Roberto Saviano - ZeroZeroZero

The guy sitting next to you on the train uses cocaine, he took it to get himself going this morning; or the driver of the bus youre taking home, he wants to put in some overtime without feeling the cramps in his neck. The people closest to you use coke. If its not your mother or father, if its not your brother, then its your son. And if your son doesnt use it, your boss does. Or your bosss secretary, but only on Saturdays, just for fun. And if your boss doesnt, his wife does, to let herself go. And if not his wife, then his loverhe gives her cocaine instead of earrings, in place of diamonds. And if they dont, the truck driver delivering tons of coffee to cafs around town does; he wouldnt be able to hack those long hours on the road without it. And if he doesnt, the nurse whos changing your grandfathers catheter does. Coke makes everything seem so much easier, even the night shift. And if she doesnt, the painter redoing your girlfriends room does; he was just curious at first but wound up deep in debt. The people who use cocaine are right here, right next to you. The police officer whos about to pull you over has been snorting for years, and everyone knows it, and they write anonymous letters to his chief hoping hell be suspended before he screws up big time. Or the surgeon whos just waking up and will soon operate on your aunt. Cocaine helps him cut open six people a day. Or your divorce lawyer. Or the judge presiding over your lawsuit; he doesnt consider it a vice, though, just a little boost, a way to get more out of life. The cashier who hands you the lottery ticket you hope is going to change your life. The carpenter whos installing the cabinets that cost you a months salary. Or the workman who came to put together the IKEA closet you couldnt figure out how to assemble on your own. If not him, then the manager of your condo building who is just about to buzz you. Or your electrician, the one whos in your bedroom right now, moving the outlets. The singer you are listening to to unwind, the parish priest youre going to talk to about finally getting confirmed because your grandsons getting baptized, and hes amazed youve put it off for so long. The waiters who will work the wedding youre going to next Saturday; they wouldnt be able to last on their feet all that time if they didnt. If not them, then the town councillor who just approved the new pedestrian zones, and who gets his coke free in exchange for favors. The parking lot attendant whos happy now only when hes high. The architect who renovated your vacation home, the mailman who just delivered your new ATM card. If not them, then the woman at the call center who asks How may I help you? in that shrill, happy voice, the same for every caller, thanks to the white powder. If not her, your professors research assistantcoke makes him nervous. Or the physiotherapist whos trying to get your knee working right. Coke makes him more sociable. The forward who just scored, spoiling the bet you were winning right up until the final minutes of the game. The prostitute you go to on your way home, when you just cant take it anymore and need to vent. She does it so she wont have to see whoever is on top or under or behind her anymore. The gigolo you treated yourself to for your fiftieth birthday. You did it together. Coke makes him feel really macho. The sparring partner you train with in the ring, to lose weight. And if he doesnt, your daughters riding instructor does, and so does your wifes psychologist. Your husbands best friend uses it, the one whos been hitting on you for years but whom youve never liked. And if he doesnt, then your school principal does. Along with the janitor. And the real estate agent, whos late, just when you finally managed to find time to see the apartment. The security guard uses it, the one who still combs his hair over his bald spot, even though guys all shave their heads these days. And if he doesnt, the notary you hope you never have to go back to, he does it to avoid thinking about the alimony he has to pay his ex-wives. And if he doesnt, the taxi driver does; he curses the traffic but then goes all happy again. If not him, the engineer you have to invite over for dinner because he might help you get a leg up in your career. The policeman whos giving you a ticket, sweating profusely even though its winter. The squeegee man with hollow eyes, who borrows money to buy it, or that kid stuffing flyers under windshield wipers, five at a time. The politician who promised you a commercial license, the one you and your family voted into office, and who is always nervous. The professor who failed you on your exam. Or the oncologist youre going to see; everybody says hes the best, so youre hoping he can save you. He feels omnipotent when he sniffs cocaine. Or the gynecologist who nearly forgets to throw away his cigarette before going in to examine your wife, who has just gone into labor. Your brother-in-law, whos never in a good mood, or your daughters boyfriend, who always is. If not them, then the fishmonger, who proudly displays a swordfish, or the gas station attendant who spills gas on your car. He sniffs to feel young again but cant even put the pump away correctly anymore. Or the family doctor youve known for years and who lets you cut the line because you always know just the right thing to give him at Christmas. The doorman of your building uses it, and if he doesnt, then your kids tutor does, your nephews piano teacher, the costume designer for the play youre going to see tonight, the vet who takes care of your cat. The mayor who invited you over for dinner recently. The contractor who built your house, the author whose book youve been reading before falling asleep, the anchorwoman on the evening news. But if, after you think about it, youre still convinced none of these people could possibly snort cocaine, youre either blind or youre lying. Or the one who uses it is you.