TRUESIGHT

Rome, 2025

I'm sixteen and have a shitty name.
"Lilia, eat, you'll be late for school."
My mother hates it too, which is why she keeps making up even more embarrassing diminutives.
"Liliana, did you hear me?"
"I'm not deaf."
Pain in the ass, I add, without saying it out loud.

The message unfolds before my eyes. It’s all true. I can even hear the sound of the impact with reality. My hands are shaking and I feel like I’ve just gorged on dry sand and galloping anxiety. I swallow dryly and read the few lines on the paper. They are handwritten, in a clear, no-frills hand.

I remember the instructions from the note I found in the locker. For some reason, it’s like they’re tattooed on my mind.
“I’m supposed to… We’re supposed to get to the parking lot. But it’s right across from where we are.”
Emanuele looks up. “And we’re supposed to not fly.”

“Do you have an ID?”
The man at the front desk’s request makes the blood drain from my face.
I flick my hand to my pocket, but I already know: no, I don’t have one.
“I’m sorry, I don’t…”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” The man checks something on his computer, taps the keys a couple of times, and then turns around, opening a drawer. “You’ve already been registered. Here’s your ID, your colleague must have forgotten to return it to you.”

Emanuele can’t help but notice my reticence.
He raises his hands and takes a step back. “If you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine, Lilia. Tell me if you want me to do something or if you prefer me to leave.”
In the world of illusions I seem to have fallen into, all I can do is be honest. There is no other weapon than the truth in the face of the shadows that besiege me.

The coordinates in my father’s letter referred to Termini Station, a simple search on the internet was enough to find out. The rest seemed more complicated, but I trusted my instincts and thought I would understand what to do once I got there. And so it was.
“One, B, eighty-two.” I read on the sign with the station plan.

I have lived in so many places, I have taken on the most diverse appearances. Countless forms of life of which I retain the experience and the deepest memory. And yet, the human being surpasses them all. Even today, I wonder if I am capable of being human to the fullest. There is something in them, a contradiction perhaps apparent, a depth that continues to elude me. Like a magic to which I also want to belong.
«What are you thinking about?»
Lilia's voice shakes me from my reflections.

I wake up suddenly, in a panic. My heart is pounding and my mind is clouded by total darkness.
“Lilia, everything is fine. I’m here.”
I feel someone grab my hand and I’m shocked when I focus on Emanuele’s face. He’s sitting next to me, on the edge of the sofa. The blinds are up and the morning light filters through the curtains.
“What happened, we...?!”

“That’s why you’re different from everyone else.”
I don’t know what effect the words he just spoke have on me. My entire existence has been a constant replication of other people’s appearances.
For a long time, I didn’t even ask myself questions. I was nothing, I was everyone. What did it matter? I’ve changed since then, yet my identity still seems like a chimera to me.

I can’t believe I’m actually going to do this. I mean, crawl into a ventilation shaft in the building where my mother is supposed to work.
I feel a slight anxiety, but also a terrible determination. I’ve never felt so alive.

I take her away from that building soaked in death. Away from the predators that hunt her. I would like to drag her away from all this. Show her other worlds, where she would be safe. But I can't, there's no way to escape. Not yet.
Around us, people walk along the sidewalk, drink aperitifs sitting at tables, stop to admire the luxurious shop windows of the center.
They don't know what happens behind the veil of their reality.

The worst day of my life. There is no other way to describe it. What was the point of finding out that my father's death was a farce, when I lost my mother in front of my eyes? In the face of all this, having to knock on the door of the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, shouldn't be much.
But it is.

Since when have I not slept this well? Like, never. I had always imagined my first time to be catastrophic, to the point that I even thought about getting it over with the first guy who came along.
Instead, even if I'm a little sore, it was a dream. I stretch like a cat between the sheets and observe the wonderful frescoes that recall nature and the seascape.
Everything is so beautiful, but it only takes a moment to fall into panic.

I lead her to the small private port of Calipso. There are about ten boats moored next to which stand a few men dressed in black. Lilia holds on to my arm, in silence. The sea is calm as an oil slick and the horizon is little more than a line that blends into the night.
I wonder if I'm doing the right thing. Her words have remained burned into me.

I can't tell if I've ended up in heaven or hell. I've followed Calypso into her underworld, and as soon as I step through the archway to a raised platform, the music hits me like a wall of sound. I'm in the biggest disco I've ever seen.

Why did all these people start screaming? I look around but there is no sign of Emanuele.
I would go looking for him if I were not surrounded by psychopathic mutants and if I were not in an underground labyrinth that I know nothing about.

I don't remember how long it's been since this happened to me. I thought I had enough experience by now. But no, I overestimated my ability to control myself, to dominate the personalities that belong to each of my forms.

A sudden bang jolts me from my sleep. I don’t know what woke me, but the floor beneath me vibrates, and a dull sound, like metal bending, passes through the room. I leap to my feet, my heart pounding, and run for the door.

The air feels heavier as we run through the flooded corridors. The water slows us, but we can’t afford to stop. Every step is a challenge, and every sound of metal bending or something collapsing makes me jump. I force myself to look ahead, to focus on the next turn, the next goal. But inside me, everything is chaos.

The water rushing against the submarine’s hull is a constant whisper, as if the ocean itself wants to remind us that we are mere intruders in a realm that does not belong to us. Out there, there is nothing but emptiness—an abyss that could swallow us whole at any moment.