He exchanged a brand name watch to get the microprocessor; his brother left the motherboard behind when he left the country. All he lacks is the RAM memory to build the next Frankenstein, with which he’ll connect to the intranet set up by several young people in his building. Almost thirty, he’s been building his own computers for a decade, thanks to the black market in computer parts. At first they were real monstrosities, full of innovations, but over time his computers have become more presentable and competitive.
Now he’s building a new “creature” to start his own business copying DVDs so he can leave his boring job at a state agency. A complex video editing program allows him to advertise himself as a “specialist in filming weddings and quinceaneras,” a very well-paid informal occupation. Among the dreams he cherishes is getting on the Internet and finding a girlfriend in the chat rooms one who can get him out of here. He fantasizes her gift to him on their wedding day, a computer he doesn’t need to add a single screw to.
When it was announced that Raúl Castro would allow the sale of computers to Cubans, this alternative techie was happy he wouldn’t have to wait so long. But with the price of a laptop sold today in the stores in convertible pesos, he could acquire, informally, the parts to build at least three PCs. However his Frankenstein is missing the most important thing; the possibility of walking out of there and taking his first steps on the web. To make a being from a simple collection of circuits, you need the lightening of connectivity, the current of energy that will awaken him to life.