‘Yeah,’ Josie said. ‘Yeah, I guess we did. I guess I was the one who screwed up. I mean taking so long.’
As I smiled at her, she called over her shoulder: ‘Mom! This is her! The one I’ve been looking for!’
The Mother came slowly towards the arch, then stopped. And for a moment, all three were looking at me: Josie at the front, beaming happily; Manager, just behind her, also smiling, but with a caution in her look which I took as an important signal from her; and then the Mother, her eyes narrowed like people on the sidewalk when they’re trying to see if a taxi is free or already taken. And when I saw her and the way she was looking at me, the fear – the one that had all but vanished when Josie had cried, ‘You’re still here!’ – came back into my mind.
‘I didn’t mean to take so long,’ Josie was saying. ‘But I got a little sick. I’m fine again though.’ Then she called back: ‘Mom? Can we buy her right away? Before someone else comes in and takes her?’
There was silence, then the Mother said quietly, ‘This one isn’t a B3, I take it.’
‘Klara is a B2,’ Manager said. ‘From the fourth series, which some say has never been surpassed.’
‘But not a B3.’
‘The B3 innovations are truly marvelous. But some customers feel, for a certain sort of child, a top-range B2 can still be the most happy match.’
‘I see.’
‘Mom. Klara’s the one I want. I don’t want any other.’
‘One moment, Josie.’ Then she asked Manager: ‘Every Artificial Friend is unique, right?’
‘That’s correct, ma’am. And particularly so at this level.’
‘So what makes this one unique? This…Klara?’
‘Klara has so many unique qualities, we could be here all morning. But if I had to emphasize just one, well, it would have to be her appetite for observing and learning. Her ability to absorb and blend everything she sees around her is quite amazing. As a result, she now has the most sophisticated understanding of any AF in this store, B3s not excepted.’
‘Is that so.’
The Mother was once again looking at me with narrowed eyes. She then took three more steps towards me.
‘You mind if I ask her a few questions?’
‘Please go ahead.’
‘Mom, please…’
‘Excuse me, Josie. Just stand over there a moment while I talk to Klara.’
Then it was the Mother and me, and though I tried to keep a smile on my face, it was not easy, and I might even have let the fear show.
‘Klara,’ the Mother said. ‘I want you not to look towards Josie. Now tell me, without looking. What color are her eyes?’
‘They’re gray, ma’am.’
‘Good. Josie, I want you to keep absolutely silent. Now, Klara. My daughter’s voice. You heard her speak just now. How would you say her voice was pitched?’
‘Her conversational voice has a range between A-flat above middle C to C octave.’
‘Is that so?’ There was another silence, then the Mother said: ‘Last question. Klara. What did you notice about the way my daughter walks?’
‘There’s perhaps a weakness in her left hip. Also her right shoulder has potential to give pain, so Josie walks in a way that will protect it from sudden motion or unnecessary impact.’
The Mother considered this. Then she said, ‘Well, Klara. Since you appear to know so much about it. Will you please reproduce for me Josie’s walk? Will you do that for me? Right now? My daughter’s walk?’
Behind the Mother’s shoulder, I saw Manager’s lips part, as though about to speak. But she said nothing. Instead, meeting my gaze, she gave me the smallest of nods.
So I started to walk. I realized that, as well as the Mother – and of course Josie – the whole store was now watching and listening. I stepped beneath the arch, onto the Sun’s patterns spread across the floor. Then I went in the direction of the B3s standing mid-store, and the Glass Display Trolley. I did all I could to reproduce Josie’s walk just as I’d seen it, that first time after she’d got out of the taxi, when Rosa and I were in the window, then four days later, when she’d come towards the window after the Mother had removed her hand from her shoulder, then finally as I’d seen her a moment ago, hurrying to me with relieved happiness in her eyes.
When I reached the Glass Display Trolley I started to go around it, taking care not to lose the character of Josie’s walk even as I tried not to brush against the boy B3 standing beside the trolley.
But as I was about to start on the return lap, I glanced up and caught sight of the Mother, and something in what I saw made me stop. She was still watching me carefully, but it was as if her gaze was now focused straight through me, as if I was the glass in the window and she was trying to see something a long way behind it. I remained there beside the Glass Display Trolley, one foot poised, heel off the floor, and there was a strange stillness in the store. Then Manager said:
‘As you see, Klara has extraordinary observational ability. I’ve never known one like her.’
‘Mom.’ This time Josie’s voice was hushed. ‘Mom. Please.’
‘Very well. We’ll take her.’
Josie came hurrying to me. She put her arms around me and held me. When I gazed over the child’s head, I saw Manager smiling happily, and the Mother, her face drawn and serious, looking down to search in her shoulder bag.
PART TWO
The kitchen was especially difficult to navigate because so many of its elements would change their relationships to one another moment by moment. I now appreciated how in the store – surely out of consideration for us – Manager had carefully kept all the items, even smaller ones like the bracelets or the silver earrings box, in their correct places. Throughout Josie’s house, however, and in the kitchen in particular, Melania Housekeeper would constantly move items around, obliging me to start afresh in my learning. One morning, for instance, Melania Housekeeper altered the position of her food blender four times within as many minutes. But once I’d established the importance of the Island, things became much easier.
The Island was in the center of the kitchen, and perhaps to emphasize its fixed-down nature, had pale brown tiles that mimicked the bricks of a building. Sunk into its middle was a shiny basin, and there were three highstools along the longest edge where residents could sit. In those early days, when Josie was still quite strong, she often sat at the Island to do her tutorial work, or just to relax with her pencil and sketchpad. I found it hard at first to sit on the Island’s highstools because my feet couldn’t touch the floor, and if I tried to swing them, they would become obstructed by a rod that crossed the highstool frame. But then I copied Josie’s method of placing elbows firmly down on the Island’s surface, and from then on felt more secure – though there always remained the possibility that Melania Housekeeper would appear suddenly behind me, reach for the taps and make water come out with great force. The first time this happened, I was so startled I nearly lost balance, but Josie beside me barely moved, and I soon learned there was nothing to fear from a few specks of moisture.
The kitchen was an excellent room for the Sun to look into. There were large windows facing a wide sky and an outdoors almost permanently empty of traffic and passers-by. Standing at the large windows, it was possible to see the road rising over the hill past faraway trees. The kitchen often filled with the Sun’s best nourishment, and in addition to the large windows, there was a skylight on the high ceiling which could be revealed or concealed with a remote. I at first worried about the way Melania Housekeeper often made the blind come over the skylight just as the Sun was sending in his nourishment. But then I saw how easily Josie could grow too warm, and learned to use the remote myself if the Sun’s pattern over her became too intense.
I found strange for a while not only the lack of traffic and passers-by, but also the absence of other AFs. Of cour
se, I hadn’t expected other AFs to be in the house, and I was in many ways pleased to be the only one, since I could focus my attention solely on Josie. But I realized how much I’d grown used to making observations and estimates in relation to those of other AFs around me, and here too was another adjustment I had to make. In those early days, at stray moments, I’d often look out at the highway going over the hill – or at the view across the fields from the bedroom rear window – and search with my gaze for the figure of a distant AF, before remembering how unlikely a prospect that was, so far away from the city and other buildings.
During my very first days in the house, I foolishly thought Melania Housekeeper might be a person rather like Manager, and this led to a few misunderstandings. For instance, I’d thought it might be her duty to introduce me to the various aspects of my new life, and understandably, Melania Housekeeper had found my frequent presence in her vicinity both puzzling and irritating. When at last she turned angrily around to me and shouted, ‘Quit follow me AF get lost!’ I was surprised, but soon came to appreciate that her role in the house was quite unlike Manager’s, and that I’d been at fault.
Even allowing for such misunderstandings on my part, it remains hard not to believe Melania Housekeeper was opposed from the start to my presence. Although I behaved towards her with consistent politeness, and especially in the first days, tried to do small things to please her, she never returned my smiles, or spoke to me other than to issue an instruction or reprimand. Today, as I gather together these memories, it seems obvious that her hostility had to do with her larger fears concerning what might be happening around Josie. But at the time there was no easy way for me to account for her coldness. She seemed often to wish to shorten the time I spent with Josie – which of course ran counter to my duty – and, initially, she even attempted to prevent me coming into the kitchen for the Mother’s quick coffee and Josie’s breakfast. It was only after Josie insisted strongly – the Mother finally ruling in my favor – that I was permitted to be in the kitchen for these pivotal moments each morning. Even then, Melania Housekeeper tried to insist that I remain standing by the refrigerator while Josie and the Mother sat at the Island, and I was allowed to join them only after more protests from Josie.
The Mother’s quick coffee was, as I say, an important moment every morning, and it was one of my tasks to wake Josie up in good time for it. Often, despite my repeated efforts, Josie wouldn’t rise until the very last moment, and would then start shouting from inside her en suite bathroom, ‘Hurry up, Klara! We’ll be late!’ even though I was already outside on the landing, waiting anxiously.
We would find the Mother sitting at the Island, staring at her oblong as she drank her coffee, Melania Housekeeper hovering nearby ready to refill her cup. There was often not much time for Josie and the Mother to converse, but I soon learned how important it was, nonetheless, for Josie to be able to sit with the Mother during the quick coffee. Once, when her illness had disturbed much of her night, I allowed Josie to fall back asleep after I’d woken her, thinking it best she rest a little more. When she woke up, she shouted angry words at me, and for all her being weak, hurried to get downstairs in time. But as she was emerging from her en suite, we heard the Mother’s car down on the loose stones below, and we hurried to the front window in time to see her car moving away towards the hill. Josie didn’t shout at me again, but once we were down in the kitchen, she didn’t smile while she ate her breakfast. I understood then that if she failed to join the Mother for the quick coffee, there was the danger of loneliness creeping into her day, no matter what other events filled it.
Occasionally there were mornings when the Mother didn’t have to hurry; when though she was in her high-rank clothes, and her bag was against the refrigerator, she would drink her coffee slowly, even getting off the highstool and walking around with the cup and saucer in her hands. Sometimes she would stand before the large windows, the Sun’s morning pattern over her, and say something like:
‘You know, Josie, I get the impression you’ve given up on your color pencils. I love those black-and-whites you’re doing. But I do miss the color pictures.’
‘I decided, Mom, my color pictures were a major embarrassment.’
‘An embarrassment? Oh, come on!’
‘Mom. Me drawing in color is like you playing that cello. In fact, worse.’
When Josie said this, the Mother’s face broke into a smile. The Mother didn’t smile often, but when she did, her smile was surprisingly like Josie’s: her whole face seemed to overflow with kindness, and the same creases that usually created such a tense expression would refold into ones of humor and gentleness.
‘I have to admit. My cello-playing, even at its glorious best, sounded like Dracula’s grandmother. But your use of color is more like, well, a pond on a summer’s evening. Something like that. You do beautiful things with color, Josie. Things no one else even thought about.’
‘Mom. People’s children’s pictures always look that way to them. Something to do with the evolutionary process.’
‘You know what? I think this all has to do with when you took that very good flyer you made into that meeting that time. The meeting before last. And that Richards girl said something a little ironic. I’ve told you before, I know, but here it is again. That young lady was jealous of your talent. That’s why she said what she did.’
‘Okay. If you really mean that, Mom, I might even go back to the color. And maybe in return, you could take up your cello again.’
‘Oh no. That’s all behind me now. Unless someone’s desperate for a soundtrack for their homemade zombie picture.’
But there were other mornings when the Mother would remain unsmiling and tense, even if the quick coffee didn’t have to be hurried. If Josie was talking about her oblong tutors, doing her best to be humorous about them, the Mother would listen with a serious expression, then interrupt to say:
‘We could switch. If you don’t like the guy, we can always switch.’
‘No, Mom, please. I’m just talking, okay? In fact, this guy’s so much better than the last one. He’s funny too.’
‘That’s good.’ The Mother would nod, her face still serious. ‘The way you’re always willing to give people a decent chance. That’s a good trait.’
In those days, when Josie’s health was quite good, she still liked to eat her evening meal after the Mother had come in from her work. This meant we would often go up to Josie’s bedroom to wait for the Mother’s return – and to watch the Sun go to his resting place.
Just as Josie had promised, the bedroom rear window had a clear view across the fields all the way to the horizon, allowing us to watch the Sun sinking into the ground at the end of his day. Although Josie always talked about ‘the field’, it was in fact three fields adjoining one another, and anyone looking carefully could see the posts marking their boundaries. The grass was tall in all three fields, and when the wind blew, it would move as if invisible passers-by were hurrying through it.
The sky from the bedroom rear window was far larger than the gap of sky at the store – and capable of surprising variations. Sometimes it was the color of the lemons in the fruit bowl, then could turn to the gray of the slate chopping boards. When Josie wasn’t well, it could turn the color of her vomit or her pale feces, or even develop streaks of blood. Sometimes the sky would become divided into a series of squares, each one a different shade of purple to its neighbor.
There was a soft cream couch beside the bedroom rear window which I named in my mind ‘the Button Couch’. Although it faced inwards into the room, Josie and I liked to kneel on it, our arms against its cushioned back, and gaze out at the sky and the fields. Josie appreciated how much I enjoyed the last part of the Sun’s journey, and we tried to watch it from the Button Couch whenever possible. There was a time, when the Mother had come back earlier than usual, and she and Josie were talking on the highstools
of the Island – and to give privacy, I’d gone to stand beside the refrigerator. The Mother that evening was in an energetic mood, speaking rapidly, recounting humorous things about the people in her office, pausing every now and then to laugh, sometimes in long bursts that made her almost lose breath. In the middle of this talk, when the Mother seemed about to break into more laughter, Josie interrupted to say:
‘Mom, that’s just great. But do you mind if Klara and I go up to my room for a minute? Klara just loves to watch the sunset and if we don’t go now we’ll miss it.’
When she said this I glanced round and saw the kitchen had become filled with the Sun’s evening light. The Mother was staring at Josie, and I thought she was about to become angry. But then her face softened into her kind smile, and she said: ‘Of course, honey. You go ahead. Go watch your sunset. Then we’ll get supper.’
Apart from the fields and the sky, there was something else we could see from the bedroom rear window that drew my curiosity: a dark box-like shape at the end of the furthest field. It didn’t move as the grass shifted around it, and when the Sun came so low it was almost touching the grass, the dark shape remained in front of his glow. It was on the evening Josie risked the Mother’s anger on my behalf that I pointed it out to her. When I did so, she raised herself higher on the Button Couch and moved her hands to her eyes to shade them.
‘Oh, you must mean Mr McBain’s barn.’
‘A barn?’
‘It’s maybe not really a barn because it’s open on two sides. More a shelter, I guess. Mr McBain keeps stuff in there. I went there once with Rick.’
‘I wonder why the Sun would go for his rest to a place like that.’
‘Yeah,’ Josie said. ‘You’d think the Sun would need a palace, minimum. Maybe Mr McBain’s done a big upgrade since I was last there.’
‘I wonder when it was Josie went there.’
‘Oh, a long time ago now. Rick and I were still quite little. Before I got sick.’
Klara and the Sun Page 5