by Carme Torras
“ROBco will help us record the signals.”
“Information: Dr. Sus Cal’Vin has told me that you must contact her before we start.”
When she hears Xis’ mom’s name, Celia’s heart leaps and she looks around as if the others should have recognized the name too. But no. Leo only instructs the robot to make them comfortable in the recording booth, as he’ll be right back.
She feels an instinctive rejection of the intruder who has whisked Leo away from her. Since she found out about it at school, this coincidence has bothered her. Things would only get worse if she were to feel the robot’s metallic hands on her, rather than those of the young man. She would even prefer those of a disheveled old genius.
ROBco adjusts the recording chair and, with exquisite precision, places a helmet covered with spikes on her head, clearly demonstrating that it’s been trained to avoid all physical contact. Celia had been so worried about all this a moment ago and in the end she doesn’t even notice it, she’s so focused on covertly watching the engineer, who’s talking pretty fiercely, as if he were defending himself. The distance prevents her from hearing what they’re saying and from clearly outlining the red patch on the monitor, but she can sense that there’s a problem and she could swear it has something to do with her. While the robot presses buttons and pulls out antennas, she wonders how to create a good opportunity to ask about it.
As soon as he enters the booth, Leo notifies them, in a falsely routine manner, that Dr. Cal’Vin will supervise the whole session remotely, in accordance with the wishes of the president of the company, and will keep a copy of the parts that she feels it would be convenient to show him. He imagines they don’t see that as any kind of inconvenience.
“Why would we? Isn’t it normal practice?” says Lu, taking an interest.
“In the case of a minor, yes; it’s necessary to provide proof that their rights haven’t been violated. As you can see, CraftER always goes about its work with total guarantees.”
Lots of guarantees, but she’d never felt she was in such a bad situation, thinks Celia, at the mercy of strangers. All this stuff about being watched over all the time for her protection is becoming insufferable, and it’s really annoying when they use her age as an excuse. Who do they have to protect her from? Leo? She thought she’d practically be alone with him, subject only to Lu’s inattentive gaze. And now she’s found out she’ll have to suffer not only the implacable company of the robot, but also the general surveillance of Xis’ mom. She could at least have deigned to show her face.
Without thinking, she’s allocated a face to the woman, complete with sunglasses, those unpleasant ones that don’t let you see the person’s eyes. Like Mrs. Pia’s. She had never known if the cleaning lady was scolding her because she’d dirtied the stairs just after she’d mopped or if she was just telling her to be careful not to slip up. But that image doesn’t quite fit in today’s world. Suddenly she realizes she hasn’t seen anyone wearing glasses, dark or not. It’s hard to believe it’s taken her so long to notice.
Leo appearing by her side cuts this worrying short, and almost cuts off her breathing too when she sees his hands coming toward her face … but they go right past and land softly on the helmet she’s wearing. Her shock must have been obvious, as he’s quick to make it clear that the helmet must be well fastened in order to be able to adjust the sensors to the distinctive features of her brain structure. That’s the first thing they’ll do: run a series of tests so the nanosensors can stabilize themselves. As the process will last a few minutes and is undetectable to the user, who doesn’t feel or notice anything, Leo uses the time to explain the tests they’ll do next.
Celia glances over at Lu, expecting her agreement, but finds her more interested in the robot working with the instruments than in anything else. She’d like—but at the same time wouldn’t like—her to pay more attention. Her mother would certainly never have taken her eyes off her, even for an instant, but right now she almost prefers to be left to her own devices.
Leo has sat down next to her and has started giving her instructions. At the same time as the stimuli appear on the screen, she has to give as many answers as she can. If there are unfinished drawings, she has to complete them in as many ways as possible; if objects appear, whether they’re familiar to her or not, she has to imagine all the different ways they can be used; if there are situations of conflict, she has to give the maximum number of solutions. The young man’s hands are still, but his eyes are widening just like Celia’s. She’s giving him all the attention she’s capable of, and a little more.
Once the preliminary test is completed, the stimuli start to appear. The first one is a rod with a ball on the end. She has no idea what it’s for, but it reminds Celia of her grandmother’s cane, and then a pin with a giant head and, upside down, a hammer, a golf club, and the stick things jugglers throw up in the air, one of those pipettes they use in laboratories, a spinning top, a circus performer’s torch …
“Should I continue?”
“Yes, yes, until you can’t think of any more uses. I don’t know what half the things you’re saying are, but you can tell me later. The most important thing is that the signals are saved while you’re thinking.”
Having him so close to her is distracting, and she has to make a huge effort to concentrate on the stimuli and not stop answering. Only very occasionally does she allow herself to look away from the screen and charge her batteries in the sparks she can discern in the young man’s eyes. During one of these brief diversions, right after having seen two lovers’ hands intertwined in four clumsily drawn lines, she can’t avoid looking down at his inert hand on the armrest and imagining her own flitting over there to interlace with his. She can almost feel the warmth, his fingers lightly brushing against hers, and she’s dying to bring it to her lips and kiss it. The tension she feels around her mouth makes her shiver, and suddenly she remembers that Xis’ mother must be watching them. Confused and suffocated she turns back to the screen praying that Leo hasn’t noticed anything.
She keeps going as best she can, wondering who she can confide in. This is too much for her to deal with on her own, but Lu, despite being present, won’t have noticed anything, and her mother won’t be able to answer her. She doesn’t really want to tell Xis either, now that her mother is mixed up in all this; maybe she’ll just tell her about that part of the day. She’d like to tell Silvana about it, but she’s come here behind her back and she doesn’t want to disappoint her by admitting that she ignored her advice. What a mess.
Seeing that her performance is decreasing, Leo points out that, if she’s tired, they can finish another day. That’s the best thing she could possibly have heard: the chance to come back, so, excitedly, she accepts right away.
On the way back to the aero’car, Celia dares to ask where his laboratory, or office, or whatever is, and the young man, pointing up, replies that it’s actually in this wing of the building, on the eighth floor; if it weren’t a private area, he could show it to them right now by going up that ramp. Being so close and then not being able to go there awakens a stronger interest in her, and she allows herself to hope that maybe, if she continues to collaborate, one day they’ll let her go in there.
IV
THE UNEXPECTED EVENT
20
She worked so hard to convince Lu to let them do a session at the ComU, and now that the girl’s finally here it seems to Silvana she’s not all that excited about the visit. She didn’t expect this. They’d talked about it so much and every time she was rewarded with a pair of twinkling eyes that communicated an enthusiasm for a dream they thought was practically impossible. And now that the dream has come true, all she sees are distracted, distant eyes, an empty gaze. Even turning around to look at Silvana seems to be a great effort. She’s not her usual self.
She must not let the coldness affect her, as she well knows the only way to turn the situation around is to keep her own spirits up. The girl’s visit was an important
milestone for her too, and she’s not ready to let it go so easily. She’d thought that just by walking around the communal facilities—the corridors full of people, many of whom stop to say hello; the library, with shelves and paper books; the arboretum and garden, the pride of naturalists and hikers—Celia’s previous life would be evoked for her, and some feeling that may not have reemerged yet after her long hibernation would virulently flower. But it hasn’t worked out like that. The girl is more absent than ever. Maybe it’s all just as alien to her as the school full of mannequins or the inhospitable yellow of a house you can only reach by aero’car. What to Silvana is an abysmal difference may be no more than a nuance for an unfrozen person.
It occurs to her that, before taking the girl to the office, they could drop by the Emotional Stimulation Zone. That would make an impact, forcing Celia to focus on her surroundings, especially if there’s a session running. With a little luck she might even tempt her to have a massage; that way she’ll be able to read in the girl’s body what she can’t figure out from her behavior.
They pass through the middle S of the ESZ’s holographic wall, as she always does, and sneak straight to the opaque zone so as not to disturb anyone.
“From here we can observe and hear them without them seeing us. The gas around us only lets the waves pass through in one direction.”
She doesn’t know if it’s the surroundings or the technical explanation that has pulled Celia out of her haze, but for the first time those eyes look at her without the distracted veil that has been present until now.
“What are they doing?”
“Do you remember I told you I was an emotional masseuse? Well this is where I do group sessions. That’s one of my colleagues. They’ve just started, do you want to join in?”
“Go out there … and leave this great spot?”
“No, dear”—the word vibrates on her lips after she’s said it—“I meant we could follow their instruction, but without moving away from where we are now.”
There’s a slight reticence in Celia’s eyes, and Silvana knows there’s a reason for it, though the girl doesn’t. She won’t take any risks, that’s what she promises herself to help her calm down: she’ll only read the girl’s emotions, without stimulating anything.
“Will I have to lie down like them while you give me a massage?”
“Only if you want to, of course. It’ll be a new experience, and you like those, don’t you?”
“Yeah …” She’s still not sure, inspecting the floor where she’d have to lie down.
“It’s pretty hard, isn’t it? It’s like that on purpose so you can feel every part of your body. We have to fight back against so much ergonomically correct furniture, all this anesthetic that’s around nowadays …”
She stops speaking mid-sentence when she realizes she’s started off on a lecture that’s totally out of place. She’s anxious. She’d imagined this would be incredibly difficult to achieve and now it’s within touching distance. Lying on the floor, barefoot like everyone else, Celia offers up her left foot just like she sees the others doing. Although Silvana’s massaged countless feet over the years, today her hands are shaking like a beginner’s. It’s normal, she tells herself, she’s never been faced with anything so small and tender. The soft, warm skin is completely different than the frozen, rigid soles Silvana is used to. Her pulse is beating strongly, all the way to the ends of her fingers as she places them on either side of the foot, ready to explore. Her extensive experience won’t be much help to her now: this is virgin territory and she’s not familiar with all its idiosyncrasies. Perhaps she won’t even be able to interpret what she reads in it.
Her panic, however, dissipates as her thumb advances: although it’s blurred, she recognizes the same sensorial structure as ever. It’s possible the parts linked to sight and hearing are a little smaller while smell, taste and, above all, touch are more extensive and intricate, but she’s not going to get caught up in this part right now, she wants to go straight to the deeper layers where the feelings live.
She doesn’t have time to get there because Celia, who’s been totally still and a bit tense the whole time, starts to wiggle around from left to right, until she breaks into unstoppable laughter. Silvana is so surprised she loses her train of thought, and almost loses her calm, since she’s so worried she’s hurt her in some way and is afraid they’ll become the center of attention. But no, she immediately confirms that the opaque zone has protected them flawlessly.
“Sorry.” The little girl has propped herself up on her elbows and her face is apologetic, with the added pathos of not being able to erase all traces of laughter. “It tickles.”
The word hits her like a bullet. Now she really doesn’t know where she is. If there’s one taboo at the ComU it’s mixing sex and massage, intimacy and professionalism, an especially critical barrier for Silvana, who’s always scrupulously monitored herself in this respect. Today she’s been taken completely by surprise: she’d never even considered this eventuality. Calm down, Silvana, this can’t possibly be happening: she’s just a little girl and you only touched her foot. Why is she talking about tickling? Maybe, without meaning to, she’s stimulated some unknown area?
“Don’t be frightened, sweetheart.” She invites her to lie down and relax again with soft gestures. “Have you laughed like that before?”
“Of course! I had tickling wars with my dad all the time.”
“With your dad?” She must have touched on some archaic practice. The sensory path is clear, now she needs to characterize the associated emotion. “Did you do it with anybody else?”
“No.”
“And you liked it?”
She takes a little while to answer, observing Silvana very seriously as if she is trying to evaluate exactly how specific her answer has to be.
“I liked to start the war, I provoked it myself … even though in the end the sensation became a bit, I don’t know, irritating. I really wanted it to stop, but I didn’t cry or get serious, I couldn’t stop laughing, I couldn’t help it. Now I think about it, it’s weird.”
Silvana is getting excited about the mine of emotions she has before her, this capacity to surprise oneself, and the girl’s attempts to explain every nuance leave her dumbfounded. She’ll do whatever it takes to get to the treasure the girl carries in her mind.
“I promise I’ll stop if it starts bothering you.” Once again she’s kneeling down at the girl’s feet and is very carefully holding up the left one. “Do you mind if we continue the massage?”
“Are you only going to touch my foot? Don’t people usually massage the back and the neck …?”
“Sometimes, yes. But that’s not my specialty.” The eminently sensorial zones don’t interest her at all right now. “If you want I’ll do them before we finish.” That’s the least she can offer.
For a while now, isolated in their bubble, they’ve ceased to be aware of the movements of the other people in the room, and now Silvana, without a second thought, skips the initial exploration connected to the senses and concentrates instead on the small recesses between tendons, which have a direct connection to the limbic system. It’s hard for her to decipher what she’s detecting, because a strong signal smothers everything. She’ll have to inhibit it in order to go any further, but the promise she’s just made stops her in her tracks. All the more so when she looks up to see the girl’s trusting face, giving herself over completely to the impulses of her hands. A shot of responsibility painfully oppresses her thumbs. She has the richest material imaginable at her mercy, but it’s also the most malleable; any action would leave a mark and she doesn’t want to hurt Celia in any way. But the reward is so large that it makes the risk seem small and Silvana’s will is shaken. Maybe if she analyses that smothering signal she’ll be able to find its origin, and then she could either eliminate it or take verbal action on the girl, avoiding contact stimulation.
The powerful signal has ramifications on most of Celia’s organs and
is conditioning the activity of her nerve tissue over a large radius. The impulses reverberate and echo in cycles. Silvana would classify it as an obsession if it weren’t for the atypical location and the lack of an anxious component. Everything points toward a recent experience, something positive, that has caused a huge impact. She wonders if it might have something to do with her; this would have made her happy, but no, just last week Lu canceled her session.
“What goes through your mind when I press here?” She knows that the likelihood of her confessing it is small, because there’s a voluntary blockage of the signal’s escape routes, but she won’t lose anything by trying.
“I hardly notice it. The truth is I’m a bit bored. You’ll have to explain what all this is for.”
Hurt by the comment and afraid that the girl will end up quitting their sessions, Silvana gives up on her ambition and opts for giving her a massage wherever she wants. With exquisite delicacy she explores Celia’s back and puts her heart and soul into triggering highly pleasing sensations. It’s been years since she did this, but she still recalls the technique and can remember which manipulations are most effective. Her hands slide everywhere, with special insistence on the base of the neck, happy to find such grateful skin, which bristles at the slightest contact and in no time at all takes on the perfect warmth. The pleasure comes and goes in a growing loop that reconciles them with one another, and even with the disparate worlds in which they must live.
When they come back down to earth, however, after spinning round and round in a shared spiral, Celia once again takes up that distracted stance, a little happier, yes, but just as incommunicative as before, and Silvana mentally prepares what she’s going to tell Lu when she comes to pick the girl up. No, not now, Celia will be offended if she asks to speak to Lu in private. She’ll call her, that’s what she’ll do, and she’ll ask if they did anything out of the ordinary last week. No, not that either. She must avoid being so direct: she’ll just stick to confiding to her that she’s worried, she’s seen that Celia’s mind is monopolized by something that is preventing her from being her normal self. Surely she’s noticed that for the last few days her daughter’s had her head in the clouds. Maybe it has something to do with that bioengineer who was investigating creativity? With a bit of luck she may be able to scare Lu enough that she keeps him away from Celia, and she will have killed two birds with one stone. The second one is the most important, of course, canceling that smothering signal and obtaining free passage to Celia’s deepest feelings.