News

THE GAME

Mil­lions of peo­ple are now play­ing it. Plenty are as des­per­ate and trau­ma­tised as the com­peti­tors in The Squid Game, but if you live in L’Hos­pi­talet de Llo­bre­gat or Santa Coloma or Sant Roc or La Mina your bat­tle for sur­vival has no en­ter­tain­ment value.

In fact, the game has al­ready started in your sleep, where you are hav­ing dreams of per­se­cu­tion and chronic fail­ure. Now you are out of bed early to take ad­van­tage of the cheap­est elec­tric­ity be­fore the costs jump at 8am. You are in a freez­ing win­ter kitchen, dressed in your thin but warmest puffer jacket. Of course the heat­ing can­not be put on. Don’t be ridicu­lous. Here is your rou­tine break­fast: pappy su­per­mar­ket bread and in­stant cof­fee with long life milk.

Soon you are stand­ing on a RENFE line 4 train from Man­resa head­ing away from Barcelona out to the in­dus­trial areas. Then, against the slow-ris­ing De­cem­ber dawn, you are one of the still bleary-eyed pas­sen­gers who get off at Sant Feliu. With the cold knif­ing into your ears even through your woollen beanie, you and a dozen oth­ers trudge along the rough peb­bles on the side of the tracks. This means you don’t need a valid ticket. You’ve saved one euro. Some­thing learned in this part of the game years ago. Of course, you could have been closer to your des­ti­na­tion if you’d got off at Cor­nella but some­times ticket in­spec­tors are there, as you found out to your cost: a 100-euro fine that made you cry when you got home.

Today has a new twist. You have a job in­ter­view. You don’t know the pay rate be­cause it wasn’t spec­i­fied in the ad. It never is any­more. Was it al­ways like that? The un­known. It has so many fin­gers around your throat. The day feels like it should al­ready be over but you have a half hour march past bland square box build­ings and fences. The air smells like a sewer but only when the breeze blows the wrong way.

Yes, the game is afoot. It is never not. You know there will be dif­fer­ent ver­sions of it to nav­i­gate. There is the one where you learn where the speed cam­eras are on all your local roads where you re­luc­tantly drive be­cause of the cost of petrol. An­other is using back roads with­out round­abouts be­cause your car is not reg­is­tered any more and the po­lice rou­tinely stop dri­vers to check. You can’t even drive it in Barcelona in the low emis­sions zone be­cause it’s too damn old.

The game is get­ting to the end of the month. The games within the game: self-hair­cuts, self-den­tistry, and self-de­nial: not eat­ing meat and never spend­ing on other travel out­side your area. And shop­ping for the cheap­est fruit and veg­eta­bles where you usu­ally end up buy­ing them from cor­ner shops. Sus­pi­ciously, there’s no coun­try of ori­gin label for their pro­duce.

The game is the guilt when every blue moon you buy a beer in a bar, just to re­mind your­self that you’re human. It’s know­ing that next month, next year can­not be any bet­ter. It is al­ways worse, so it al­ways will be. And there will be no Christ­mas for your child. That is the worst of it.

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