Multiversum Read Online Free PDF Page B

himself.
    In February 2004, more than ten years ago, his parents had decided to head up to the mountains for a long weekend. They were thinking about buying a holiday house, and they’d turned the house-hunting trip into a family weekend. Marco’s father, a former professional skier, had infected both his wife and his son with his passion for the slopes. They were expecting a weekend of magnificent freestyle descents and lavish dinners at the alpine hut, high atop the mountain.
    It was drizzling when they drove out of Milan. By the time they got to Piedmont, they were caught in a fully-fledged downpour. When they left the tollway and turned onto the local highway that would take them up into the mountains, the rain had stopped. The worst seemed to be over. But as they climbed higher, the weather got worse. A violent blizzard was lashing down onto the tight bends that ran up the mountain slopes. The gusting winds started to make their Jeep fishtail. Weighed down by snow, a tree had collapsed onto their windshield, pushing the car over the side of the cliff. Marco, shaken around in the back seat, never even knew how his father lost control of the vehicle. He’d only heard the crunch of impact. Then, silence.
    Marco’s life was never the same after that. His parents were killed instantly. He survived, miraculously, and was sent to live with his maternal grandparents. He stayed with them until he was nineteen. Then he decided to live on his own in the apartment on Viale Gran Sasso.
    For the first twenty years of his life, he’d dedicated himself entirely to the study of computers and electronics. He loved to take things apart and study their components, and he filled the house with mechanical devices. He could operate them from an array of remote controls scattered throughout every room. There was the green control, for doors and windows. There was the blue control, whose buttons were linked to the electric oven, the microwave, and the stove top. The yellow control governed the temperature inside the apartment. The red one, meanwhile, was designed to control the lighting system: a panel with changing colours in the bedroom; rows of blue neon bulbs in the living room to give a futuristic appearance to his ‘domain’, as he called it; and a vast array of tiny lightbulbs scattered throughout the apartment, transforming it into a sort of gigantic pinball machine. Marco was immensely proud of it.
    For the past ten years, his brain had been operating considerably faster than the average speed, which meant he was able to design and engineer increasingly sophisticated devices, from the controls he used at home to a diverse array of software. When it came to computer technology, he was a prodigy, a freak. Whatever problem his friends might have, Marco was the solution. As Alex always liked to say, he was ‘light-years ahead’.
    But the difference between the two of them was not confined to the five-year age gap between Alex and his friend. It was also their legs. Marco had left his at the bottom of that ravine.
    Marco’s electric wheelchair emerged from the bathroom and turned down the hallway, heading for what he dubbed the ‘engine room’.
    â€˜You’re looking good,’ he observed, turning his back on his friend. Alex was radiant.
    â€˜In a way, this is the best time of my life.’
    â€˜Do you want something to drink?’ Marco turned his head towards Alex, who was looking around the room. Every time he came into that apartment, the first thing he looked at was the photograph of his friend’s parents, happy and smiling on their wedding day.
    â€˜Yes, thanks.’
    Marco had a small red refrigerator, shaped like a Coke can, next to one of the three computers that occupied the table in the middle of the room. He pulled out a couple of cans and handed one to his friend.
    â€˜I need your help,’ said Alex, getting straight to the point.
    Marco smiled, and with one