already had discussion groups on Quietism in Motion, but the most stalwart had taken things to levels never imagined by its creator, particularly in relation to the degree of scientific precision involved. To differentiate themselves from the many other failed ideologues, they clothed the theory in an almost irrefutable dogma: mathematics. They understood that if one starts from the appropriate assumptions, it is possible to come to the most implacable conclusions. Their minds were like scrap metal balers fed by a particular configuration of reality, and compressing it into a series of theorems that, in essence, proved the same thing: individual destiny can be based on nothing other than a person’s abilities. Hypnotized by the demonstrable, they didn’t realize that their path transformed the very conception of ability. They were like children who create imaginary friends only to then blindly follow their commands. By means of indecipherable algebraic progressions, they reified the virtue of a lack of scruples. From then onward, those who put their own interests first would be the ones to stand out from the crowd. Mathematics expunged any last vestige of guilt. In fact, they turned it on its head: the greater the determination to excel, the greater the benefit to those others. The new common goal was to ensure the cake continued to grow forever. Talking about sharing it out became a poor-taste anachronism.
The process started with the individualization of the service charges, calculated on the base of the coefficient. The apartments on upper floors paid a higher percentage as it required more energy to pump the water from the cistern up there, the gas had to run through more yards of piping, and they were less afflicted by the racket of the daily bustle down below. The coefficient also addressed the other factors mentioned above, thus condensing the defining characteristics of each person with respect to his peers. Rather than displeasing them, the level of the coefficient became a status symbol. It was not uncommon to see residents open their statements in front of others, arrogantly displaying feigned surprise at the exorbitant rate they were being charged.
The next step was to modify the weighting of each residential unit. If a building contained people of greater value, it was only appropriate that their vote should have more impact. A mathematical model demonstrated that this led to maximization of the well-being of the whole. Despite the fact that lip service was paid to the normal procedure, in reality a handful of buildings made the decisions.
The reforms to the regulations and perception of the estate were in the public domain. Anyone could find out about them. However, another, parallel movement also took place: underground and more expansive. Selon Perdumes called it “poetic mortgaging.” With his small initial capital, he was able to get his hands on several apartments, strategically placed throughout the estate. He negotiated directly with the owners. The tenants only discovered what was happening when they received a jubilant letter informing them of two things: first, Perdumes was the new owner of the apartment; second, their lives were about to change. For a modest deposit and absurdly low monthly repayments, they could buy the apartment and not have to go on throwing away money on rent. They didn’t have enough for the down payment? They could borrow that too. The letter was a textual version of Selon Perdumes’ alabaster smile.
There was a stampede of tenants wanting to take advantage of the opportunity. With the down payments, Perdumes bought more apartments, some of them also on credit. Given the number, he negotiated interest rates that were lower than he charged, and so he was able to pay off his loans with the radiant new owners’ monthly contributions. In time, a large portion of Villa Miserias was involved in the scheme. Selon Perdumes gloated. His role as an intermediary multiplied his fortune and, despite not being the outright owner of the apartments, he did possess something more valuable: the dreams of the residents of Villa Miserias.
8
There were two buildings that, for very different reasons, clearly stood out from the others. The reason for the conspicuousness of the first was grounded in the yearning for prosperity, which was producing increasing amounts of garbage. The truck picked it up every morning but, even so, a new accumulation was continuously piling up in the rusty containers. The residents of the building adjoining these containers were convinced they were unsanitary: the smell permeated everywhere, throughout the whole day. Not even the lowest interest rates could persuade anyone to buy those apartments. People considered it beneath their dignity to own something in what became known as Building B, and moved out at the first opportunity. Selon Perdumes decided to change his strategy.
At that time, Villa Miserias’ employees tended to live in distant, cheerless communities. They left their houses before the sun had risen and returned under the shelter of the clouded night skies. In addition, the employees often had to work overtime, to the extent that, on occasions, they would get home in time to have dinner, take a nap, and shower before setting out again. This situation was a headache for the administrative department of the estate. The lightest traffic jams caused the employees to arrive late; they were reluctant to work beyond their shift; they were constantly suffering nervous illnesses and their uniforms were always sweaty from being canned up in the public transportation. Selon Perdumes burst into a board meeting with a solution.
Building B was by then almost empty. Perdumes had been