It is not strange that certain jobs require a good dose of courage to be carried out. It makes sense because if you don't have the cold blood to react in a situation of danger or need, the consequences can be catastrophic for both your life and that of others, such as the doctor who has to stop a bleeding or the guard interrupting a violent fight.

Courage is not an easily earned virtue.

If it were within everyone's reach, we would save ourselves a lot of trouble and we would probably also be able to improve our and others' standard of living.

On the other hand, however, even being too bold is not a good thing: acting instinctively without thinking about the consequences is a serious evil as much as standing still and doing nothing. In this case, courage is useless if you have no control. There will be a reason if they teach us the meaning of the word prudence from an early age.

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A chuckle escaped Riccardo, when the commander explained to him the reason for his umpteenth call in two weeks.

His was a thunderous voice, he screamed even when conversation was being made, he was probably so used to raising his voice that he could no longer change his tone. Everyone teased him a bit for that, but woe to be heard.

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Riccardo had returned to work with enthusiasm… perhaps even too much.

But the problems at work were very small compared to what he had begun to do on a daily basis.

Behaviors that were not part of his character had begun to emerge slowly: he had become much more bold and even reckless. When he drove he drove too fast and did not respect the road signs, or he crossed the pavement (almost pirouetting from one end to the other) with the intense traffic risking to end up under the wheels, already twice he had almost broken his neck in the try climbing trees just to get a closer look at crows.

Attitudes that were conspicuous in their eccentricity and stupidity, not adequate for those who then carried out a job like that of a firefighter. Not even there he had spared himself: one day, having to remove a swing that ended up on the roof of a house; he had put on a show by climbing on it. Luckily no civilian had seen him, because if they recorded him on their cell phones he would become the laughing stock of the internet and his department would be put to shame.

Colleagues did not understand this attitude from him, who had always had his head on his shoulders. At first they hadn't given us any weight, but the recent "exploits" had worried them and fearing that this behavior could worsen they had well thought of warning the commander. Riccardo, for his part; he thought he was still the good old good guy everyone loved… and he was in a way; but this very conviction did not make him aware of the change taking place in him.

When they tried to point out that he was exaggerating he only heard chatter, chatter and chatter. Words annoyed Riccardo's ears, he justified himself by saying that they were firefighters, risk was their job. But no one agreed with him, you became a firefighter to help others, not to receive praise or risk killing yourself.

The commander tried to emphasize as much as possible the urgency to ne professional, repeating the duties of a firefighter, the need to keep a cool head in that dangerous job and a lot of other things. Riccardo wanted to retort and say that it was all bullshit, but he was silent only because he did not want to carry on further a discussion that was boring him (and this thought was more important than the possibility of being able to lose his job).

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And having said this, Riccardo was dismissed.

For a couple of days, just to make sure he calmed down; they kept him in the barracks to deal mainly with paperwork.

That strange phase of Riccardo seemed to have passed, they all thought after seven days of tranquility.

Seeing him concentrated and quiet at his desk, they became convinced that the situation had stabilized and that they no longer needed to worry about it. In reality things were different, no one imagined that since the lecture he had been ruminating in silence ever since. Riccardo was not the type to hold a grudge, much less for trivial matters. In his head, anger and reason argued heatedly. To better understand how the man felt, we could imagine this "conversation" with the characters from the Disney movie "Inside Out": anger broke things and screamed at injustice, while reason struggled to make it understand that they were actually wrong. Only at the end of his work did Riccardo find peace of mind.

A hot meal, the company of the television and then finally the bed with the reassuring embrace of the blankets helped to make him forget the tornado of thoughts. It was easy for him, it's like clicking the light switch. But the effort remained ... and this turned into an increasingly heavy physical fatigue that exhausted him, as if he had run up and down without pause for a flight of stairs of five floors. Even if it hurt, he still didn't admit that all of this was connected.

He still didn't admit that there was a problem.

That his way of doing and working had changed.

That he, above all; was changing.

Yet the signs were there, it was his own bravado to prove it.

Forget steps crossing the street without caution ... but literally putting your hand on the fire, with the taste of curiosity to know what it felt like, it was not good. The inspiration had come to him while he was preparing the coffee, the blue flame had seemed more inviting than breakfast and then he had decided to find out what kind of sensation he felt, putting his palm on the stove.

He had been slightly scorched and hurt, but instead of make him realize the mistake, it had amused him. Every day he came up with new ideas about what it would be interesting to try, situations he didn't realize could endanger him. He was so caught up in testing limits that he had begun to neglect both himself and the rest of his life: he went out with friends less and less, did not enthusiastically pursue his hobbies, even limited travel to visit his parents. A child can be justified, as it does not yet know the seriousness of the risks he faces.

But an adult is not. An adult is aware of what is right or wrong, and if he decides to do bullshit it is it own fault. Common sense allows you to stay safe.

But did it matter so much? He thought. He was no longer afraid of anything.

The alarm went on without warning, the whole barracks vibrated under the call of a new emergency. He immediately answered the call even if officially he could not do it, apparently it was a situation that required the intervention of as many men as possible without discrimination.

****

In the center of Florence: a small hotel had caught fire.

The palace, a five floors "bed and breakfast" of iridescent red with dark blue painted windows, had become a sort of great torch that burned dangerously near San Lorenzo, a neighborhood known for its numerous leather shops and souvenir stalls and the famous food market. The stalls that were stationed in Piazza del Mercato Centrale had been hastily moved to allow fire trucks and ambulances to pass, so much so that goods had fallen on the ground, including handbags, scarves and even magnets.

The extent of the danger had immediately appeared serious, so much so that the help of several rescue units was required.

From the third floor columns of dense smoke emerged illuminated by the bright orange of the flames hidden among the streams, the upper floors were hidden by the black blanket and the adjacent buildings were slowly blackening. Fortunately, the sleeves of the pumps were very long, otherwise they would never have been able to approach the building that was stationed in a street too narrow to pass even by car, its uncomfortable position was an obstacle for the firefighters. Some were on the self-propelled platforms firing from there above the water, others carried out the evacuation instead ... but there were still people inside, the screams of those who were trapped almost overwhelmed the echo of the sirens.

And meanwhile, in the midst of that bedlam, Riccardo was calm. Too calm.

He came to think that all those people had no reason to get upset, they reminded him of those sheep that seem to faint when you give them a simple "Boh!" A piece of the loose frame of a window fell down, the thud seemed to alter his view of reality: was the fire looking at him menacingly? And were those horns that emerged from the top of the building? It couldn't be. The flames, dancing among the golden sparks and charred fragments, twisted together to form a kind of horned monster- a caricatured face of a devil, to be exact- roaring at him with its serpentine tongue.

Riccardo found it hard to believe his eyes.

It was a hallucination, it couldn't really be happening… but it was, and the worst part was that he was perfectly lucid. No one else, apart from him, saw that oddity.

His team was ordered to enter the palace to find any survivors. Then the devil, as if he had really heard them, opened his mouth wide open to let them in… or to eat them? Depending on how it was seen, such "invitation" should be refused. But the colleagues no, they couldn't. Whether it was fire or devil, they still had to throw themselves into the jaws of the killing fire without knowing what bad omen hung over their heads. And Riccardo could do nothing else to follow them.

The fifth floor had not yet fallen prey to the stake that, instead; it was raging below… but the floor was burning and smoke seeped through so many cracks, not to mention the impassable stairs that seemed to lead straight to hell. Everything inside there was ready collaps, but Riccardo was only thinking about how to save lives. The smoke masks were heavy and uncomfortable to wear, but at least they worked. Through the soot-soiled viewer the world appeared dull and foggy, even the sound of the sizzling of the flames and of the wood slowly turning to ash was muffled; as if your ears are plugged. But the heat felt the same through the insulating suit, the skin didn't burn but the sweat made it sticky.

Who knows, maybe it was precisely that combination of heat and stress that caused Riccardo the absurd hallucinations: ghosts made of moaning smoke, serpents of flames that rushed at his feet, the furniture that begged for help not to be burned ... what was happening to his head?

“It's not real… it's not real…” he was repeating it to himself like a mantra. But despite this, he couldn't ignore them and that wasn't going well at all, especially right now that he was in the middle of an emergency situation.

Desperate souls appeared in the warm mist, the skin was red and the eyes swollen with terror without tears. For a second he tought they were another illusion, but this time his colleagues saw them too. Survivors! What a miracle! Seeing them gave him a kind of adrenaline rush that chased away the illusion that his tired head was feeding him, just what he needed right now to act as a true rescuer. Like guardian angels they led them out to salvation, helding them in their arms because they no longer even had the strength to stand up, weak and fragile as old puppets.

One at a time they led them out, retracing the dangerous fire path.

Riccardo was satisfied and pleased with himself, despite the absurd apparitions he had managed to fulfill his duty. Mom and Dad would have been proud of him.

Suddenly a mocking laugh made itself heard distinct from the roars of the fire.

It rumbled between the weak walls like the thunder of an explosion, for a brief frightening moment the building seemed to collapse on him. He put his hands on his head in spite of the helmet, the floor beneath him swayed like the deck of a ship at the mercy of the waves and the fire, which until then he feared; now it was colored in all shades of pink.

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Riccardo was disoriented, who the hell was talking to him like that? Women? Men?

It was difficult to understand, the voices were distorted: either too high like when you inhale helium, or too deep like when you slow down a record or a tape of music.

The only sure fact was that he didn't like how they were addressing him, arrogant and mocking.

The invisible presences mocked him, making fun of him apparently meaningless. Had they been there in flesh and blood, he wouldn't have hesitated to fight back with a good dose of punches on the teeth and kicks in the ass. He tried to ignore them, determined not to let himself be influenced by anything but hallucinations ... but then they started to mention things about him: embarrassing memories, mistakes of his youth he had never confessed to anyone about, personal fantasies. Nobody could know certain private "matters" if not himself. A small surprise reaction was enough for these to tease him with more prowess. Everywhere inside the building, from the walls to the roof; hundreds and hundreds of mouths appeared, laughing at him. They told him so many ... but so many that they overlapped one on top of the other,

Riccardo begged them to stop. Why were they treating him like that? What had he done wrong to unleash such fury? He covered his ears, screamed ... kept repeating to himself that nothing was real. It was just words.

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At one point a voice, among the many that were stunning him; it stood out both for his clear and understandable tone and for what he said.

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He repeated the same words, making sure he spelled them out well.

Scared? Him?

How dare it imply that he was afraid?

He was not afraid at all and shouted it out loud to all those entities who were listening to him. Let no one dare to accuse him of the contrary! He, now, no longer feared anything! Him now; he was the bravest man in the world!

> the voice warned him.

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Somewhere in Riccardo's mind, something clicked.

Anger took over, the heart pumped the emotion throughout the body and every vein, artery and organ was contaminated with that toxin that clouded the reason.

He no longer felt hot, he was no longer worried about being crushed by the rubble… he grabbed an ax and repeatedly hit those damn mouths.

He tore them apart by the hundreds, cutting out tongues and cracking teeth; but even reduced to bloody shreds they continued to laugh and he was screaming like a madman telling them to stop.

Two colleagues witnessed his delirium, incredulous and speechless.

They had noticed his absence and turned back, even though the commander had warned them that it was dangerous. It was not a situation they were prepared for, but they certainly would not abandon him. When they saw him wriggling in the flames, hitting everything at random; they quickly realized that his situation was serious. Before they could catch him from behind, they had to avoid being cut by the ax. At the first opportunity they jumped on him and began to drag him out, although his constant kicks complicated the job. They called him and shook him, but he screamed out disconnected things. If they had taken off his mask, they would have been frightened at the sight of his wild, swollen, red eyes that were almost popping out of their sockets.

They heard the wooden gun over their heads, but they were not careful enough to sense the tragedy.

The wood fell like rain, a glowing cloud of debris usurped the corridor.

Of the three men, only one was able to get back on his feet: Riccardo had passed out on him, the other one instead was lying on the ground with a large stake stuck on his back. He couldn't see his face, it was hidden among the debris. He did not move, blood was leaking from the wound. It was dead. It was obvious. He called him anyway, convinced that there might still be a little hope. The crackle of a lump of coal brought him back to reality.

Suddenly the hope of seeing his friend move disappeared. He understood that he had to leave him there, to be buried underneath in an ash grave; if he wanted at least to save Riccardo. So he lifted his helpless colleague and one cautious step at a time, with tears evaporating from the heat, he stepped out of that trap. After about ten minutes that floor would collapse, the accident would not be forgotten anytime soon, especially by those who lived in the neighborhood.

A long investigation would then start and lasted for 3 years. Between theories, accusations and even leaks of important documents, everything would have ended without a trial and without answers. Meanwhile, in the present; they had to start doing many things: putting it back in place, returning to normality, starting to live again… all very difficult things to rebuild.

For Riccardo, especially him, the difficulty would have been double. For him, nothing would ever be the same again. It would have been much worse.