Mirek

It is summer 2002. The faded signs to his computer studio remain. But Mirek has long gone, following the American dream far, far away.

Opole
South-West Poland
1995

Mirek, the owner of a small computer software and network installation company in south-west Poland was going to change the world. Tall with short brown hair and a little fat around the waist ever since he had had his appendix removed, he detested the dust-ridden, post communist wasteland around him.

The walls of the tenement his computer 'studio' was housed in were covered in black spray paint graffiti and the words 'NAZI SKINS!'. But inside was a different world with sleek minimalist tones.

Mirek was shy speaking English and seemed somewhat devoid of personality - a total computer geek. A human capable of writing ingenious algorithms, but dull at a party. Behind his podgy, often expressionless face and glistening eyes was a cunning, clever and calculating machine. Also a deeply paranoid machine, where everyone was the enemy and trying to trick him. Was this what growing up under the communist regime and later becoming an entrepreneur post 1989 did to you?

He remained all day in the corner of his throne room, but never actually seemed to do anything or go anywhere. Where did all the money come from? What was going on? Hidden away under his desk on top of his computer was a plate with crumbs from his last meal.

Across the grey carpeted floor a black telescope goldfish with bulging, distended eyes swam lazily in its bowl. It matched the black wall unit the bowl rested on. A wall clock ticked over a low glass coffee table, near two black leather sofas. Here he would entertain his guests. Or rather victims.

In the adjoining room he had set up a pool table, where he played against his visitors after business had been done, using them to improve his skills, soaking up their techniques like a sponge, to eventually defeat them all one by one.

At the end of each day he would drive home to his apartment in his imported American Ford Taurus sedan, a massive, beautiful sleek machine. The colour a shade of gold. A huge beast that glided along bumpy roads when the most popular car was still the tiny Fiat 'Maluch'.

He hated his apartment block. Called it 'mrowisko' - ant colony in Polish. One day he would escape from all this. Leave this all behind to live in a McMansion in some sunny Chicago suburb.