Álvaro de Laiglesia - "Commercial Spirit" (1953)

INTRODUCTION

Álvaro de Laiglesia (9 Sept 1922 - 1 Aug 1981) was a Spanish writer and humorist who had an incredibly prolific career, writing more than 40 novels from the 1940s to his death in 1981. "Commercial Spirit" was initially published in the July 25th, 1953 issue of ABC, then republished in the April 1954 issue of Los Cuentos Fantásticos (#45) and later republished in the short story anthology "Crying is prohibited" ("Se prohíbe llorar") (1963). This translation is composite of the version from "Crying is Prohibited" and the Los Cuentos Fantásticos text. The main difference between the two versions is that the nobility title of "viscount" was removed in the LCF version, and instead the figure referred to as "the owner of the house". Other differences have been pointed out in the text. Many thanks to Antonio from Proyecto F for supplying the LCF text.

COMMERCIAL SPIRIT

SOMEONE placed a cover over the only light bulb in the living room with a newspaper, and the dirty light that filtered through the printed paper was insufficient to see each other's noses. Which was something that we, those gathered around the table, were secretly glad about, because we must've looked like real fools. I then understood that darkness is not a measure adopted in spiritualist sessions to facilitate the capture of spirits, rather one to avoid the feeling of ridicule in those who take part in them. The spectacle of five very large men holding a very small table down with their fingertips would provoke such laughter during the gathering that it would ruin the experiment. Almost completely in shadow, however, the grotesque side of the scene is obscured, and one can even take a furtive nap while the Great Beyond keeps its appointment.

- "Silence!" we heard the host say, to stifle a giggle that escaped from time to time from one of the members of the group.

The little finger on my left hand was joined to the illustrious little finger of a magistrate, and on my right, to the fragile little finger of an industrialist. The remaining little fingers in the circle belonged to a professor and to the owner of the house, who had the title of viscount in high society. Another twenty minutes passed like this, with no happenings other than a few snores coming from the industrialist. A precise slap from the host, protected by the darkness, woke the culprit up. The wait was prolonged for another quarter of an hour and I began to notice a certain impatience in the adjoining little fingers.

- "No spirit is coming," the magistrate growled, drumming his fingers on the table.

- "It's natural that they're a little tardy," the viscount apologized. "The other world isn't right around the corner."

- "Maybe the spirits aren't working today," said the industrialist. "Since it's Saturday, maybe they're having an English week."

Contrary to his words, we noticed a strange tremor, which shook the table top.

- "It's already here!" exclaimed the host, starting off. And as master of the house, he prepared to do the honors to the visitor from beyond the grave. To do so, in his most resounding voice, he ordered: "If you are a spirit, manifest yourself."

The manifestation didn't hesitate in its appearance: the table suddenly rose to three hands distance from the ground and crashed into the magistrate's nose, making him bleed and look like a fool.

- "How beastly!" I shouted, unable to contain myself.

- "A little more respect for the dead, young man" - the viscount admonished me.

- "It must be the spirit of a porter," the magistrate grumbled, sucking the blood with the tip of his tongue, since he couldn't take his hands off the table and interrupt the psychic circuit.

- "Be quiet, you dandies!" the master of the house was angry. Then, raising his eyes to the ceiling, he addressed the spirit: "Do you want to tell us something?"

A rocking of the table, which almost crushed my foot, gave us the answer:

- "Yes."

- "Well, go ahead."

- "And hurry up, because we need a snack," added the professor, playing the fool so that the host would get the hint.

And through the crude alphabet of knocking (one knock, A; two, B; three, C...), the spirit transmitted its message to us. We all counted the oscillations from below, and at the end we sang the corresponding letters in chorus. Here is the first phrase that was composed:

"WHEN YOU WANT A COOKIE, MAKE IT A 'COQUETTE'."

Although we couldn't see each other, we looked at each other perplexed.

- "Unbelievable!" the magistrate said, his nose bleed instantly stopped with fright.

- "Is it possible that advertisements are also broadcasted in the afterlife?"

- "I don't think so," the industrialist said. "Besides, assuming that such a punishment exists, they'd advertise spiritual products that are manufactured in the Great Beyond, and not 'Coquette' cookies, which are sold at every store in the Great Here."

- "Maybe, instead of connecting with a spirit, we've connected with Radio Madrid" - the viscount thought, trying to find an explanation for this unusual event.[Translator's note: "Radio Mexico" in the LCF version.]

- "Impossible," I said. "You can hear a folk record in the background."

- "Let's ask the ghost to explain it to us," suggested the professor. Our ten little fingers rushed to the table, and we begged the invisible communicator to tell us something more. The unsteady little table began to move with the same speed as a transmission device operated by a telegrapher. Soon, the second sentence concluded, which produced just as much perplexity as the first:

"A CHUBBY GIRL LOOKING THIN IS NO HURDLE WITH MALACA GIRDLES."

- "It's enough to drive you crazy!" the host howled like a beast struck by lightning.

We couldn't believe our fingers. But without giving us time to come to any decision, the table continued to swing energetically, recommending that we buy "Cockatoo" raincoats, "Sweettongue" marmalade and "The Hoof" shoes. We serenely endured the storm of advertising, thanks to which we learned that "The Chubby Baby" condensed milk would raffle off a tricycle at the end of the month, and that "Paladin" cognac was willing to give away a helicopter to anyone brave enough to try it.

After finishing his surprising litany, the spirit fell silent. Us five spiritualists decided to interrogate him to find out the reasons for his unusual behavior. The conversation we started went off without a hitch, as he was an expert in talking to the living and handled the language of knocks with great ease. He answered our question clearly and without spelling mistakes:

- "I belong to the 'Posthumous' agency, which has the exclusive rights to publicity at every table on earth. It's a company recently founded to exploit the advertising possibilities of spiritualism. It's estimated that every day, two million people gather in different parts of the planet to listen to phantasms. This pastime, which began as a clandestine practice by a few audacious individuals, has become astonishingly popular. The number of aficionados, according to the latest statistics, is increasing by several thousand per month. This is largely due to the necessary reduction of entertainment in the family budget. As life becomes more expensive, many people cannot afford to attend pricey shows. That is why the six-tube 'radio' was so successful, and why the three-legged table is so successful now.[Translator's note: As in American vs British English regarding 'vacuum tube'/'valve', the technical word in Spanish is different in Mexican Spanish vs European Spanish and the word changes in the LCF version accordingly.] A spiritualist seance is a great way to have an interesting night without spending a cent.[Translator's note: Unit of currency changed from 'céntimo' to 'centavo' in LCF version.] There's no need to acquire a receiver to listen to the broadcasts, nor to use a single kilowatt of electricity. The only current used is psychic, not yet subject to the control of any meter. We don't charge anything for our work either, but that doesn't stop us from obediently responding as soon as we're called. Under these conditions, as you can understand, it's logical that we grow our audience with every session. And it's also logical that we intend to obtain some benefit by exploiting the advertising from a show that we offer completely free of charge. The 'Posthumous' agency was created for this purpose, and the advertisements I broadcast earlier are from our initial clients."

The spirit fell silent, a little tired from all the shaking of the table required to say all this.

- "But how do you manage to charge the trading houses for the advertising they commission?" - asked the industrialist, intrigued.

- "They pay it to our descendants on Earth. The advertisements I read, for example, are paid out to a great-great-grandson of mine. The poor man is loaded with children and this unexpected income has been a blessing for him. Thanks to me, he now lives comfortably, and he pays me back by praying a rosary for me on Sundays, or by having his parish offer masses for me.

- "How much do you charge for an advertisement?" the industrialist persisted, perhaps thinking of using the spiritual agency's services to promote his products.

- "It depends," the spirit tapped. "There's a wide range of prices. To say a phrase only once at a thousand different tables, we charge two hundred pesetas. For a small fee, the same advertisement can be translated into several languages and placed ​​on tables in various countries. We also contract entire sessions completely sponsored by a single firm, in which we incessantly repeat their most effective slogan. Apart from the number of insertions, the price is affected by the grade of spirits entrusted with transmitting the commercial message. If the advertiser wishes to have his advertisement broadcast by famous spirits, the fee increases in proportion to the celebrity of the broadcaster. The most costly spirit is that of Napoleon, who demands ten thousand pesetas for half a dozen mentions. It's expensive, I admit, but you have to take into account that he's the most sought-after spirit by all the world's spiritualist circles. And the effectiveness of an advertisement read by him is fantastic. Imagine the persuasive power of hearing the victor of so many battles, haranguing the public to acquire the acclaimed 'Pichuchi Shotguns'! Cleopatra, the beautiful girl who was antiquity's talk of the town, was hired exclusively by the 'Prettygorgeous' beauty cream. And Shakespeare has been made an offer, a very advantageous one, by the way, for the launch of a modern operetta entitled 'The Toasted Tights'." [Translator's note: 'The Spotted Birds.' in LCF version.]

- "What a shame!" the professor said indignantly. "At this rate, we'll see Cervantes writing 'serials' for the 'spirit listeners' soon."

- "It's natural," concluded our interlocutor from beyond the grave, "times are hard for everyone and spirits have to live too."