The Living

by Anna Starobinets

  I thought: I’d like to hide under a mask like that too.

  He sat down next to me and said, ‘I know that you don’t like hearing that there is no death, that Hanna didn’t die, because her incode is eternal, that in nine months’ time she will be born again inside some little baby, that eternal rebirth is the secret of the Living…’

  He said, ‘I’m not going to tell you all that again.’

  He said, ‘Let’s discuss this like grown-ups. But to do that you’re going to have to calm down and stop wiping your snot everywhere.’

  So I stopped. For the first time since I had been told that she would not be coming back, I washed my face and brushed my hair. And got ready to listen. I thought that he would tell me that there was no reason to hope. That I was right, that there was no point in them comforting me, that she was no more… I wanted him to take away my hope. The hope which they had, despite themselves, planted in me, the hope they tortured me with every day. The hope that she would come back. With a different face. In a different body. I thought that he would tell me: life goes on without her. I was ready to accept it.

  But he told me something else. He said, ‘You have DCIV. My condolences.’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Gopz. I haven’t got an incode at all.’ He stretched his mirrored lips into a smile.

  ‘Gopz… But I like you, kid. Don’t be scared.’ The corners of his mouth slowly slunk back. ‘If you like I can read the note on your medical records.’

  I nodded. He started right away, without a pause – his connection was excellent.

  ‘“…Intensely expressed negative emotions in regard to pause of his biological mother. Multiple episodes of paradoxical grief. Outbursts of aggression. Attacks do not respond to standard unit of therapeutic methods…”’

  He gave off a measured buzzing and I thought: I wonder if he closes his eyes, there, behind his mirrored muzzle? Probably not. Definitely not. Why should he? Of course he doesn’t close them. He’s a planetman after all. They say they can hold five layers… Or is it six? I wonder how many layers they can hold. Hanna held three with no effort, she had a great memory. I could have taken pride in that, but instead it saddened me. It’d have been better if she shut her eyes, like all normal people. In third layer most of the messages that came to her were about me and I’d have preferred not to see her glassy gaze. It would have been better if she’d shut her eyes. I wonder, before she… did she close her eyes? And what exactly happened there? A pill? An injection? Some sort of gas? An electric shock? Later, after the pause, after the Five Seconds of Darkness, no one remembers how exactly it happens… But everyone is sure that it doesn’t hurt.

  It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt.

  She wasn’t in any pain. They told me: she wasn’t in any pain…

  ‘“…emotional condition could be classed as not conducive to the harmony, peace and integrity of the Living. Likely presence of destructively criminal incode vector (DCIV). Provisional potential threat coefficient (PTC) of 7, which matches the PTCs of persons with DCIV, observed over a period of more than five reproductions…”’ He broke off. Something in my expression probably confused him. ‘If you don’t understand something, ask. You’re only nine, but this is a grown-up conversation.’

  ‘How did it happen?’ I asked.

  ‘How did they calculate the coefficient? It’s simple. They take…’

  ‘No. How did it happen, the… pause? You’re a planetman: you must know?’

  ‘Of course I know. And you know too: it doesn’t hurt.’

  I wanted to scratch his mirrored mask with something sharp. So that there would be a screech: metal on glass. And blood would come out of the slash.

  He stood up and took a couple of steps back, as if he’d guessed what I was thinking.

  He buzzed:

  ‘I would like to hear questions that are relevant. Relevant to our conversation.’

  I suddenly got bored.

  ‘No questions. I understand.’

  ‘What do you understand?’

  ‘They think I’m a criminal.’

  ‘No. Absolutely not!’ Judging by his gestures, he was talking very animatedly, however, the buzzing remained just as sleepy. ‘Having a destructively criminal incode vector is not a crime. People with DCIV are not criminals. That’s very important. What’s also important is that some of those people with DCIV – most of them – would immediately become criminals if the Living did not look after itself. It is thanks to this constant care that you’re being sent to a House of Correction for people with DCIV.’

  I get a ticklish feeling in my stomach, as if someone is stroking me on the inside with a cold little paw.

  ‘Is it forever?’ I ask, but it sounds more like a confirmation. The paw starts wriggling again.

  ‘…I’ve been sentenced to life imprisonment?’

  ‘Three mistakes straight off in such a short question. For one, DCIV is not a sentence. It’s more like a diagnosis. A warning sign. You can work on it, it can be fixed. That’s why it’s called a House of Correction. No one’s being punished there, there are no prisoners, there are correctees. They are provisionally innocent and working on staying that way in the future. And finally, imprisonment for life… That’s just a joke! What can be for life in your eternal life? I hope that everything’ll be sorted after the first pause.’

  The first… I suddenly wanted to bite him. Hard, so I could hear the crunch of his shattered bone.

  ‘You think I don’t know that my first pause is probably going to be my last? Why are you lying? Don’t you know who I am?’ I almost shouted. I think I stamped my foot.

  ‘No one knows who you are,’ he buzzed calmly. ‘I don’t know either. But I do know something else. If you don’t want your first pause to be your last, if you want to stay with the Living, then your anger is unacceptable. The Living is full of love, and every part of him loves every other part equally… You have fifteen minutes to gather your things. You will be picked up. I’ll come and visit you every week. There is no death.’

  The Man with No Face

  ef: no death

  cleo: glap you’re here! why didn’t you reply i was worried

  ef: sorry

  cleo: ok you coming in?

  open cleo’s cell

  ef: enter cleo’s cell

  cleo: you like it?

  ef: yeah of course it’s nice here

  cleo: no i mean the dog you remember it was you who sent me the link so i hooked myself up a dog

  cleo has updated her status: dog-owner

  she’s already learned to get excited when guests come look how happy she is that you’ve come do you like her?

  ef: i don’t know

  probably

  have you ever seen real dogs?

  cleo: no

  oh well fine you don’t like her…

  all for nothing

  it’s a really interesting program you can train her the dog can learn twenty commands and then if for example you give her a bone then take it away she bites you it’s really funny

  want to give her a bone?

  ef: no

  cleo: fine i’ll do it myself

  command heel

  command chew bone

  tell me about it

  ef: what?

  cleo: you know

  in socio there was an announcement that zero stopped living

  you were with him

  tell me about it

  ef: why do you want to know?

  cleo: come on please i want to know

  ef: he set himself on fire

  cleo: but are you ok?

  ef: yeah got a little burned but nothing too bad

  cleo: is it true he didn’t get reproduced?

  ef: it’s true

  cleo: fofs! and that they’re closing his file now?

  ef: that’s classified

  cleo: ok fine

  ef: why do you ask?

  cleo: you know it’s just

  ef you’re wei
rd somehow

  are you sleeping alright?

  ef: yeah and you?

  cleo: me too

  what do you dream about?

  ef: i have bad dreams

  cleo: like what?

  ef: about animals probably cos of your dog

  by association

  cleo: and what do the animals do?

  ef: should i tell you the dream?

  cleo: ok then

  ef: in my dream i’m at a farm

  it’s dark i can’t see anything i feel my way but i know that it’s a farm because they are screaming they’re frightened i feel their fear i’m frightened too the thing we’re afraid of is here at the farm

  it’s alive

  i have to find it i know it’s hiding in one of the cages

  i feel for the iron bars with my hands until i find the right cage

  i just know it’s there behind the bars

  it’s quiet it isn’t screaming

  in my hand i’ve got a key

  i have to open the door and go in inside

  i turn the key in the lock…

  cleo: no don’t go in

  ef: i have to

  cleo: ef it’s just a dream

  you shouldn’t go in there

  you’re probably sleeping in an uncomfortable position got a crick in your neck or something

  that’s why you’re having nightmares

  try and move or say something out loud in first layer so did it work?

  ef: yes thanks

  cleo: they say that dreams are memories from your past maybe you once looked for something on a farm in a different reproduction

  some sort of violator

  ef: yeah could be

  cleo: you were a planetman before weren’t you?

  ef: and what do you dream about?

  cleo: you such a strange dream

  it’s like me and you are in first layer at the festival in the reproduction zone…

  we’re not wearing any clothes

  not even contact underwear or gloves you’re hugging me from behind

  and it’s nice

  weird right?

  ef: what’s weird?

  cleo: you know that in dreams strange things like that can seem nice

  skin to skin

  without contact underwear

  i can’t even imagine it!

  sometimes even with underwear i feel awkward

  ef: you don’t like festivals?

  cleo: of course not who does?

  i mean what normal people

  it’s too rough

  physiological

  of course you need to put up with it for the sake of the living

  but liking that sort of thing when you’ve got access to luxury?

  do you like festivals?

  ef: no of course not

  but it is our duty

  cleo: ok let’s not talk about duties now

  i’ve got altogether different plans

  connect to luxury…

  invite user ef to participate in an act of luxury…

  invite other friends to participate in this act? yes no

  cleo: come to me

  i’ve missed you

  ef?

  ef: the dog… i don’t like it when she’s watching

  cleo: oh sorry

  temporarily turn off dog app

  invite user ef to participate in an act of luxury…

  come on ef!!!

  ef: accept invitation

  Cleo

  NB! This entry should not be read by those under the age of 12.

  Dog freezes with an expression of shocked reproach on her face. But then she disappears, and at the same time all her accessories are deleted from the cell: bowls, bones, toys, little rugs, a medal, her lead and her collar… It’s like she was never even here. I tell myself: as soon as he leaves, I’ll reconnect with saved settings. Dog won’t understand anything, she’ll think she just fell asleep then woke up. But all the same I feel bad. She’d already got used to it here. It’s like I’ve kicked her out…

  But I’ve got to be easy-going. Especially now. Ef is losing interest in me. He never responds to my approaches, doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t trust me anymore.

  They say that there’s no better way of getting close to someone than in luxury mode.

  They say that there’s no better way of getting to know someone.

  His fantasies are usually as simplistic as he is. In the early stages he liked chasing me, he liked to feel like he was pursuing me. He creates something like a jungle for the chase, with long, moist inviz-coloured plants. He puts me in a tacky short ‘busy’-coloured dress. I agree to be the victim, to be pursued, and run from him through the ‘jungle’. I part the grey stalks with my hands, they’re slippery and cold and dead – but I breathe life into them. I paint his dull jungle in the brightest shades of ‘I’m feeling lucky’. I fill his plants with warm, sticky moisture, I make them move, make them wind round my naked legs and creep up under my dress.

  The slippery stalks stroke me as I run… Ef is getting closer, I can hear him breathing hoarsely, he shoves me and I fall down face first. He turns me onto my back and tries to push my legs apart but I squeeze them tightly together. So tightly that the stalks crawling between my legs snap – they’re filled with sticky moisture. He leans over me and I look into his mirrored mask…

  I never see his face. Not just in luxury – never at all. In first layer he has to wear the mask the whole time, but that doesn’t really matter, we hardly ever meet in first layer. What matters is that he doesn’t have a face in any layer. He has that same mirrored mask in socio. It’s a mystery. Even if you assume that his face is deformed, in socio he could choose any user pic.

  What would you have to be like to wear a mirror mask in all layers? What would you have to be like to dress strictly in inviz not only in first layer, but in socio too? What would you have to be like to turn your socio cell into this copy of a standard first-layer living quarters? I’ve been to his cell a few times. A bleak place. So bleak it’s as if there’s no socio at all… The first time I even tried to drink water from the tap. To check. Ef watched me and seemed flattered. He said, ‘This is my living quarters in first layer – an exact copy.’

  He said, ‘A real planetman’s cell should be strictly functional.’

  What must you be like to drag all the poverty and simplicity of first layer into a world where nothing is impossible?

  You probably have to be obsessed.

  …I never see his face, but in luxury, glap, I can choose what I see for myself. I can make a face for him…

  Luxury is one of the Living’s greatest socio-sacraments. A garden of delights in which the fantasies of every participant in the act let out shoots and blossom. They get woven together these fantasies, they grow into each other, become one… ‘Absolute unity – that’s what brings us joy,’ as it says in the socio settings. ‘In luxury mode you share all of the five senses you have access to with your friends.’

  It doesn’t say in the settings that luxury mode activates the part of the brain known as the nucleus accumbens. But I know something about it. As long as the act is going on, everything you see, hear, smell or touch with your tongue or skin, excites your pleasure centre.

  …I make a face for him. It’s different every time, once I even tried my own. He doesn’t see himself, but he can feel the transformation, he can feel that he is losing control over what is happening. Then he shakes off the face I’ve made, and takes me to a different location with a jerk. Normally it’s something like an abandoned building site or warehouses in some wasteland. Bits of stones, the rusted skeletons of cars, concrete blocks… Solitude. I’ve named this place the Wastes of Solitude. He leaves me there alone – to wait until he appears.

  In first layer (after the act I always check the chronometer in the settings) only a couple of minutes pass, but here in luxury it lasts a thousand days – that’s what his fantasy is, that’s his move,
and whatever I do, however much I try, I’m not able to reduce this period. Maybe it’s all because of the depression which takes hold of me in the Wastes, or something else, I don’t know – but here he’s always stronger than me. If I make any attempt to leave, to change the setting or wind time forward he responds the same way – he puts me back in the Wastes of Solitude. And starts the count again from zero.

  I wait for a thousand days. There’s nowhere for me to go, nothing to think about and no one to talk to. I can’t invite any of my other real friends to visit me in the Wastes – Ef only likes luxury for two, and group acts are blocked in his settings. Sometimes I create phantom friends for myself in the Wastes. Ef doesn’t touch them, doesn’t react, but I soon cancel them myself anyway. They always end up somehow flat and boring, with indistinct narrow faces, with movements that aren’t quite right and a wooden gait. They give voice to my thoughts with my words, they seem to me like hungry ghosts, heralds of my madness. I cancel them and wait for Ef. I’m powerless. I only have one way out – leaving luxury mode, one-sided termination of the act.

  Only once, on one of the first times, did I do it. I broke off the act. Ef was furious. He left and didn’t appear in my cell for a few months. He said that he couldn’t bear it when the act was broken off without his knowledge… With arguments, pleading and promises I tempted him back. I swore that I’d be a good girl from now on. That I’d never break off the act. That I’d wait for him in the Wastes of Solitude. What else did I have left? Luxury is the best way to get close to someone. Luxury is the best way to draw out someone’s secrets.

  I wait for a thousand days. I sit on my haunches and I am filled with a sadness that’s so penetrating that it’s nice even. I am alone. My phantom friends tell me, ‘You’re alone here, Cleo.’ ‘You can’t carry on, Cleo.’ ‘You can’t stand this any longer.’ ‘This is torture.’ I close my eyes. I pray, I dream about this monster coming quicker. He is my saviour, my hope, my reward. I’m waiting for him. I can’t carry on without him. On the thousandth day he comes, and I let him do whatever he wants to me. He is my lover. My saviour. I am happy to do anything, as long as he stays with me.