They took him because nothing destabilizes the intransigents more than a man in his most free state. At the Fifth Police Station, 3rd and 62nd in Playa, where the criminals take turns and a toilet is a painful illusion, Gorki plucks the strings of his rebelliousness. He is a weird guy, everyone notices it, even more weird in a society where the model of the “New Man” is the coloring book version of the idiot in the classroom.
Gorki concentrates the attraction that his critics do not have; he sings, sways, and shouts in his bloody rock lyrics what others mutter with fear. He has a room lined with egg cartons somebody gave him, because if we added up all the eggs he’s entitled to from the rationed market he would not have been able to wallpaper even a closet. He is accused of a crime from the script of the film “Minority Report,” charged under the euphemism of “pre-delinquent dangerousness.” Translated into the language of reality, it means they put you behind bars so you don’t commit the mischief that others see coming.
In the case of Gorki, the charge has been led by a delegate of the constituency with delusions of James Bond, a neighbor woman they “advised” to make the accusation, and by a community that avoids interceding for the “uncomfortable.” On Thursday he will have his preliminary hearing and only some clothes and toiletries brought by his father have managed to make it to him where they have him “guarded.” There is little chance of the defense lawyer convincing the strict prosecutor that Gorki’s long hair, his rock songs, and the noise of his guitar, are not more dangerous than the inertia, conformity and double standard in which everything is wrapped.
More details about the detention are here.