O firmamento sobre a metrópole, por Célio Turino

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The Sky Over the City

Reflections from a Fictional Reality

by Célio Turino

In the darkest alleys, where the wind whispers forgotten secrets and shadows dance like restless souls, the story of Escobar Lodaçal begins. His origin was a whispered rumor on a morning when the city was still dreaming of escaping itself. Enveloped in darkness, his biography intertwined the mystical and the abominable. His past was a deck of cards marked, a sword of spades stuck in a pile of false cards. The somber navigated a sea of ashes that consumed part of the hearts and minds of resentful people.

It started on the internet, as a whispered name by invisible lips, which soon became a sinister cry. He was no ordinary man; he could never be. Lodaçal was the embodiment of a subtle evil, a charlatan with an empty soul, a con artist who shaped destiny in the darkness that dwells in human hearts. A man who, by doing so many bad things, almost became a career as a faith healer of seedy souls. But he preferred a more practical path, after all, who needs church when you have the internet? Thus, the sullen character began his career in digital scams.

Not long out of adolescence, his nature was already etched on his soul. Under the command of a pseudopastor, he composed a gang with other workers of crime; their goal: to apply scams against humble bank customers. With the dexterity of a digital craftsman, he identified the suckers, which is how he still refers to his victims and followers. In the dawn of the Digital Age, Escobar Lodaçal chose his future victims from the most susceptible and fragile, mostly elderly people who barely knew how to use a computer mouse. The precision of his evil was surgical, there was no “Zap” yet, and he used email messages from the victims, enticing the gullible and desperate, or frightening the elderly with the specter of “dirty name” due to invented bills. It was a work of ants, true, but it yielded stolen pensions.

Everything started with a click, the digital ink of an email, a message without a face that crossed the lines of the unknown to reach the doomed. A simple click, and in a matter of minutes, savings evaporated. Through the hands of the gang, lives were drained, dreams were extinguished, and bank accounts dried up. The trick, apparently, was simple: Lodaçal would only indicate the emails of the most vulnerable, and the others would take care of the rest, extracting every penny from the victims. Lost in the digital fog, the elderly barely understood what had hit them. Savings dwindled in seconds, life savings accumulated for disease treatment, or even basic needs like rent, food, or electricity and water bills. Nothing escaped, not even widows and the dying, all in the name of a “business” without scruples. They wanted to enrich themselves by scamming. Escobar Lodaçal was a pioneer in digital scams, which now torment and misfortune so many people, via WhatsApp and fake phone calls.

Lodaçal’s crimes were just a rehearsal, a prelude to something greater. When the gang was discovered, most were arrested and put on trial. One, who had his sentence commuted by betraying his partners, the pastor of the church he attended, and the crime partners. Since then, Escobar Lodaçal has honed his career, which would slither through the darkest corners of the internet, like a vampire thirsty for savings and squeezing necks. Spectral voices and ghostly hands would give more blows with the precision of a macabre surgeon.

Instead of sealing the fate of the criminal, the police action and the sentence of justice revealed themselves to be only a temporary obstacle. Four years and a half, the judge sentenced. The time of punishment, like justice, was distorted by the cunning of those who master the art of manipulation. During eight years, the sentence dragged on like a corpse in putrefaction, until it expired. The prophet of evil rose from the ashes, now with a new face and profession: millionaire coach, seller of false dreams, preacher of a theology of prosperity that promises wealth only to those ruthless enough to follow him in his racket.

The rules of the election, those fragile barriers that should protect democracy, were mere details for him. Disrespecting them was a matter of principle, a kind of philosophy of life. The electoral justice, that blind and deaf guardian, remained silent while the luciferians approached their profane goal: dominating the city and, from the city, the country, as slaveowners of souls. The press, that mercantile, which can be bought and sold, echoed in the silence, complicity, and normalization of evil, who knows, even hoping that this horror show would become a reality show.

Lodaçal towered over the city like a shadow that knows no limits. It was almost time for the blow to be struck. Ashes covered the city as if nature itself sensed the evil that was to come. The scoundrel, opportunist, and vile, but also a reflection of a society that, so lost, prefers to follow a salesman of illusions rather than face the harsh reality. After all, as the old saying goes, now updated: “In a land of the blind, he who has one eye is a coach.”

 The fictional reality comes to an end.

Is the true tragedy figures like Escobar Lodaçal, or are they just reflections, catalysts?

The real horror lies in the souls of those who, trapped, are willing to hand over their destinies to monsters, as long as those monsters speak the language they want to hear. The characters of doom that appear from time to time are just the beginning, because the end, that, is already written on the dirty walls of ignorance and fear. There may also be a ray of sunlight to illuminate hearts and minds, producing a collective victory to prevent people from following the shadows and ashes. The time is murky, but the sun will shine again.

Célio Turino – historian and writer, walks around, sowing the ideas of living culture and good living.

The text does not necessarily represent the opinion of the Jornal GGN. Do you agree or have a different point of view? Send your article to [email protected]. The article will be published if it meets the criteria of the Jornal GGN.