In her short existence of six years, Flavia, like Cristina, had developed extraordinary abilities.

She had learned not to care about seeming sensible, because if there was someone who had the right not to seem sensible, that was her. She had learned that true intelligence consists of being crazy enough to attempt the impossible, because even fools, if they put in some effort, are capable of succeeding in things that have already been proven possible.

She had learned to dance and she was not only good, but extraordinary.

She had learned to make friends. When she thought about it, it seemed even more astonishing than dancing.

Flavia had told herself: «I am a man, I am a man, I am Flavio Mancini, and I have learned to do these things that I considered impossible.»

And if she had succeeded, then — as much as the Universe had made her understand that it was fond of absurdity, exaggerated mockery, and tasteless jokes — Flavio had to succeed too. They were the same person after all, and by now Flavio was as adult as she had been when she had stopped being him and had started being her... and had started learning all those extraordinary things, those things that had given her the reputation of being a crazy and scatterbrained.

So she decided to drag Flavio to the disco and start teaching him something too. Claudia had tried too at her time, so she was not doing anything that would compromise the course of events, the temporal continuum and all that stuff from "Terminator" or "Back to the Future".

On the contrary, she had to take him there, if she really cared about altering Flavio's memories and Claudia's experience as little as possible.

But her plans were different from those that Claudia must have had. She needed a trusted man who would get Franco out of Cristina's way. That braggart did not deserve someone like her, Cristina deserved better than someone like him, and getting rid of Franco was one of Flavia's priorities. It would have very much reassured her about the fact that Flavio would not live something similar to the horrible experience that had led him to die.

Flavia had to ensure Flavio's survival for five more months or so and then she would regain her own life and her own virility, which didn't amount to much, she acknowledged, but they were what Flavia wanted most than anything else in the world.

She was determined to go back to being Flavio with a better image, an image way less clumsy than the one she was forced to contemplate helplessly every time she met him.

She had succeeded in impossible things and, if she put in some effort, she was sure she could get Flavio to seduce Cristina. No, she needed much more than some effort, but the limit of dreams, she considered, is a starry sky of immeasurable height.

So Flavia insisted a little — she didn't need to insist that much, of course — and convinced Flavio to go with her to Reflections.

«You have to come, it's my last time. With university and everything else I can't keep working there. I only have to be there for the opening of the evening and then we'll dedicate ourselves to each other,» she had told him.

He had misunderstood, no doubt about that. Flavia just wanted to make him gain some experience with people and make him loosen up a bit. No harm done, she thought. In a few months she would take Flavio's place and wear his pants. Properly, this time.

The time was late, unheard of for Flavio, but just to spend the evening with Flavia he would have gone out at any time. He arrived at Reflections earlier than Flavia had told him and so he made his way to the entrance, showing off all his shyness as he passed through the people immersed in a lively and frivolous chatter.

He couldn't see her, but he was there now, and awed by what he felt was an all alien environment, he went inside.

«Hey, you!» the security guy stopped him in astonishment.

"This must be the one who can read and write?" Flavio thought noticing the folder he had in his hand, "imagine the others..."

The bouncer stared at him with such disdain that he seemed offended. He hesitated for a second with the papers he was holding, but then he didn't even bother to ask Flavio if he was on the list.

«We're full,» he grunted before unceremoniously shoving him aside. Someone nearby failed to notice that the bouncer actually meant: "You can't come in here dressed like that." That someone was dead drunk.

«I'm a friend of a girl who works here, her name is Flavia...» he tried to explain.

The meathead's face twisted into something that couldn't decide whether to become a smile of scorn or a snarl of annoyance. «Sure, yeah... listen, don't mess with me, or you'll make me angry. I have things to do here.»

Flavio felt his blood freeze. He was about to stammer something, to ask him to do a reading exercise and try to see if he could find his name in the list folder and hoped that it wasn't just an accessory to show off a level of literacy that didn't match reality.

Before he could speak, he saw that Flavia, dressed in very few square centimeters of tight-fitting fabric, was coming towards him from inside the club.

«Hey, you were quick, what are you doing out here?» she said as she greeted him with a hug.

Flavio wavered in discomfort and Flavia looked at the bouncer with perplexity.

«Chicco, didn't he tell you I was waiting for him?»

The muscle, "Chicco", melted into an embarrassed smile. «Sorry, I didn't think...»

Flavia shook her head and snorted. «What a dummy you are» she scolded him and, at the same time, comforted him with a pat on the shoulder. «If you're tired, get someone to replace you, okay? Don't stay here if they've gotten on your nerves.»

«Yeah, you're right, thanks» he replied before calling someone on the walkie-talkie.

«Come on, let's go» Flavia led the way.

Pulled by the hand, Flavio followed her with his discomfort growing with every step.

«That guy... rather than tired, don't you think he's not that reasonable?»

«Of course he no be reasonable, if he be reasonable» Flavia mimicked blunt «at this stage of his life he be studying social sciences, instead he be stuck being bouncer, try to understand him...»

The music inside was deafening on Flavio's eardrums, almost as much as the grating of the conjugations being slaughtered. The main hall was full, as Chicco had notified, although not overcrowded. The system of colored lights coordinated with the music had its spectacularity and Flavio had the impression that those who were dancing, more than appreciating certain details, were just in a collective trance. All that glitter and that writhing in the dimness thickened the noise, turning it into a ball of chaos.

«Excuse me for a moment, I'm going to have a cigarette, you try to get comfortable in the meantime» Flavia shouted in his ear. «Look at that girl on the podium, so you can compare her with me.»

Flavio thought that the environment had something unreal and illusory. As the sound waves hammered his hearing, he began to feel that his sense of composure was being numbed.

He looked around and observed the people secluded at tables consuming their drinks, those at the bar jostling to be served. They were all overwhelmed by an uncanny and artificial euphoria, contrasting with the apathy of the service staff. Even the beautiful girl that Flavia had pointed out to him, and who without doubt moved well on the raised platform, had an indifferent and out of place expression.

Flavio noticed that no one seemed to notice that contrast, that no one seemed able to notice many things around them, and at that moment he couldn't help but cling to the sense of concreteness that the floor under his feet gave him. It was not a decision that depended on his will, it was rather an instinctive and visceral reflex, uncontrollable, not to let himself be clouded by the sensory overload that was assaulting him, by the grotesque overflow of the crafted emotions.

Flavia didn't come back and Flavio began to look around with restless eyes. But then the noise of the music faded until it went out. The girl on the platform gave way to a man in eccentric clothes, with an earpiece, a walkie-talkie at his waist, a microphone in his hand and a fake tan way too unusual for early September, especially in comparison to the summer and natural tans that most people could still show.

«So, sorry for the interruption» he said into the microphone, «I'll just take a few beats from your groove to greet Flavia, our vibe ambassador who has mixed with us for five years and has become a pillar here at Reflections.»

The man reached out his hand and Flavia climbed onto the platform, huddling next to him.

«Thank you, Renato. For me, you are the true pillar here!» she said into the microphone.

The two exchanged a hug in which it was hard to tell which of them was the man, then Renato turned to the hall again with the microphone at his mouth.

«Of course, it would have been so lit to have her jamming with us much more often than she has granted us... tonight she performs for us for the last time. I'll drop her to you so you can greet her with your warmth and your enthusiasm. Have a good evening everyone!»

The music resumed but no one in the hall started dancing again. The song was not at all danceable for just anyone. The rock piece, over twenty years old, had left everyone disoriented, including Flavio himself who, along with very few others in there, had recognized instantly in the roar of an engine the start of "Girls Girls Girls" by Mötley Crüe.

Flavia, with all eyes in the hall on her, was the only one dancing. Flavio thought that she must have prepared a choreography, because she had not wasted a second from the beginning of the song, and because her dance coordinated in an amazing way with the music.

Her style was nothing like the flaunted and vain femininity of the girl who had preceded her. She didn't dance to the rhythm of the music, rather she gave the impression of dancing inside the music, within the beats, having the song on her, of challenging it, dominating it until she subjugated it completely to her will, in a fight made of hypnotic gestures that kept everyone's mouth open.

She moved with an aggressive determination that molded itself on the rhythm marked by drums and electric guitar. She seemed to emanate her essence, like a source of energy that kept growing in intensity with every pulse. Interweaving with the insistent refrain of three repeated notes, she had managed to create a vortex of rising tension, and the more that vortex intensified, the more her figure as a girl disappeared to make room for the trails of movement that enveloped her.

When the highs of the final guitar solo arrived, it was clear that it would have been reductive to define her performance as a go-go girl's dance. Flavio would have said that at times she danced like a man, or at least with an absolute elegance, devoid of gender. Her gestures crossed the air like a shock, so full of strength, vigor and decision, that they would have shone performed by any dancer, man or woman that they were.

However, few would have been able to perform them as she had just done, and it was clear that the stunned crowd of the Reflections was aware of it when, as the music ended, everyone unleashed their enthusiasm and overwhelmed her with a deafening applause.