Spirit in the sky (Keiino, piano version by Virginia Anton)


The hours I spent locked up in the living room were almost as long as those I spent in the trenches back in the 1910s. When I think it was a simple teenager the one who held me captive for so long...

"Shit, why is it taking them so long?..."

Sarah didn't have a good time either. As minutes passed and those minutes became hours and the help she expected didn't come, she became more and more nervous. I saw her taking her phone and making a call without looking away from me in any moment. Nor the gun.

"Gilbert. Sorry, G. It's Sarah. Sarah...eh...V. If you listen this at some point, I have England in my power. In Downing Street. I don't know how much time I have before they come for him, so...uh...if you can hurry..."

"I haven't seen such a disastrous planning since Agincourt" that was what I thought and that was what I said. Because it was becoming obvious that, though armed, she was still a child.

"You shut up! They will be here soon! I hope..."

"Look, girl, I admire you had the courage to get here, getting by my guards and putting a gun in my chest. There's people who have been trying for centuries. But there is no way you can win this."

"How arrogant! There are way more people out there who prefer to kick your butt than kiss it. But, of course, since you're all day in those posh neighborhoods, around the world and in Buckingham you don't see beyond the end of our nose, right? That's what you've done all your life. Child exploitation, sexism, homophobia, racism, poverty, religious intolerance...No one gave you the memo, did they? You do what you do and that's it.

"And what's 'what I do', may I know?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"What all you nations do, hang out with the rich, with those who flatter you and those who are like you! The ones who get up early in the morning to sustain you or risk their lives to get into the country and only ask for some understanding don't matter. My father became crippled for life after working in the construction sector since he was sixteen, building skyscrapers, luxury apartments, so you can boast like 'look how cosmopolitan I am and what a pretty London I have'. Did you ever go say thanks to him? Did you give him a check? To him, the ones who clean the sewers, who take you everywhere by car, the waiters in the conferences? No. And all those historians who lick your arse with exhibitions about your feats and those 'draw your nation' contests and all that shit, you pay all attention to them."

"How old are you?"

"Fifteen. I know, you're going to tell me I am too young to-"

"No" I interrupted her. "I was going to say if you were old enough to work, I could hire you to take care of my schedule. I can't believe my ears! Just so you know, miss Know-it-all, every year I give grants to the underprivileged, I collaborate in campaigns from non-governmental associations...

"Handouts!" she protested, interrupting me. "Everybody knows you have a estate like the monarchy, or even bigger! And since you don't work and I doubt you have something left of your loot from your pirate days, that money must have only come from one place! We only want what is ours!"

"Urgh! You are so wrong about everything that I don't even know where to start with!"

"But you can make assumptions like calling everyone who agrees with the One World Nation a murderer and potential tyrants, right?"

"You're pointing at me with a gun."

"I told you I won't shoot if you collaborate pacifically."

"An mere intimidation item, eh? I don't buy it. You did shoot Sealand's people."

"I already told you that was...! I-I don't know! Something must have gone wrong! Maybe they shot first and...!"

"I was there! I saw everything! I saw the corpses! I saw people who were only spending the day at home! I saw the video of my little brother scared, defenseless, before turning into dust!"

Involuntarily my voice broke.

"...He was just a child..."

She looked at me with surprise, then...I'm not sure, but I'd say ashamed. She didn't look at me to the face.

"...I've heard..."

She spoke so lowly I didn't understand what she said the first time she spoke. Then she repeated louder.

"I've heard you come out of the water, sprout like...mushrooms or something like that...You don't have a father or a mother, nor grandparents. Not really. I mean, like...you call each other 'brother' because that makes you feel more human. Less alone."

"Do you have any adopted siblings? Or are you adopted?"

"No. But my best friend does have an adoptive brother."

"And she loves him just like if they had the same blood, doesn't she?"

"Well, yes, but..." her expression relaxed, she even put the gun down. "But...seriously? Was he really your younger brother?"

"Yes...a platform which was abandoned by the end of War World II. One of my sons moved there and claimed sovereignty over the place. Sealand was born in there and..."

"Wait. Sons?"

"Yes, well, we...usually call the people who are born in our land our children. You, having been born here, are my daughter."

She wrinkled her nose.

"I'm not your daughter. I have nothing to do with you. And how do you know I...?"

"I've seen your birth. Yours and your ancestors. I've been there all your life. I have raised you."

"Big bullshit. You're crazy."

It was evident she didn't understand, and I resolved to make her understand.

"Give me your hand."

"Eh."

"Give it to me."

"Bollocks."

So I took it by force. She was about to yell something, but went still, confused. Her lips moved to pronounce a 'what' which died in her mouth. I saw the skin of her arms crawl.

Raindrops hitting the windows of a house. A steaming tea, which warms your bones—can you savor it, Sarah? you used to drink a lot of it with your grandmother when you used to go visit her to Brighton—. But there are also sun rays among the clouds. That's what my hair is made of. Names. Dickens, Shakespeare, Austen, Byron, Shelley, Tolkien, Christie. There are many others. Too many to mention, but you know them all. Chaplin, Lennon, Nelson, Carter, Atkinson, Darwin, Newton, McKellen, Ramsey, Blake, Banksy, Cook, Drake, Hitchcock, Bowie. Look into my eyes. They say I was born from the sea—you feel the cold of the water in your skin, I can feel it; you too must be hearing the breaking of the waves—, but in my eyes you will see the countryside. Those little stone houses in a green grass sea. The forests, Sarah. There are things hiding there. There is something everywhere for those who know where to look. You are still young, but the smell of a pint isn't unknown to you. When you get older perhaps you will know how good a beer tastes in a tavern after a long day of hard work...

Sarah removed the hand suddenly. She looked at me scared. I didn't want her to be. It wasn't my intention.

"What did you just do?" she asked in a whisper.

"That's part of what I am. I am the sum of the feelings, ideas and experiences of millions of people over the centuries. Including you. I am part of you and you are part of me."

She drew back. When she was scared Sarah looked like the child she actually was. She didn't speak to me again in a while.

"Don't you ever do that again. Did you hear me? If you ever..."

"What's the matter? Didn't you want to eliminate me? Then you must know what you are eliminating."

"They were right. You are monsters."

"Maybe we are. But what are you?" I approached to her now that her guard was down. "Destroying the inheritance of thousands of years."

"D-Don't get any closer!"

She didn't shoot even though the gun was pressed against my chest. I snatched it from her after a fight and I saw why.

It was a fake.

How stupid I am.

But that was the end of the farce. Now Sarah was nothing but a little girl who was forced to try to subdue me in a mano a mano fight, and I did have an advantage there. I have thousands of years of experience fighting behind me, much before guns were invented, I have fought with nothing but my fists. She simply had nothing to do against me. She tried to smash a vase China gave to me against my head but I grabbed her and immobilized her against the wall.

"And now what am I supposed to do with you?"

They knocked at the door, which made us both jump.

"Mr. England?" it was one of my bodyguards, Lance.

"Y-Yes?"

"Miss Belgium just called to tell you about an urgent country reunion. Should I confirm your attendance?" he spoke with caution. He knew I had isolated myself in my house, washing my hands of everything and everyone since Sealand died. He knew I spent the day talking to ethereal beings. I had broken one or two objects on purpose.

I glanced at Sarah. I saw her terrified. She had started to realize what she had just done. Her life had gone to hell right at the start.

"...Yes, please. Let me finished something and I will hear the details."

Lance wasn't heard again. I moved away from Sarah, opened the door and stayed there, holding it.

"I will distract them. If somebody asks, you came to make a delivery."

Sarah looked at me with her eyes wide open, not saying a thing.

"But..."

"Come on. You don't have much time."

She kept staring at me as she made her body work and walked with clumsy steps towards the exit.

I breathed deep and ran a hand through my hair.

That made me understand something: like Sarah, there was a lot of people the One World Nation Movement had manipulated, they had made them think it was us and the only us to blame for everything bad happening in their lives. They had to erase all that uncomfortable past to create a better future. I had seen that a lot of times before and it was happening again. Humanity simply doesn't learn. But it is not the fault of those who simply want things to change.

And that girl...

She had just left and I wished to see her again.

'I know, you're going to tell me I am too young to...'

She resembled Peter so much...