The Friend’s Apartment was inside a townhouse. From the window of its Main Lounge I could see similar townhouses on the opposite side of the street. There were six of them in a row, and the front of each had been painted a slightly different color, to prevent a resident climbing the wrong steps and entering a neighbor’s house by mistake.
I made this observation aloud to Josie that day, forty minutes before we set off to see the portrait man, Mr Capaldi. She was lying on the leather sofa behind me, reading a paperback she’d taken down from the black bookshelves. The Sun’s pattern was falling across her raised knees, and she was so engrossed in her reading, she made only a vague noise in reply. I was pleased about this because earlier she’d been getting very tense with the waiting. She’d relaxed noticeably once I’d gone to stand at the triple window, knowing I’d alert her the moment the Father’s taxi drew up outside.
The Mother too had been getting tense, though whether on account of the coming meeting with Mr Capaldi or because of the Father’s imminent arrival, I couldn’t be certain. She’d left the Main Lounge some time before, and I could hear her voice from the next room on the phone. I could have listened to her words by putting my head to the wall, and I even considered doing so, given the possibility she was talking to Mr Capaldi. But I thought this might make Josie even more anxious, and in any case, it occurred to me the Mother was more likely to be speaking to the Father to give street directions.
Once I’d understood Josie was depending on me to look out for the Father’s taxi, I put aside plans to learn further the Friend’s Apartment and concentrated on the view from the triple window. I didn’t mind this, particularly since there was always the chance the Cootings Machine would go by, and even if I couldn’t very well chase after it, such a sighting would be an important step forward.
But by then I’d come to accept that the chances of the Cootings Machine passing the Friend’s Apartment were slight. Earlier, during our drive into the city, I’d become overly hopeful because, while still on the outskirts, we’d passed numerous overhaul men, and even when the men weren’t to be seen, their barriers were there closing off one street or another. That was when I’d begun to think the Cootings Machine would appear at any moment. But though I kept looking from my side window, and though twice we passed other kinds of machines, it never appeared. Then the traffic became slower and there were fewer overhaul men. The Mother and Miss Helen, in the front, were talking to one another in their usual relaxed way, while beside me in the back, Josie and Rick pointed things out to each other in soft voices. Sometimes one would nudge the other as we passed something, and they’d laugh together, even though no words had been exchanged. We passed a pink blossoming park, then a building with a sign that said ‘No Standing Except Trucks’, and in the front Miss Helen and the Mother were also laughing, though both had caution in their voices. ‘Just be strict with him, Chrissie,’ Miss Helen said. Next came Chinese signs, and bicycles chained to posts, then it began to rain – though the Sun kept trying his best – and umbrella couples appeared and tourists with magazines over their heads, and I saw an AF hurrying for shelter beside his teenager. ‘Rick, that’s ridiculous,’ Josie said about something and giggled. The rain stopped as we came into a street with buildings so tall the sidewalks on both sides were in shadow, and there were undershirt men sitting on their front steps talking and watching us go by. ‘Really, Chrissie, please drop us off anywhere,’ Miss Helen was saying. ‘We’ve already taken you much too far out of your way.’ I saw two gray buildings side by side that weren’t the same height, and someone had made a cartoon painting on the wall of the taller building where it stood above its neighbor, perhaps to make their discrepancy less awkward. My mind filled with happiness each time I saw a Tow-Away Zone sign though these were slightly different to the ones outside our store. Josie leaned forward and made a humorous remark and both adults laughed. ‘We’ll see you both tomorrow then at the sushi place,’ the Mother said to Miss Helen. ‘It’s right next to the theater. You can’t miss it.’ And Miss Helen said, ‘Thank you, Chrissie, I know it’ll help me greatly. It will help Rick too.’ We drove through a fountain square, then a park filled with leaves where I spotted two more AFs, then into a busy street with high buildings.
‘He’s late,’ Josie said from the sofa, and I heard the dull thump of her paperback falling onto the rug. ‘But I guess that’s not unusual.’
I realized she was trying to make a joke of it, so laughed and said: ‘But I’m sure he’s very anxious to see Josie again. You must remember how slowly the traffic moved when we were coming here. The same is probably happening to him now.’
‘Dad never gets places on time. And after Mom promised to pay for his taxi. Okay. I’m going to forget everything about him for a while. Definitely doesn’t deserve fussing over.’
As she reached down for her fallen paperback, I turned again to the triple window. The view of the street from the Friend’s Apartment was quite different to the one from the store. Taxis were rare, but other kinds of cars – in every size, shape and color – went by quickly, coming to a stop at the far left of my view, where a long-arm traffic signal hung over the street. There were fewer runners and tourists here, but more headset walkers – and more pedal cyclists, some carrying items in one hand while steering with the other. Once, not long after Josie’s remark about the Father’s lateness, a cyclist went by holding under his arm a large board shaped like a flattened bird, and I feared the wind would catch the board and make him lose balance. But he was skillful and darted around the cars till he was at the front, right under the hanging traffic signal.
The Mother’s voice in the next room had grown anxious, and I knew Josie could hear it, but when I glanced around, she appeared still to be engrossed in her paperback. A dog lead woman went past, then a station wagon with ‘Gio’s Coffee Shop Deli’ on its side. Then a taxi slowed down directly outside. The Main Lounge was higher than the sidewalk, so I couldn’t see into the interior of the taxi, but the Mother’s voice stopped, and I was certain this was the Father arriving.
‘Josie, here he is.’
At first she went on reading. Then she took a deep breath, sat up and let the book fall to the rug again. ‘Bet you think he’s a dork,’ she said. ‘Some people think he’s a dork. But actually he’s super-smart. You have to give him a chance.’
I saw a tall but stooping figure in a gray raincoat emerge from the taxi holding a paper bag. He looked uncertainly up at our townhouse, and I supposed that he was confused as to which one it was, those on our side being as similar as those on the other. He kept holding the paper bag carefully, the way people carry a small dog too tired to walk. He chose the correct steps, and might even have seen me, though I’d moved back into the room once I’d given Josie my warning. I thought the Mother would now come back into the Main Lounge, and her footsteps sounded, but she remained out in the hall. For what seemed a long time, Josie and I – and the Mother in the hall – waited in silence. Then the bell rang and we heard again the Mother’s footsteps, then their voices.
They were speaking to one another softly. The door between the hall and the Main Lounge was partly open, and Josie and I – both standing in the center of the room – watched carefully for signs. Then the Father came in, no longer in his raincoat, but still holding his paper bag in both hands. He had on a fairly high-rank office jacket, but under it a tired brown sweater that came up to his chin.
‘Hey, Josie! My favorite wild animal!’
He clearly wished to greet Josie with an embrace, and looked around for somewhere to put down the paper bag, but Josie stepped forward and placed her arms around him, paper bag and all. As he received her embrace, his gaze wandered around the room and fell on me. Then he looked away and closed his eyes, letting his cheek rest against the top of her head. They stayed like that for a time, keeping very still, not even rocking slowly the way the Mother and Josie did sometimes during their morning farewells.
The Mother was equally still, standing a little way behind, a black bookshelf at each shoulder, her face unsmiling as she watched. The embrace continued, and when I glanced again at the Mother, that whole section of the room had become partitioned, her narrowed eyes repeated in box after box, and in some boxes the eyes were watching Josie and the Father, while in others they were looking at me.
At last they loosened their embrace, and the Father smiled and raised the paper bag higher, as though it were in need of oxygen.
‘Here, animal,’ he said to Josie. ‘Brought you my latest little creation.’
He passed the bag to Josie, holding its bottom till she was doing the same, and they sat down side by side on the sofa to peer inside it. Rather than remove the item from the bag, Josie tore the paper away at the sides to reveal a small, rough-looking circular mirror mounted on a tiny stand. She held it on her knee and said: ‘So what’s this, Dad? For doing make-up?’
‘If you want. But you’re not looking at it. Take another look.’
‘Wow! That’s sensational. What’s going on?’
‘Isn’t it strange how we all tolerate it? All these mirrors that show you the wrong way round? This one shows you the way you really look. No heavier than the average compact.’
‘That’s brilliant! Did you invent this?’
‘I’d like to claim it, but the real credit goes to my friend Benjamin, one of the other guys in the community. He came up with the idea, but he didn’t know quite how to pull it off in real-world terms. So I did that part. Fresh out the oven, only last week. What do you think, Josie?’
‘Wow, it’s a masterpiece. I’m going to be checking my face in public the whole time now. Thanks! You’re such a genius. Does this thing run on batteries?’
For the next few moments the Father and Josie went on talking about the mirror, breaking off to exchange jokey greetings as if they were only meeting for the first time at that moment. Their shoulders were touching, and as they talked they often pressed further into one another. I remained standing in the middle of the room, the Father sometimes glancing towards me, and I thought at any moment Josie would introduce us. But the Father’s arrival had made her excited, she continued to talk rapidly to him, and soon the Father ceased glancing my way.
‘My new physics tutor, Dad, I bet he doesn’t know even half what you do. And he’s weird. If he wasn’t mega-accredited, I’d be like, Mom, we have to get this guy arrested. No, no, don’t panic, he isn’t improper. It’s just so obvious he’s fixing something in his shed, you know, to blow us all up. Hey, how’s the knee?’
‘Oh, much better, thanks. In fact it’s just fine.’
‘You remember that cookie you had the last time we went out? The one that looked like the president of China?’
Even though Josie’s speech was fast and seamless, I could tell she was testing her words in her mind before speaking them. Then the Mother – who’d gone out into the hall – came back wearing her coat, and she was also holding up in the air Josie’s thicker jacket. Cutting straight into the talk between Josie and the Father, she said:
‘Paul, come on. You haven’t said hello to Klara. This here’s Klara.’
The Father and Josie fell silent, both looking at me. Then the Father said: ‘Klara. Hello.’ The smile he’d had since entering the apartment had vanished.
‘Hate to rush you guys,’ the Mother said. ‘But you got here late, Paul. We have an appointment to keep.’
The Father’s smile returned, but there was now anger in his eyes. ‘I haven’t seen my daughter in nearly three months and I don’t get to talk with her for five minutes?’
‘Paul, it’s you who insisted on coming with us today.’
‘I think I have a right to come, Chrissie.’
‘No one’s denying that. But you don’t make us late.’
‘Is this guy so busy…’
‘Don’t make us late, Paul. And you behave while we’re there.’
The Father looked at Josie and shrugged. ‘See, in trouble already,’ he said and laughed. ‘Come on then, animal, we’d better get going.’
‘Paul,’ the Mother said, ‘you haven’t spoken to Klara.’
‘I just said hello.’
‘Come on. Speak to her some more.’
‘Part of the family. Is that what you’re saying?’
The Mother stared at him, then seemed to change her mind about something and shook Josie’s jacket in the air.
‘Come on, honey. We need to go.’
While we were waiting outside for the Mother’s car, the Father – wearing his raincoat again – stood with his arm around Josie. They were at the front edge of the sidewalk while I stood further back, almost at the townhouse’s railings, the pedestrians passing between us. Because of our positions and the unusual outdoor acoustics, I had difficulty hearing their words. At one point the Father turned towards me, but continued speaking to Josie even as his eyes examined me. Then a black-skinned lady with large earrings passed between us, and when she’d gone, the Father’s back was turned once more.
When the Mother’s car arrived, Josie and I got into the back, and as we set off, I tried to catch her eye, to give reassurance in case she was anxious about posing for her portrait. But she was looking out of the window on her own side and didn’t turn my way.
The Mother’s car made slow progress, leaving one traffic line only to get held up in another. We passed shuttered doorways and buildings with crossed-out windows. It began to rain again, the umbrella couples appeared and the dog lead people moved in a hurry. Once there appeared on my side – close enough that I might have touched it had I lowered my window – a soaked wall covered in angry cartoon writing.
‘It’s not so bad,’ the Mother was saying to the Father. ‘There aren’t enough of us. Budget per campaign’s down almost forty percent. We’re in chronic conflict with the PR people. But otherwise, yes. It’s fine.’
‘Steven still making his presence felt?’
‘Certainly is. Same congenial figure he always was.’
‘You know, Chrissie. I really do wonder if it’s worth it. You hanging on this way.’
‘I’m not sure I understand. What is it I’m hanging onto?’
‘Goodwins. Your law department. This whole…world of work. Your every waking moment determined by some contract you once signed.’
‘Please let’s not go over this again. I’m sorry about what happened to you, Paul. I’m sorry and I’m still angry. But I keep hanging on, as you put it, because on the day I stop, Josie’s world, my world, would collapse.’
‘Why are you so sure of that, Chrissie? Look, it’s a big step, I know. I’m only suggesting you think about it further. Try viewing things from a fresh perspective.’
‘Fresh perspective? Come on, Paul. Don’t start claiming you’re happy about the way it turned out. All that talent. All that experience.’
‘Honestly? I think the substitutions were the best thing that happened to me. I’m well out of it.’
‘How can you say that? You were top-flight. Unique knowledge, specialist skills. How is it right no one can make use of you?’
‘Chrissie, I have to tell you, you’re much more bitter about it than I am. The substitutions made me take a completely fresh look at the world, and I really believe they helped me to distinguish what’s important from what isn’t. And where I live now, there are many fine people who feel exactly the same way. They all came down the same road, some with careers far grander than mine. And we all of us agree, and I honestly believe we’re not kidding ourselves. We’re better off than we were back then.’
‘Really? Everyone thinks that? Even that friend of yours, the one who was the judge in Milwaukee?’
‘I’m not saying it’s always easy. We all have our bad days. But compared to what we had before, we feel like…we’re really living for the first time.’
‘That’s good to hear from an ex-husband.’
‘Sorry. Look, never mind this. I have some questions. About this portrait.’
‘Not now, Paul. Not here.’
‘Hmm. Okay.’
‘Hey, Dad,’ Josie called out beside me. ‘You go ahead and ask what you want. I’m not listening.’
‘Like hell you’re not listening,’ the Father said and laughed.
‘No more arguments about the portrait, Paul,’ the Mother said. ‘You owe me that.’
‘I owe you? I don’t quite see why I owe you anything, Chrissie.’
‘Not now, Paul.’
It was just then I realized that the Tow-Away Zone sign we were passing was the very one I knew so well, and in that same instant, the RPO Building appeared on Josie’s side, and the familiar taxis were all around us. But when I turned with excitement towards our store, I could see something was not correct.
Of course I’d never seen the store from the street, but even so, there were no AFs and no Striped Sofa in the window. Instead there was a display of colored bottles and a sign saying ‘Recessed Lighting’. I turned right around to continue looking just as Josie said:
‘Hey, Klara, you know where we are?’
‘Yes, of course.’ But we were already beyond the pedestrian crossing, and I hadn’t even looked to see if the birds were perched up on the traffic signal. In fact I’d been so startled by the store’s new appearance, I’d not observed the surroundings nearly as much as I’d have liked. And then we were in a different section of the street altogether, and I turned again to see, through the rear windshield, the RPO Building growing smaller.
‘You know what I think?’ There was concern in Josie’s voice. ‘I think maybe your old store’s moved on.’
‘Yes. Perhaps.’
But I had no more time to think about the store, for what I saw next – between the two front seats – was the Cootings Machine. I recognized it before we were close enough to see the name on its body. There it was, throwing out Pollution from three funnels the way it had always done. I knew I should feel anger, but coming on it after the surprise about the store, I felt something almost like kindness towards the terrible machine. Then we’d passed it, the Mother and the Father continuing to speak with tension, and Josie said beside me: ‘These stores, the way they keep changing. That day I came looking for you, that’s what I was afraid of. That the store would have gone, you and all your friends with it.’
I smiled at her, but didn’t say anything. In the front the adults’ voices grew louder.
‘Look, Paul, we’ve been over and over this. Josie, Klara and I are going in there and we’re proceeding just as planned. You agreed to it, remember?’
‘I agreed to it, but I can still comment, can’t I?’
‘Not here you can’t! Not now and not in this goddam car!’
Josie, all this time, had been saying something to me, but she’d become distracted. Now, as the adults fell silent, she said: ‘If you want, Klara, we can go look for it tomorrow provided we’ve time.’
I almost thought she meant the Cootings Machine, then realized she was referring to whatever new premises Manager and the other AFs might have gone to. I thought she was being hasty in assuming they’d definitely moved, simply because the window had looked different, and was about to say so, when she leaned forward to the adults.
‘Mom? Just if there’s time tomorrow? Klara wants to go find out what’s happened to her old store. Could we do that?’
‘If you want, honey. That was the deal. Today we go and see Mr Capaldi and you do what he asks. Tomorrow we do what you want.’
The Father shook his head and turned to his own window, but because Josie was sitting directly behind him, she didn’t see his expression.
‘Don’t worry, Klara.’ She reached over to touch my arm. ‘We’ll find it tomorrow.’
The Mother steered the car off the street into a small yard enclosed by wire mesh. There was an anti-parking sign fixed to a fence, but she stopped the car facing it beside the only other car present. When we got out, the ground was hard and cracked in many places. Josie began her cautious walk beside the Father towards a brick building overlooking the yard, and perhaps because of the uneven ground, the Father took her arm. The Mother, standing at the car, watched this and didn’t move for a moment. Then to my surprise, she came up to me and took my own arm, and we began to walk together, as though in imitation of the Father and Josie.
There were no other adjoining buildings to either side, and I designated it a building rather than a house because the brickwork was unpainted and dark fire escapes rose up in zigzags. There were five stories ending at a flat rooftop, and I had the impression the reason there were no neighbor buildings was because something unfortunate had happened, and they’d had to be cleared away by the overhaul men. As I stepped over the cracks, the Mother leaned closer towards me.
‘Klara,’ she said quietly. ‘Remember. Mr Capaldi will want to ask you some questions. In fact, he may have quite a few. You just answer them. Okay, honey?’
It was the first time she’d called me ‘honey’. I replied, ‘Yes, of course,’ and then the brick building was there before us, and I saw that each window had within it a graph-paper pattern.
There was a door at ground level beside two trash cans, and when Josie and the Father reached it, they turned and waited, as though it was up to the Mother to lead us in. Seeing this, she let go of me and went up to the door by herself. She stood there quite still for a moment, then pressed the door button.
‘Henry,’ she said into the wall speaker. ‘We’re here.’
The interior of Mr Capaldi’s house was nothing like its outside. In his Main Room the floors were almost the same shade of white as his huge walls. Powerful spotlights fixed to the ceiling shone down on us, making it hard to look up without being dazzled. There was very little furniture for such a large space: one large black sofa, and in front of it, a low table on which Mr Capaldi had laid out two cameras and their lenses. The low table, like the Glass Display Trolley in our store, had wheels to allow it to move smoothly across the floor.
‘Henry, we don’t want Josie getting tired,’ the Mother was saying. ‘Maybe we can get started?’
‘Of course.’ Mr Capaldi waved towards the far corner, where two charts were fixed side by side to the wall. I could see, on each chart, many ruled lines criss-crossing at various angles. A light metal chair had been left in front of the charts, and also a tripod-stand lamp. Just now the tripod-stand lamp wasn’t switched on, and the far corner looked dark and lonely. Josie and the Mother gazed towards it apprehensively, then Mr Capaldi, perhaps noticing, touched something on the low table and the tripod-stand lamp came to life, brightly illuminating the entire corner, but creating new shadows.
‘This will be totally relaxed,’ Mr Capaldi said. He had a balding head, and a beard that almost hid his mouth. I estimated fifty-two years old. His face was constantly on the brink of smiling. ‘Nothing strenuous. So if Josie’s ready, let’s maybe get started. Josie, if you’d care to come this way?’
‘Henry, wait,’ the Mother said, her voice echoing in the space. ‘I was hoping to see the portrait first. What you’ve done so far.’
‘Of course,’ Mr Capaldi said. ‘Though you must understand, it’s still work in progress. And it’s not always easy for a layperson to understand the way these things slowly take shape.’
‘I’d like to take a look all the same.’
‘I’ll take you up. In fact, Chrissie, you know you don’t need my permission. You’re the boss here.’
‘It’s kind of scary,’ Josie said, ‘but I’d like to take a peek too.’
‘Uh uh, honey. I promised Mr Capaldi you wouldn’t see anything yet.’
‘I tend to agree,’ Mr Capaldi said. ‘If you don’t mind, Josie. In my experience, if the subject sees a portrait too early, things get messy. I need you to remain totally unselfconscious.’
‘Unselfconscious about what exactly?’ the Father asked, his voice loud and echoing. He’d kept on his raincoat, even though Mr Capaldi had twice invited him to hang it on one of the pegs inside the entrance. He had now drifted towards the charts and was studying them with a frown.
‘What I mean, Paul, is that if the subject, in this case Josie, becomes too self-conscious, she may start posing unnaturally. That’s all I was meaning.’
The Father kept staring at the wall charts. Then he shook his head in the same way he had in the car.
‘Henry?’ the Mother said. ‘May I go now to your studio? See what you’ve been doing?’
‘Of course. Follow me.’
Mr Capaldi led the Mother over to a metal staircase rising to a balcony. I watched their ascending feet through the gaps between the steps. Arriving on the balcony, Mr Capaldi pressed a keypad beside a purple door, there was a short hum, and they both went in.
The Purple Door closed behind them, and I went to the black sofa where Josie was sitting. I wanted to make a humorous remark to relax her, but the Father spoke first from the illuminated corner.
‘I guess the idea, animal, is that you get photographed over and over in front of these charts.’ He stepped in closer. ‘See this. Measurements marked along every line.’
‘You know, Dad,’ Josie said. ‘Mom told us you were cool about coming today. But maybe it wasn’t such a great idea. We could have met up somewhere else. Done something different.’
‘Don’t worry, we’ll do something else later. Something better than this.’ Then he turned and smiled at her gently. ‘This portrait. Let’s say it gets finished. What bothers me is that I won’t get to have it with me. Because your mom will want it with her.’
‘You could come see it any time,’ Josie said. ‘It could be like your excuse. To come more often.’
‘Look, Josie, I’m sorry. The way everything’s turned out. I wish I could be with you more. A lot more.’
‘That’s okay, Dad. It’s all working out now. Hey, Klara. What do you think of my dad here? Not such a crazy, huh?’
‘It’s been a great pleasure to meet Mr Paul.’
The Father went on looking at the charts as though I hadn’t spoken, making a pointing gesture towards a detail. When at last he turned to face me, his eyes had lost their smiling folds.
‘Pleasure to meet you too, Klara,’ he said. Then he looked at Josie. ‘Tell you what, animal. Let’s get done with all of this quickly. Then just the two of us, we can go somewhere, get something to eat. There’s a place I’m thinking you’d like.’
‘Yeah, sure. If that’s okay with Mom and Klara.’
She turned to look over her shoulder, and just at that moment, up on the balcony, the Purple Door opened and Mr Capaldi came out. He called back into his studio through the doorway:
‘You’re welcome to stay in there as long as you want. I’d better go and see to Josie.’
I heard the Mother’s voice say something, then she too came out onto the balcony. She had lost her usual straight-backed posture and Mr Capaldi extended a hand, as though ready to catch her if she fell over.
‘You okay there, Chrissie?’
The Mother pushed past Mr Capaldi and started down the steps, holding onto the rail. Midway down, she paused to push back her hair, then she came down the rest of the way.
‘So what do you think?’ Josie asked with anxious eyes.
‘It’s okay,’ the Mother said. ‘It’ll be okay. Paul, you want to see it, go ahead.’
‘Maybe in just a minute,’ the Father said. ‘Capaldi, I’d appreciate you getting finished with us quickly today. I want to take Josie out for a coffee and cake.’
‘That’s okay, Paul. We have everything under control. You sure you’re okay there, Chrissie?’
‘I’m fine,’ the Mother said, but she hurried to reach the black sofa.
‘Josie,’ Mr Capaldi said. ‘Just before we do this, what I’d really like is for Klara here to do me a little favor. I have a small assignment for her. I was thinking maybe she could be getting on with it while we took our photos. That okay?’
‘Fine by me,’ Josie said. ‘But you should ask Klara.’
But Mr Capaldi now addressed the Father. ‘Paul, maybe as a fellow scientist, you’ll agree with me. I believe AFs have so much more to give us than we currently appreciate. We shouldn’t fear their intellectual powers. We should learn from them. AFs have so much to teach us.’
‘I was an engineer, never a scientist. I think you know that. In any case, AFs were never in my territory.’
Mr Capaldi shrugged, and raising a hand to his beard, appeared to be checking its texture. Then he turned to me, saying: ‘Klara, I’ve been devising a survey for you. A kind of questionnaire. It’s up there on the screen ready to go. If you wouldn’t mind completing it, I’d be so grateful.’
Before I could say anything, the Mother said: ‘It’s a good idea, Klara. Give you something to do while Josie gets through her sitting.’
‘Of course. I’d be happy to help.’
‘Thanks! It’s nothing difficult, I swear. In fact, what I’d like, Klara, is for you to make no special effort. The whole thing works best if you respond spontaneously.’
‘I understand.’
‘They’re not even questions as such. But why don’t we just go up there and I’ll show you? Folks, Josie, this won’t take a minute. I’ll get Klara settled, then come right back down. Josie, you look so well today. This way, Klara.’
I thought he might take me also to the Purple Door, but we went to the opposite side of the room, where a different metal staircase climbed to its own section of balcony. Mr Capaldi went first up the steps, then I followed, taking each step carefully. When I glanced back down, I saw Josie, the Mother and the Father looking up at us, the Mother still seated on the black sofa. I waved towards Josie, but no one below moved. Then Josie called up: ‘Be good, Klara!’
‘This way please, Klara.’ The balcony was narrow, made from the same dark metal as the staircase. Mr Capaldi was holding open a glass door leading into a room smaller even than Josie’s en suite, dominated by a padded desk chair facing a screen. ‘Please sit down in there. It’s all waiting for you.’
I seated myself with a white wall at my shoulder. Beneath the screen was a narrow ledge offering three control devices.
The room wasn’t large enough for Mr Capaldi to come in too, so the glass door remained open while he gave me his instructions, reaching over sometimes to manipulate the devices. I listened to him carefully, even though I became aware that below, the Mother and the Father were once again using tense voices. Behind Mr Capaldi’s words, I heard the Mother saying: ‘No one’s insisting you stay, Paul.’
‘It’s not consistent,’ the Father was saying. ‘I’m merely pointing out the inconsistency.’
‘I’m not trying to be consistent. I’m just trying to find a way forward for us. Why make it harder than it is, Paul?’
Beside me, Mr Capaldi laughed, broke off from his instructions and said: ‘Oh my. Looks like I’d better go down there and referee! You all straight here, Klara?’
‘Thank you. Everything’s quite clear.’
‘I appreciate it. Anything puzzles you, please call down.’
When he closed the door it actually nudged my shoulder, but I could see sufficiently through its glass to watch Mr Capaldi descending beneath the balcony level. Then I allowed my gaze to go beyond, across the empty air, over to the opposite balcony and the Purple Door from which the Mother had recently emerged.
I began Mr Capaldi’s questionnaire. Sometimes a question would come on the screen as writing. At other times there were shifting diagrams, or the screen would darken and sounds with many layers emerge from the speakers. A face – Josie’s, the Mother’s, a stranger’s – would appear then vanish. At first, short responses of around twelve digits and symbols were appropriate, but as the questions grew more complex, I found myself giving longer answers, some running to over a hundred digits and symbols. All the time, the voices from below remained tense, but with the glass door closed, I could no longer hear their words.
Halfway through my assignment, I caught movement through the glass and saw on the opposite balcony Mr Capaldi leading the Father up onto it. I continued my assignment, but having grasped its central purpose, I no longer needed to give it much attention, and was able to watch the Father, nervously drawing the raincoat around him, approaching the Purple Door. He had his back to me and I was looking through frosted glass, so I couldn’t be sure, but he looked as though he’d become suddenly ill.
But Mr Capaldi, on the balcony beside him, seemed unconcerned, smiling and talking cheerfully. Then he reached up to the keypad beside the Purple Door. From inside my cubicle I couldn’t hear the unlocking hum, but the next time I glanced their way, the Father had gone inside and Mr Capaldi was leaning in through the doorway, saying something. Then I saw Mr Capaldi move suddenly backward, and the Father came out and, though I couldn’t be sure through the frosted glass, he looked no longer ill but filled with a new energy. He seemed not to mind that he’d almost knocked Mr Capaldi aside, and started down the metal steps at reckless speed. Mr Capaldi, watching him, shook his head as a parent would do when a child has a tantrum in a store, then closed the Purple Door.
The images on the screen were changing ever faster now, but my tasks remained obvious, and after several minutes, without losing focus, I pushed partially ajar the glass door beside me. I could then hear more clearly the voices below.
‘What you’re emphasizing here, Paul,’ Mr Capaldi was saying, ‘is how any work we do brands us. That’s your point, am I right? It brands us, and sometimes brands us unjustly.’
‘That’s a very smart way of misunderstanding my point, Capaldi.’
‘Paul, come on,’ the Mother said.
‘I’m sorry, Capaldi, if this sounds impolite. But frankly? I think you’re deliberately misconstruing what I’m saying.’
‘No, Paul, you’re genuinely not coming through here. There are always ethical choices around any work. That’s true, whether we get paid for it or we don’t.’
‘That’s very considerate of you, Capaldi.’
‘Paul, come on,’ the Mother said again. ‘Henry’s just doing what we asked him. No more, no less.’
‘It’s no wonder, Capaldi – Henry, sorry – a guy like you would struggle to understand what I’m saying here.’
I pushed back my chair on its castors, rose and passed through the glass door onto the balcony. I’d already established that the balcony was a rectangular circuit touching all four walls. Now, choosing the rear half of it, I kept close to the white wall, taking care not to cause the metal mesh to ring under my feet, or to cross spotlight beams in any way that could create moving shadows below. I reached the Purple Door unnoticed and keyed in the code I’d observed twice already. There came the usual short hum, but this too went unnoticed by those below. I was then inside Mr Capaldi’s studio and closed the door behind me.
The room was L-shaped, the section before me turning a corner into an extension beyond the normal boundary of the building. Leading towards this corner were two counters attached to each wall, busy with shapes, fabrics, small knives and tools. But I had no time to focus on these, and went on towards the corner, remembering to tread cautiously, because the floor was still of the same metal mesh.
I turned the corner of the L and saw Josie there, suspended in the air. She wasn’t very high – her feet were at the height of my shoulders – but because she was leaning forward, arms outstretched, fingers spread, she seemed to be frozen in the act of falling. Little beams illuminated her from various angles, forbidding her any refuge. Her face was very like that of the real Josie, but because there was at the eyes no kind smile, the upward curve of her lips gave her an expression I’d never seen before. The face looked disappointed and afraid. Her clothes weren’t real clothes, but made from thin tissue paper to approximate a T-shirt on her top half, loose-fitting shorts on the lower. The tissue was pale yellow and translucent and under the sharp lighting made this Josie’s arms and legs look all the more fragile. Her hair had been tied back in the manner the real Josie wore it on her ill days, and this was the one detail that failed to convince; the hair had been made from a substance I’d never seen on any AF, and I knew this Josie wouldn’t be happy with it.
Having made my observations, my intention was to return to the cubicle before my absence from it was noticed. I walked carefully back past the two work counters and opened the Purple Door a small way. It made the usual humming noise, but I could tell from the voices below that no one had heard it. I could tell too that the mood was now even more filled with tension.
‘Paul’ – the Mother’s voice was almost shouting – ‘you’ve been determined to make this difficult from the start.’
‘Come on, Josie,’ the Father said. ‘Let’s go. Right now.’
‘But Dad…’
‘Josie, we leave right now. Believe me, I know what I’m doing.’
‘I don’t think you do,’ the Mother said, and Mr Capaldi said over her, ‘Paul, come on, take it easy. If there’s been a misunderstanding, I take full responsibility and I apologize.’
‘How much more information do you need anyway?’ the Father asked, and now he was shouting too, but that could perhaps have been because he was moving across the floor. ‘I’m surprised you’re not requesting a sample of her blood.’
‘Paul, be reasonable,’ the Mother said. The Father and Josie were saying something at the same time, but then Mr Capaldi said over them:
‘It’s okay, Chrissie, let them go. Let them go, it doesn’t change anything.’
‘Mom? Why don’t I go with Dad just now? Then at least you can all stop yelling. If I stay here, it’s just going to get worse.’
‘I’m not angry at you, honey. I’m angry at your father. He’s the child here.’
‘Come on, animal. Let’s go.’
‘I’ll see you later, Mom, okay? See you, Mr Capaldi…’
‘Let them go, Chrissie. Just let them go.’
When the entrance door closed behind them, its sound echoed all around the building. I remembered then that the car belonged to the Mother, and wondered if the Father had money for a taxi to take him and Josie to where he now intended them to go. It felt a little strange Josie hadn’t thought to take me with her, but the Mother was still here, and I remembered the day we’d gone to Morgan’s Falls.
I stepped out onto the balcony, now making no effort to conceal myself or to soften my footsteps. Leaning over the steel rail, I saw the Mother had sat down where earlier Josie had been sitting – on the metal chair in front of the charts. Mr Capaldi came across the floor till he was directly below me, and I could see the top of his bald head, but not his expression. He then continued to walk slowly towards the Mother, as if slowness were a mark of his kindness, and stopped beside the tripod-stand lamp.
‘I can see you’re having misgivings,’ he said in a new, soft voice. ‘Let me tell you. I’ve seen this kind of thing happen many times before. And it’s the ones who stick with it, keep faith, who win out.’
‘Damn right I’m having misgivings.’
‘You mustn’t let Paul sway you. Remember. You’ve thought this through and he hasn’t. Paul is confused.’
‘It’s not Paul. To hell with Paul. It’s that…that portrait up there.’
As she said this, she glanced up in my direction and saw me. She stared past the dazzle of the ceiling lights, then Mr Capaldi also turned and looked up at me. Then he looked at the Mother questioningly. The Mother continued to gaze at me, her hand now raised to her forehead.
‘Okay, Klara,’ she said finally. ‘Come on down.’
As I descended the metal steps, I was interested to see that instead of anger, the Mother showed anxiety. I crossed the floor but stopped while still several strides away. It was Mr Capaldi who spoke first.
‘What do you think, Klara? Am I doing a good job?’
‘She resembles Josie quite accurately.’
‘Then I guess that’s a yes. By the way, Klara, how did you get on with the survey?’
‘I completed it, Mr Capaldi.’
‘Then I’m grateful for your cooperation. And you stored the data safely?’
‘Yes, Mr Capaldi. My responses are stored.’
There was a silence, while the Mother continued to stare at me from her chair and Mr Capaldi from beside his tripod light. I realized they were waiting for me to say something further, so I continued:
‘It’s a pity Josie and the Father have left. Mr Capaldi’s work on the portrait may be temporarily impeded.’
‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘Not a serious setback.’
‘I need to hear,’ the Mother said. ‘I need to hear, Klara, what you think. About what you saw.’
‘I apologize for examining the portrait without permission. But in the circumstances, I felt it best to do so.’
‘Okay,’ the Mother said, and again I saw she was fearful rather than angry. ‘Now tell us what you thought. Or rather, tell us what you think you saw up there.’
‘I’d suspected for some time that Mr Capaldi’s portrait wasn’t a picture or a sculpture, but an AF. I went in to confirm my speculation. Mr Capaldi has done an accurate job of catching Josie’s outward appearance. Though perhaps the hips should be a little narrower.’
‘Thank you,’ Mr Capaldi said. ‘I’ll bear that in mind. It’s still a work in progress.’
The Mother suddenly lowered her face into her hands, letting her hair hang over them. Mr Capaldi turned to her with an expression of concern, but didn’t move from his spot. The Mother wasn’t crying though, and she said through her hands, her voice muffled:
‘Maybe Paul’s right. Maybe this whole thing’s been a mistake.’
‘Chrissie. You mustn’t lose faith.’
She brought her head back up and her eyes were now angry. ‘It’s not a matter of faith, Henry. Why are you so fucking sure I’ll be able to accept that AF up there, however well you do her? It didn’t work with Sal, why will it work with Josie?’
‘What we did with Sal is no comparison. We’ve been through this, Chrissie. What we made with Sal was a doll. A bereavement doll, nothing more. We’ve come a long, long way since then. What you have to understand is this. The new Josie won’t be an imitation. She really will be Josie. A continuation of Josie.’
‘You want me to believe that? Do you believe that?’
‘I do believe it. With everything I’m worth, I believe it. I’m glad Klara went in there and looked. We need her on board now, we’ve needed that for a long time. Because it’s Klara who’ll make the difference. Make it very, very different this time round. You have to keep faith, Chrissie. You can’t weaken now.’
‘But will I believe in it? When the day comes. Will I really?’
‘Excuse me,’ I said. ‘I’d like to say there’s a chance you’ll never need the new Josie. The present one may become healthy. I believe there’s a good chance of this. I’ll need, of course, the opportunity, the chance to make it so. But since you’re so distressed, I’d like to say this now. If ever there comes such a sad day, and Josie is obliged to pass away, I’ll do everything in my power. Mr Capaldi is correct. It won’t be like the last time with Sal because this time you’ll have me to help. I now understand why you’ve asked me, at every step, to observe and learn Josie. I hope the very sad day will never come, but if it does, then I’ll use everything I’ve learned to train the new Josie up there to be as much like the former one as possible.’
‘Klara,’ the Mother said in a firmer voice, and suddenly she’d become partitioned into many boxes, far more than at the Friend’s Apartment when the Father had first come in. In several of the boxes her eyes were narrow, while in others they were wide open and large. In one box there was room only for a single staring eyeball. I could see parts of Mr Capaldi at the edges of some boxes, so I was aware that he’d raised his hand into the air in a vague gesture.
‘Klara,’ the Mother was saying. ‘You’ve made your deductions well. And I’m grateful for what you’ve just said. But there’s something you need to hear.’
‘No, Chrissie, not yet.’
‘Why not? Why the hell not? You said yourself we need Klara on board. That she’s the one who’ll make the difference.’
There was a moment of silence, then Mr Capaldi said: ‘Okay. If that’s how you want it. Tell her.’
‘Klara,’ the Mother said. ‘We came here today, the main reason. It wasn’t so Josie could sit more. We came here because of you.’
‘I understand,’ I said. ‘I understood about the survey. It was to test how well I’ve come to know Josie. How well I understand how she makes her decisions and why she has her feelings. I think the results will show I’m well able to train the Josie upstairs. But I say again, it’s wrong to give up hope.’
‘You still don’t quite understand,’ Mr Capaldi said. Although he was standing there before me, his voice seemed to come from the edges of my vision, because all I could see still were the Mother’s eyes. ‘Let me explain to her, Chrissie. It’ll be easier coming from me. Klara, we’re not asking you to train the new Josie. We’re asking you to become her. That Josie you saw up there, as you noticed, is empty. If the day comes – I hope it doesn’t, but if it does – we want you to inhabit that Josie up there with everything you’ve learned.’
‘You wish me to inhabit her?’
‘Chrissie chose you carefully with that in mind. She believed you to be the one best equipped to learn Josie. Not just superficially, but deeply, entirely. Learn her till there’s no difference between the first Josie and the second.’
‘Henry’s telling you this now,’ the Mother said, and suddenly she was no longer partitioned, ‘like it was carefully planned. But it was never like that. I didn’t even know if I believed any of this would work. Maybe once I believed it could. But seeing that portrait up there, I don’t know any more.’
‘So you see what’s being asked of you, Klara,’ Mr Capaldi said. ‘You’re not being required simply to mimic Josie’s outward behavior. You’re being asked to continue her for Chrissie. And for everyone who loves Josie.’
‘But is that going to be possible?’ the Mother said. ‘Could she really continue Josie for me?’
‘Yes, she can,’ Mr Capaldi said. ‘And now Klara’s completed the survey up there, I’ll be able to give you scientific proof of it. Proof she’s already well on her way to accessing quite comprehensively all of Josie’s impulses and desires. The trouble is, Chrissie, you’re like me. We’re both of us sentimental. We can’t help it. Our generation still carry the old feelings. A part of us refuses to let go. The part that wants to keep believing there’s something unreachable inside each of us. Something that’s unique and won’t transfer. But there’s nothing like that, we know that now. You know that. For people our age it’s a hard one to let go. We have to let it go, Chrissie. There’s nothing there. Nothing inside Josie that’s beyond the Klaras of this world to continue. The second Josie won’t be a copy. She’ll be the exact same and you’ll have every right to love her just as you love Josie now. It’s not faith you need. Only rationality. I had to do it, it was tough but now it works for me just fine. And it will for you.’
The Mother stood up and began walking across the room. ‘You may be right, Henry, but I’m too tired to think any more. And I need to talk to Klara, talk with her alone. I’m sorry things got messy here.’ She went to where she’d left her bag hanging from one of the entrance hooks.
‘I’m really glad Klara knows,’ Mr Capaldi said. ‘In fact, I’m relieved.’ He was following behind the Mother, as if reluctant to be left alone. ‘Klara, the data may possibly highlight where you still need to put in a little more effort. But I’m glad we can speak more openly.’
‘Come on, Klara. Let’s go.’
‘So Chrissie. We’re still okay about all this?’
‘We’re fine. But I need a break from it now.’
She touched Mr Capaldi’s shoulder, then we left through the main entrance, which he hurried to open for us. He followed us to the elevator and gave a cheerful wave before the doors closed.
On the descent, the Mother took her oblong from her bag and stared at it. She put it away again as the elevator doors opened, and we walked out across the cracked concrete where the Sun was making his evening patterns through the wire fences. I’d thought there might be a chance Josie and the Father would be waiting there for us, but there was nobody, only a tree’s shadow falling across the Mother’s car, and the sounds of the city nearby.
‘Klara, honey. Get in the front.’
But when we were seated side by side, looking through the windshield at the anti-parking sign, the Mother didn’t start the car. I looked at Mr Capaldi’s building, the Sun’s patterns on its wall and its fire escapes, and I thought it curious the building could be so dirty on the outside. The Mother was again looking at her oblong.
‘They’ve gone to some burger place. Josie says she’s fine. And that he’s fine too.’
‘I hope they’re enjoying themselves.’
‘I’ve things to say to you. But let’s get out of this place.’
When we drove out of the yard into the neighborhood, we had to stop for a lady on a basket bicycle crossing our path. We stopped again a few minutes later under a long-arm traffic signal, even though there were no other cars in sight. Soon after the signal changed, we passed a large brown building set back from the sidewalk with no windows at all, but with a large central chimney, then we moved through an under-bridge area full of shadows, puddles and jump-skaters. We emerged out in the Sun’s patterns beside a building with a ‘Hiring Now’ sign, and soon we were among pedestrians, and the sidewalk had small trees. Eventually the Mother slowed, then stopped beside a sign saying ‘We Grind Our Own Beef’. The other cars had to pass noisily around us, but there was no anti-parking sign. Through the windshield, we could see another under-bridge area in front of us, and the cars that passed us were forming a line to enter it.
‘This is the place. They’re inside there.’ Then she said: ‘Paul does have a point. They need to be by themselves sometimes. Just them. They need that. We shouldn’t always be with them. You see that, Klara?’
‘Of course.’
‘She misses her father. That’s natural. So let’s just sit out here for a while.’
Up ahead the signal color changed and we watched the cars move into the darkness beneath the bridge.
‘This must all be a shock for you,’ she said. ‘You must have questions.’
‘I think I understand.’
‘Oh? You understand? You understand what I’m asking of you? And it is me asking. Not Capaldi and not Paul. In the end it’s me. That’s who it comes down to. I’m asking you to make this work. Because if it happens, if it comes again, there’s going to be no other way for me to survive. I came through it with Sal, but I can’t do it again. So I’m asking you, Klara. Do your best for me. They told me in the store you were remarkable. I’ve watched you enough to know that’s maybe true. If you set your mind to it, then who knows? It might work. And I’ll be able to love you.’
We didn’t look at each other, but kept gazing out through the windshield. Beside me, on my side, an apron man had emerged from the Grind Our Own Beef building and was sweeping the sidewalk.
‘I don’t blame Paul. He’s entitled to his feelings. After Sal, he said we shouldn’t risk it. So what if Josie doesn’t get lifted? Plenty of kids aren’t. But I could never have that for Josie. I wanted the best for her. I wanted her to have a good life. You understand, Klara? I called it, and now Josie’s sick. Because of what I decided. You see how it feels for me?’
‘Yes. I’m sorry.’
‘Feeling sorry’s not what I’m asking of you. I’m asking you to do what’s within your power. And think what it’ll mean for you. You’ll be loved like nothing else in this world. Maybe one day I’ll take up with another man. Who knows? But I promise you I’ll never love him the way I’ll love you. You’ll be Josie and I’ll always love you over everything else. So do it for me. I’m asking you to do it for me. Continue Josie for me. Come on. Say something.’
‘I did wonder. If I were to continue Josie, if I were to inhabit the new Josie, then what would happen to…all this?’ I raised my arms in the air, and for the first time the Mother looked at me. She glanced at my face, then down at my legs. Then she looked away and said:
‘What does it matter? That’s just fabric. Look, there’s something else you might consider. Maybe it doesn’t mean so much to you, me loving you. But here’s something else. That boy. Rick. I can see he’s something to you. Don’t speak
