The Vestigial Heart

by Carme Torras

  Some children shouting and murmurs of conversation can be heard from afar, which distracts some of the attendees, but not Silvana, who is concentrating on reliving what people must have felt when this ceremony was performed in the past. The strange mood, the scent of incense and the silence set off her imagination, and she shudders upon noticing an unknown spark inside of her. Baltasar, ever attentive, asks her if she feels alright, and she says yes, very quietly, so as not to interrupt any process that may have started up within her. She knows that this indiscriminate respect for one’s ancestors is not what she’s looking for, there are no filters here … but it’s similar. And, who knows, maybe with the right stimuli she will be able to uncover the underlying emotion, just as laughter brings happiness and not the other way around.

  As the chants fade away, so does the movement of people heading toward the altar with their offerings, and it finishes when the acolytes perform two complete bows and, amid a captivating quiet and stillness, they prostrate themselves at the old bearded man’s feet. Silvana feels a shiver down her spine, she’s moved by a bodily configuration she has never seen nor imagined, that is capable of making her hair stand on end without any form of physical contact. This time Baltasar’s interrogatory look is not met with a response.

  Once the dead have been honored, the living get their turn, eldest first. The officiator is first to receive a glass and a bowl from one of the acolytes, while the other encourages each of the attendees to offer food and drink to someone older than them, and then to accept the offering of someone younger. A lot of worried faces look around them in an attempt to estimate the ages of the others, and only find equally confused looks, until some festive music breaks the formality of the moment, and everyone starts to move around in what is now a totally relaxed environment.

  Baltasar and Silvana are still pretty far away from the table when Sebastian comes over to them holding a bowl of broth with little white squares floating in it, as well as meat, vegetables and a thinly sliced fried egg, the traditional ttokkuk, as he informs them. He’s also carrying two little sticks and a large glass of liquor in the other hand.

  “Sorry, young lady, but it would be rude to offer it to you,” he says, lightly brushing her cheek with his lips, before handing the bowl and glass to Baltasar.

  “Come on, get into the swing of the party, you fool!” Silvana exclaims, in an unconvincingly jokey tone. “To call someone old today isn’t an insult, quite the contrary, it’s an honor; haven’t you caught on yet?”

  “Excuse me, ma’am.” He takes both of her hands and kisses them. “Seeing you in such youthful dress made me forget that I had the greatest great-great grandmother before me.” He takes the bowl from Baltasar and offers it to her.”

  “Did it just come out like that or did you plan the bit about the greatest great-great grandmothers …”

  Sebastian is about to reply but Baltasar cuts him off:

  “Now that I’ve got you all entertained with your word games”—he puts his arms around their shoulders and gently pushes them toward a corner where they can sit down and eat—“I’ll take advantage and contribute to the ceremony while digging for useful information. You don’t mind, do you?” he adds, smiling at Silvana before kissing her, with his arms still around both of them.

  They’re silent for a few seconds, observing how several people come up to say hello to him as he walks toward the altar.

  “Maybe I should go and complete the ritual too, don’t you think?”

  Sebastian takes her arm and makes her sit back down.

  “Forget it, darling, there’s no need to be so strict about these things. You’re already making an offering to me, because I’m greater than you … and, therefore, wiser!” he says, winking at her in an attempt to get back to their previous conversation. “I’ll tell you a story you’re going to love.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “First try the food.” He hands her a pair of chopsticks. “Looks good, right?”

  After a few clumsy attempts, she decides to grab one of the white squares.

  “Mmmm, delicious, it has a texture like … is it made of rice?”

  “Impressive. Maybe you’ll convince me that your famous sensory stimulation works; not many people would have gotten that right.” He stares at her to get her attention. “If a Korean person were to ask you right now how many times you’ve eaten ttokkuk, what would you tell him?”

  “Is that a trick question? You’ll stop believing in stimulation if I mess up?”

  “That’s got nothing to do with it, woman; go on, take a risk.”

  “Once, I suppose … or never, because I’ve only just tried it.”

  “Whoever you’re talking to will wet themself laughing, or maybe they’d think you were making fun of them and be offended. They’re asking you how old you are and you’re telling them you’re one year old … or less!” Sebastian can’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry, that’s reminded me of the joke about the tourist who boasts about having climbed to the peak of the Himalayas ten or twelve times, and his friend, so as not to be beaten, tells him he knows he’s been too, but he can’t remember if it was once … or less.”

  All this hilarity doesn’t amuse Silvana.

  “And can you tell me what age has got to do with all this?”

  “That’s what I wanted to tell you.” He tries to make amends by putting on a serious expression. “The ttokkuk was only ever eaten on New Year’s Eve, and the polite way to ask a person’s age was to ask them how many times they’d eaten it. Someone told me earlier, when I went to get some, don’t think I’m all that wise. What I do know is that Korean people would celebrate their birthdays all together on this night, so … congratulations!” He raises his glass and holds it to her lips for her to drink.

  Even though it was only a tiny sip, the burning sensation in her mouth will last for a good while. “I wouldn’t know how to tell you what this potion is made of.”

  “Don’t worry, you’ve got plenty of years ahead of you to work it out.”

  “Here we go again! You’re obsessed, aren’t you? Are you really that worried about the passage of time? Or is it because today is the day to talk about it, and now you’ll bring up favorite old cliché, that one about how the older we get the more time flies …”

  “Cliché or not, there’s truth in it.”

  “It must be that we’re less bored every year.” Just as she says those words, she is ambushed by the thought that’s been obsessing her, that bodies and skin bore her. Perhaps everything will be different from now on, who knows, maybe she won’t be able to converse so lightheartedly.

  “You and your theories.” He’s also started eating from the same bowl, which is sitting between them. “It seems to me that when we were young we were impatient to achieve one thing or another, and it felt like we’d never get there …”

  “And have you already achieved everything you wanted to? I’m still impatient …”

  “You know what I mean, it’s not the same. Let me put it this way: The days fly by because we’re already familiar with every nook and cranny so we can move around without bothering about them too much, just like when you walk a well-known path, it feels shorter every time.”

  “You see, that’s something we agree on.” Being familiar with the nooks and crannies of the body helps her to tour around them in her mind automatically. “Routines prevent us from distinguishing one day from another, one body from another, therefore life passes us by without us realizing. It’s important to flee from routines, from bodies, then.”

  Their bowl of ttokkuk has been empty for a while when the boy who’s collecting them informs Silvana and Sebastian that they have to clear the area, which is next to an exit, as the dragon and lion dances will be starting soon. They will be scaring evil spirits away, and their retreat must be facilitated.

  “I suppose this short time must have felt really long for you, but for me …” He links arms with her and, before deciding which way they should
go, kisses her cleavage, which is so well highlighted by the silk dress.

  Taken by surprise, Silvana trembles, and, bit by bit, a smile dances across her lips, maybe seeing bodies bores her, but she’s still sensitive to certain kinds of physical contact.

  Walking slowly with their arms around each other, they head for an area that seems to be the source of shouts and general clamor. If they haven’t seen any children up until now, it’s because they were all concentrating on flying kites. The young adults, however, must have decided to celebrate the party outside of the ComU. The artistic beauty of the ceiling, a collection of shapes and colors outlined against a translucent surface and lit from above, contrasts with the confusion below. Kids of all ages, each gripping their string, are trying to bring down their neighbors’ kites. It’s the final battle. Silvana, surprised, realizes that some of them have stuck pieces of glass and metal to the kite to make their attacks more efficient and, indeed, when she looks down there are a fair number on the floor that have been taken down.

  She feels a tapping on her shoulder and, when she looks up, she sees Justina, a star student from the stimulation course, who now works organizing kids’ parties.

  “I’m shocked,” Silvana challenges her. “How come they’re allowed to be so violent? It’s against the rules.”

  “Not you as well … since this activity was proposed, that’s all I’ve heard. If we’re going to bring back a tradition, we have to reproduce it exactly as it was, right?”

  “Maybe you could have chosen something different …”

  “Look, things have changed, kids are different now than they were a few years ago.” She’s becoming so agitated by the topic that she’s turning red. “Look at them, to me it seems healthier for them to attack each other than to ignore each other, which is what they tend to do these days.”

  “What do you mean?” In order to match Justina’s gesticulations, Silvana lets go of Sebastian, who is paying more attention to the kites than the conversation.

  “The other day, at one of those previous-century adoption parties, I couldn’t get the kids to play together. They were all doing their own thing. I’d seen it before, but not this bad. They don’t even look at each other anymore!”

  “Tell me about it. I fight every day to make young people look beyond their bangs, but until now children weren’t so damaged.”

  “Maybe not babies, but the ones I had the other day …”

  “How old were they?”

  “Of course, they were older.” The girl looks relieved. “Thirteen.”

  “You mean to say they’ve unfrozen a thirteen-year-old boy?”

  “A girl.”

  “Animals!” As she says it an idea pops into Silvana’s head. “Listen, I’d like to meet her. How could I get in contact with her?”

  “I didn’t know you were interested in the unfrozen … If I’d known … the girl’s mother asked me to recommend a psychologist and I put her in contact with Amalia, but if you want …” Two little lads are calling over to her, brandishing their tangled strings.

  “I’ll talk to her myself, thanks. And if you hear about any other cases …”

  “I’ll let you know, don’t worry”—she practically shouts this as she walks away from Silvana to tend to the boys and calm them down.

  Baltasar must have been waiting for the conversation to end to jump in, because, without her realizing, he’s already between her and Sebastian with his arms around them just like before.

  “I’ve done it! A present for you, Silvana: next year we’ll have a Hebrew celebration. Since you’re so interested in distinguished Jews these days, I guess you’ll be very happy …”

  She feels rather out of place, not to mention Sebastian, but both of them allow themselves to be dragged along by this boundless torrent of energy and soon they’re standing before a huge window watching the fireworks that welcome the new year. A year in which, surely this time, they will stop the boomerang.

  12

  Even though she’s chosen to spend the big night at the gym, Lu has turned down the offer to compete in both the best proportions category and in the muscle mass/fat ratio category, not without a little regret, because last year she’d reached the final, and, this year, with the changes in the age categories, she feels she’d have a good chance of winning. But her daughter must come first. She wants to be there for her, introduce her to everyone, and see what everyone has to say on the matter, especially Fi.

  As soon as they’re inside, she sends ROBul to find a good spot for the four of them: “If possible, near the judges’ booth,” she orders. Taking care not to interrupt the girl’s game with her robot—what a stroke of luck, that they get along so well—she searches the room for a familiar face. There are more people than in previous years. She notices a little blonde girl, very pretty, whom she’s sure she recognizes from somewhere. She must be more or less the same age as Celia, maybe she’s seen her at the school, no, now she remembers: she’s the little princess she was so enamored with at the welcome party; in fact she’s the only thing she enjoyed about the event.

  Now she does interrupt the game to show her daughter who she’s found and, while trying to point out the exact place to Celia, she realizes who she’s with—she can’t believe it—it’s Fi! How has she managed it? She was so desperate, she might have asked someone to lend her their daughter, but who would have agreed on a day like today?

  She’s staring so much that her friend has spotted her and, judging by the gestures she’s making with her arm, she’s talking to her. And ROBul’s not back yet! She leaves Celia to one side and talks directly to the girl’s robot.

  “You, ROBbie, finally you’ll be of some use to me. Pick up what that woman is saying.”

  After turning his head left and right, up and down, in order to focus on the woman precisely, he plays back what she’s saying:

  “I’ve sent my ROB to find yours so they can find a spot for all of us. Have you heard from them?” Taking advantage of the pause, it turns and adds in its own synthetic voice: “ROBul has just sent me a signal with their location.”

  Celia has been watching this show in awe—she can’t work out how he could have picked out what the woman was saying from among so much noise and other conversations—but she saves the question for later, when they’re left alone. Now she has to be there for Lu, who, after telling the robot to show them the way, has taken her hand and won’t stop tidying her hair and dress, and stroking her affectionately the whole time, although that doesn’t prevent her from waving to people and introducing Celia to everyone who comes near them. She also asks about the blonde girl:

  “Have you seen her since the party?” she asks to hide her anxiety.

  Celia looks utterly confused.

  “Yes, every day at school, she’s my best friend.”

  “And how come you haven’t told me about it?”

  Lu squeezes her hand so tightly it hurts, making her even more confused.

  “I’m always telling you about Xis. Don’t you remember?”

  “Ah, yes, yes, sorry.” She tries to diffuse the tension. “I just didn’t know it was the same Xis who came to our house. And who’s her mom?”

  “I don’t know, I’ve never met her.”

  The spot they’ve ended up in couldn’t be better, next to the arena and overlooking the whole auditorium. Moments after they arrive, Fi appears and starts praising ROBul. All the pride Lu would have felt on any other occasion is turned into anxiety and, in an attempt to reinstate her daughter as the center of attention she deserves to be, Lu takes hold of her daughter’s shoulders and gently pushes her toward Fi until she’s standing right in front of her.

  “Here she is, my daughter.” It almost sounds like a challenge.

  “Yes, I’ve seen her. Hello, darling.” Hardly having taken a look at her, she turns toward the other girl and adds: “This is Xis; I thought you could entertain each other while your mother and I compete. I suppose you’re not yet … familiar with p
laying with ROBs.” She has to shout the end of the sentence in order to be heard over Lu’s protestations, who tells her to stop talking about things she has no idea about, by which she means the competition, and also Xis’ shouting, as she does want to participate and doesn’t intend to play the role of ROB for anyone.

  The rise in volume makes the respective ROBs draw closer in case they have to intervene.

  “We know each other from school,” Celia points out, surprised by the introduction, and, most of all, by the aggressive replies. “Don’t worry about me, I always have a good time with ROBbie.”

  Xis ends up getting her own way and manages to get Fi to hand over her registration, despite the committee’s reservations about the change of category. Accompanied by her ROBix, she happily heads off to the changing room to get ready, carefully watched over by Celia, who’s waiting for some kind of farewell gesture she can respond to.

  “It’s better to let her be happy. She gave her mother enough trouble this morning.” Resigned to not being able to compete, Fi lies down in a hammock next to Lu’s and selects the same relaxation and well-being sequence her friend has chosen.

  “Do you know the mother?” Now that the little girl’s not there, and while they’re waiting for the show to start, it seems like a good moment to clear up a few things.