You’ll find that when police arrest someone for a long time, there are fewer and fewer confiscated weapons. In the past, ammunition, rifles and other items that had been lined up in improvised counters were seen as evidence of the effective work of the police forces and as evidence of the level of danger to detainees. In Aspaldion, however, barely. The material captured from the detainees is now mainly computerized, to the point of being almost comical in some cases. Here are the words from a newspaper that narrated one of the last arrests: “Les fueron confiscados varios lápices informáticos...”; “I know that I work in cibercafés”.

You'll renew my old saying that information is power. I'll give you the reason. Not only information, but also fiction. George Steiner, in his book The Idea of Europe, when defining Europe and contrasting it with the United States, considered one of the characteristics of the old continent to be a hobby of coffee shops – the facilities that cities provide for walking and two others that were the custom of putting the names of great thinkers on the streets – but I am now that the mold mentioned by Steiner for a frank coffee has changed: “I know that I operate in cybercafés”, the words of the interior minister Rubalcaba are very significant, and since I am one of those who use these cybercafes a lot, I am so impatient with this expansion and mutation of the list of suspicious tasks. For my Gulf, I can see the ghostly “a veces, oigo voces”, the “se sabe que operan en cibercafés”, the welcome to a world of ghosts or the whispered esoteric cry.

When someone is chasing us – the nightmare of the one who is in the bush – these days it is usually a fantasy for the writer: since we are often looking for readers and anxious, since we are a lucky spy, we would also like to be spied on – read. We like to fantasize that as we spy on our messages and our writings, someone reports to us with what they have read and heard. The writer amuses himself by imagining that he has already translated his work into Spanish, that this work has been done by the secret services, and that, believing that his poems are crucially written messages, they will be intensely trying to decipher those of the encryption department of the CNI.

Yes, yes... We were not born yesterday, we have realized that the future lies in the cyberworld and in the ambushes – in fact, it has always been in the hands of the ambushes. The New York Times has also reported on Obama’s outrage that Blackberry has been taken from him: the president of a serious empire can’t be sending gossip and emails. However, he has managed to become the first President of the United States to have a laptop in his office – rest assured, Barack: there will always be cybercafes... We owe it to

the development of the Internet to the rise of aliases, heteronyms and dishonest natures that seemed to be excluded. The development of the intimate diary in blogs has not been anything, just as the disappearance of the pudor has not been anything. I have a friend or other blog that has disappeared physically: If you know what I am, read my blog. Rimbaud’s “I am the other” has become obsolete: I am hypertext, we would say now.

Dear reader, I don't see you in the papers anymore. I know you read me on the screen: “He knows what opera in cibercafés...”. Biba, galleries of distorting mirrors.