The End of Sunset Grove

by Minna Lindgren

  ‘That’s the idea behind smartpants: they can tell if the person wearing them is alive or dead,’ Irma said consolingly. Irma had forced Anna-Liisa out for a little walk to the seashore, and now the rain-dampened duo were recuperating in massage chairs at Siiri’s side. None of them started up the chairs, since they knew how horrible that felt.

  ‘They’re not just trousers; they’re overalls. They also have models with trousers and a separate wrap top, but I have no idea which model this Mrs Leppänen was wearing when she died,’ Anna-Liisa said, letting it be understood that she was as well versed in this sphere of life as she was in many others. According to her, smartclothes were woven with smartstrands that weren’t the least bit smart but were capable of performing simple mechanical measurements. ‘This is what passes for intelligence in our society these days. So be it.’ Anna-Liisa held a reflective pause before continuing.

  There were two types of smartclothes: those for healthy people, and those for the elderly. Healthy people wanted to continually monitor their body function and for that reason used smartclothes to collect various observations about themselves. ‘This monitoring doesn’t make them any more healthy, so it’s all utterly pointless, especially since so much of this so-called information is gathered that even the most long-suffering soul wouldn’t have time to process it all during one incarnation.’ She allowed her gaze to wander to the ceiling as she took a moment to ponder the content of her lecture, which at this point might have slipped into dealing with life after death. Then she sighed twice and pulled herself together. ‘I’d be happy to tell you more, but our topic proper would seem to be the smartwear of the elderly. Its primary purpose is to monitor the heart and circulatory functions. The clothing reports the results to a computer, from which a doctor can then, if desired, substantiate whether or not the wearer is dead. I presume this was what occurred with Mrs Leppänen. It’s another matter entirely how the doctor reacts to the information he or she has received.’

  ‘You’re saying information zips from a blouse directly to the doctor?’ Irma had to confirm this, because it sounded so incredible.

  ‘But we don’t have any doctors here,’ Siiri said. Sunset Grove had let go of all of its dedicated doctors the previous year, as national statistics had shown that, for all practical purposes, no one in Finland had a personal physician any more. Health-care districts had been expanded to the point where one doctor was responsible for half of the country; it was completely natural that no one wanted to do that much work, and that’s why there was a shortage of doctors. Statistically there were sufficient numbers of them, but because each one worked an average of three days a week, that meant there weren’t enough to go round. Anna-Liisa had seen this somewhere, too – not in the newspaper of course, because she didn’t have the requisite device for reading it, but some publication she deemed credible regardless.

  ‘That’s the crux of the problem,’ Anna-Liisa said, looking satisfied, as she had led her audience onto the desired path without unnecessary offshoots or circumlocutions.

  ‘Des Pudels Kern!’ Irma cried. It was one of her favourite sayings. ‘Goethe’s Faust, you know.’

  ‘Doctors? Those virtual beings who have been transformed from experts into mobile services?’

  ‘I must say I’m impressed by how contemporary your vocabulary is, Siiri. The crux of the problem is that no one is doing anything with all this constant flood of information being generated about us and everyone else: for instance, the fact that an old woman has died in her electric wheelchair.’

  They all paused to reflect on Anna-Liisa’s ruminations. For a long time, no one said anything.

  ‘For we must needs die, and are as water spilt on the ground, which cannot be gathered up again. 2 Sam. 14:14.’

  The smartwall offered a constant barrage of Bible verses for the angst a naturally approaching death aroused in old people. Oh, smartwall! How little it knew of Sunset Grove’s residents and their concerns. Probably nothing was anticipated with such longing in this incubator of gerontechnological caregiving as a beautiful, gentle death.

  Siiri felt like climbing out of the massage chair but couldn’t. She had sunk into its depths and couldn’t find anywhere to take hold and dislodge herself. How did Margit manage this? She was, of course, vastly fatter than the slender Siiri. Irma couldn’t get out of her chair, either, and practically choked on her laughter.

  ‘Verily I say unto you, I am like water spilt into the massage chair!’

  ‘Has a robot been invented for this? Some clever hoist? What would its mating call be?’ Siiri said, and got Irma to sing passages from opera arias. Anna-Liisa looked impatient and didn’t say anything.

  ‘I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live. John 11:25.’

  Just as they had given up crying for help, Aatos Jännes stepped out of the elevator. He rushed right over to his tercet, as he called them, and offered aid with both hands. He tugged the women out of the chairs one by one, uttered vaguely inappropriate sentiments, and whirled Irma, who was the last to be resurrected, around the lobby in a waltz. Irma broke out in a high, tinkling laugh and would have been happy to continue dancing, but didn’t dare when she saw her friends’ grim faces.

  ‘Would you care to chaperone me to the dance tomorrow afternoon?’ Aatos whispered in Irma’s ear, and Irma nodded, giddy as a teenage girl. If there was anything she loved and missed from her earlier life, it was waltzing.

  Siiri couldn’t believe her eyes; after all, Irma had been the one to tell them about the adorable little Eila’s unpleasant surprises in Aatos’s company. On the other hand, Don Giovanni managed to seduce 2065 women before getting his just deserts.

  ‘There’s always a Zerlina in the crowd,’ she muttered to herself, hoping Irma would hear.

  Chapter 11

  While Irma was making eyes at her dancing partner, Anna-Liisa and Siiri went for a tram ride. Irma and Aatos had made a conspicuous departure by taxicab, which Aatos had paid for with invalid coupons, even though he walked and danced on two feet with no trouble. Siiri remembered that Anna-Liisa’s Ambassador had used similar coupons despite not being disabled, and for that reason refrained from remarking on the matter. Apparently it wasn’t uncommon for elderly men to arrange small perks for themselves at the expense of those who genuinely needed them.

  It was a snow-free November and pitch-black by 5 p.m. Riding the familiar routes in the darkness had an ambience of its own, as one could see into people’s flats. The homes glowed cheerfully into the gloom, creating a cosy mood. Siiri was eagerly anticipating the handsome chandelier on the third floor of Mannerheimintie 45, but when the tram drove past, the chandelier had disappeared. In its place was a depressing contemporary hardware-store find.

  ‘Perhaps the owner of the chandelier died,’ Siiri remarked matter-of-factly.

  ‘Or else they came to their senses and rid themselves of an impractical lighting fixture that collected dust,’ Anna-Liisa countered.

  They gazed out at the apartments on Mannerheimintie and wondered why they didn’t spy bookshelves in any of them; all they saw were blank white walls and the occasional television that took up half the room. They didn’t see a single bookshelf during the entire ride from Töölö to Stockmann. At Aleksanterinkatu they switched to a number 2, which turned into a number 3 at the southern harbour. They were curious to see if the situation improved with regard to bookshelves and chandeliers in southernmost Helsinki. But no luck. Not a single book on the walls of the high-ceilinged, generous rooms. At least some inherited art flashed past behind the irregularly shaped windowpanes. Tehtaankatu 12 was one of Siiri’s favourite buildings: a regal yellow building from the 1920s, a little younger than her, in other words. She would have recognized it in her sleep from its bay windows, where on this evening ecologically responsible Ikea lamps glowed in competition with the televisions. One measly bookshelf appeared in the next building over, on the first floor of Bertel Gripenberg’s
dreadful concrete monstrosity. Some old-fashioned humanities student must have been holed up in there.

  ‘I’m not being taken to court after all,’ Anna-Liisa suddenly blurted out. She looked relieved and wanted to report on the most recent developments in detail. One of the Ambassador’s offspring had been convinced that Anna-Liisa had disposed of the Ambassador’s property during their brief marriage, but when they had sought legal recourse, a settlement had been reached. As a result, Anna-Liisa had to pay some cumbersome compensation to several of the Ambassador’s children and grandchildren.

  ‘Can you afford it?’ Siiri asked in surprise, as it appeared as if the Ambassador’s greedy heirs were sweeping the entire estate into their own pockets, leaving Anna-Liisa nothing but expenses. But Anna-Liisa put Siiri’s mind at ease. She had been wise enough to prepare for the worst, or rather Onni had, and so she had a little extra money stashed away. Nor was there any way the Ambassador’s most brazen relations could cut her completely out of her husband’s estate.

  ‘Are you still keeping the money in the jewellery box?’ Siiri asked, at which point Anna-Liisa laughed bitterly and then said that was a private matter. She was right, of course. Siiri was ashamed of having been tactless enough to say what was on her mind.

  ‘But can you imagine, one of his former wives, this Yugoslav, insists she’s an heir now, too.’ Anna-Liisa was almost excited by this turn of events, as she found it unprecedented but absolutely legal. When her daughter, who was sired by Onni, had died, the daughter’s share of Onni’s estate had transferred to her. ‘And she’s older than I am!’ Anna-Liisa laughed heartily, as she had during the happiest days of her engagement. Siiri didn’t know what was so funny, but Anna-Liisa hadn’t been this carefree in ages, and so Siiri relished it. ‘There you have it, money is nothing but a headache,’ Anna-Liisa continued, after her laughter died. ‘It’s all the same to me how much of this mess I inherit. I’m not going to live much longer regardless, and I don’t have any children. Which brings me to my biggest headache.’

  The tram trundled down Fredrikinkatu, the most enchanting of Helsinki’s longer streets. It was full of little boutiques, and they were kept lit in the November murk even though the shops were closed. Anna-Liisa said that she had received an unusual phone call from a stranger, a man who had claimed to be representing the Awaken Now! Association, the very one that recruited the volunteers who worked at Sunset Grove. The fellow had asked peculiar questions about Anna-Liisa’s life as a widow. The phone call had left her feeling disconcerted; she had grown sceptical when the caller offered to help her in any potential problems, free of charge.

  ‘That was kind of him. I’m sure he has your best interests at heart. Haven’t you decided what will happen to your estate when you die? If you don’t make a will, everything will go to the state. That’s not what you want, is it?’

  ‘I know. But I’m afraid this man has something else on his mind,’ Anna-Liisa said glumly. Siiri tried to dispel her concerns and started musing on how Anna-Liisa could use her money wisely. What if she set up a fund at the Finnish Cultural Foundation to support the literary activities of female Finnish teachers?

  ‘Sure! Or I can establish an association for cat lovers and pour my money into that!’

  In the end, they had quite a jolly ride home, planning the most effective way to burn through Anna-Liisa’s wealth, as it was much wiser to use the money up than pass it on and be a bother to someone else. But when the tram fearlessly raced down Paciuksenkatu towards Munkkiniemi and Sunset Grove, Anna-Liisa grew serious again.

  ‘Have you happened to notice how much we’re paying for the privilege of serving as test subjects for automated data processing?’

  That Siiri had not done, as her great-granddaughter’s former boyfriend Tuukka continued to manage her banking. She hadn’t heard a peep from Tuukka in months, which meant things were going fine. But Anna-Liisa had heard from her own banking representative that payments had skyrocketed since the renovation. ‘At this rate we’ll all be penniless if we live to see one hundred,’ Anna-Liisa said.

  ‘Luckily, we won’t!’ Siiri remarked blithely as they stepped out of the tram on Munkkiniemi Allée.

  Chapter 12

  ‘Shameless cad! Degenerate! Take that, and that, you would-be Casanova!’

  Siiri and Anna-Liisa were approaching Sunset Grove after their tram ride when they suddenly heard a curious commotion. A large taxi van purred outside the building, and shrill shrieks could be heard from the vehicle. They recognized Irma from the high notes.

  The driver was still in his seat, as nowadays taxi-van doors opened at the touch of a button and drivers no longer needed to budge to feign courtesy. But as the volume of the exchange escalated, he decided to haul himself up from his seat. Hearts hammering, Anna-Liisa and Siiri exchanged glances as the African driver yanked an enraged Irma from the van, followed by a bleeding Aatos.

  ‘Lord have mercy! What have you two been up to?’ Siiri cried in horror.

  ‘Dancing our hearts out!’ Irma cried angrily and marched inside, dragging her cane behind her.

  The taxi driver demanded Aatos pay the fare, but Aatos looked confused and didn’t understand what was going on.

  As the foreigner yelled at him rudely in poor English, Aatos pulled crumpled coupons out of his pocket, which the driver grabbed before speeding off. Siiri and Anna-Liisa quickly followed Irma inside and helped her sit down at the card table. Aatos remained standing outside, which was probably a wise decision under the circumstances.

  Irma huffed and puffed, but was otherwise in extraordinarily good form. She explained that everything had gone well as long as they were dancing at the Kinapori senior centre. There had been a nice crowd and a fine orchestra, and Aatos had been a spectacular dancer.

  ‘Besides, I was a tremendous succès! So popular, as a matter of fact, that when seventy-year-olds kept asking me to dance, Aatos started getting a little jealous. Perhaps that’s what made him so indecent on the ride home.’

  Irma and Aatos had barely made it into the back seat of the taxi van before Aatos had started pawing at Irma.

  ‘It was awful, animalistic and compulsive.’ Irma looked at them in shame. It was no doubt embarrassing for her to have thrown herself so recklessly into the company of such a suspect character. ‘Imagine, at this age! But I do so love dancing! I never would have thought the first time a man tried to force himself on me would happen at the age of ninety-five. If the driver hadn’t come to my aid, who knows what might have happened?’

  ‘Aatos’s nose was bleeding. Did you hit him?’ Anna-Liisa asked, demonstrating her experience as an interrogator.

  ‘I certainly did! And I didn’t just hit; I kicked and bit. What would you have done if you had been in my shoes?’

  They saw the manhandled Aatos Jännes wander unsteadily into the lobby and off in completely the wrong direction. He didn’t look like himself; blood was still dripping from his nose. The little lobby robot was on the alert; it smelled the blood and started whirring in Aatos’s footsteps, cleaning the red droplets from the floor. Siiri felt it was her responsibility to help the hapless Casanova, as he didn’t even know where he was going.

  ‘Home . . . back to Karelia,’ he muttered in a weak voice. ‘To my mummy’s house.’

  ‘Let’s stop for a moment and see where the blood is coming from.’

  When they halted, the diligent cleaning creature bumped into them and started whining unpleasantly. Siiri kicked the robot out from under her feet, at which point it produced some sort of alarm, a high siren wail. A nearby smartwall was immediately on the case.

  ‘Technical malfunction detected! 1) Turn off the device 2) Clear the area 3) Contact the maintenance company. The righteousness of the upright shall deliver them: but transgressors shall be taken in their own naughtiness. Prov. 11:6.’

  ‘Transgressors and naughtiness! Even the smartwall knows what sort of man you are,’ Siiri said and looked at Aatos, the wall and the robot with equa
l disdain. She was about to switch off the howling cleaner when she realized the bleeding Aatos was the more pressing issue, despite making less noise. She pushed him down in a walker someone had left in the middle of the floor, and Aatos obeyed, docile as a child. His left eye was swollen, and his nose was still bleeding. But Siiri’s practised scan, seasoned during wartime, could detect no wounds or serious contusions.

  ‘Wait here, I’ll get some paper.’

  She had no idea where to look for paper or tissues – except of course Irma’s handbag. But it felt inappropriate to turn Irma’s sacred talisman over to the man whose indecent assault would demand substantial recovery time. Out of the corner of her eye, Siiri saw Anna-Liisa trying to calm the ever-more agitated Irma at the card table.

  ‘What if we tried to name the Finnish market towns from the 1970s? Do you remember how it begins, Irma? Alavus, Anjalankoski, Espoo, Forssa . . . Clap your hands rhythmically like this, it serves as a mnemonic device.’