The mercenaries (private code 100 guilt and no gluten)

 

Some believe they know us. No. They know our distorted connotation. That is, interpreted in light of the first term that gave it meaning. We are effective. Self-trained to achieve goals. We are guerrillas in our own causes. They say we are disloyal, treacherous, that we sell ourselves. That we sell causes. People. Situations. Conflicts and their resolution, schemes and stratagems. Businesspeople too. All professions too, all actors, in all scenarios. Cross-cut the issue.

We inhabit countries, cities, places, houses and characters, we commercialize identities, we fill packages of files full of pixels, we have many names, they call us many names, we belong to nothing and no one.

In societies, we are shadows during the day, spots at night, we eat, sleep, exist, they say, they believe, but they do not know us. We take off our shadows at night, we embody the spot on the streets, dressed like almost everyone else. They can say nothing about us, except what each one of us is or would like to be, or believes we could become. They try to shame us with their personal shames. They dare to bump into us, to try to read our minds, when they look us in the eye. We do not succumb to lasers. Nor to lead. Nor to steel. We are almost virtual. They want to hire us, dismiss us, entrench us, marginalize us, and, as a last resort, annul us, as if we were merely an invention created at the end of a Saturday, on a whim, out of boredom, and even by omission, believing they can avoid responsibility. We live at risk, on the edge, we accept conventions, our own, of course.

They believe they recognize in us the capacity to survive the mortal, but after using us, they want to delete us. They use and abuse perennial conditions that they consider inert. They await the outcome of their case, to cause us the so-called blackout. We rebuild ourselves. We choose our own paths and causes. We do not sell ourselves. We buy the freedom to think and to align our destiny, or whatever you prefer to call the game. To life!

Cultural, military and social studies say that we are the second oldest profession in the world.

We keep quiet and, at times, ignore the designations and with them, the so-called opinions, uprooted. Those who do not know us will always have something to say about us. We are the mercenaries against the order that they want to establish, above our will and beyond our choice! We are effective, strategic and we do not seek funds! What we seek, and each of us does so in our own way, is to bring the lies to light and light the lights of the mud that is clouding humanity, in this kind of London smog, in which we walk. We are here. We will be impartial and wasteful in exposing the factories of lies. We do not trade in freedoms and rights. On the contrary, we will ensure that they are not lost amid contagious condescension and stinking social hypocrisy!