Jaffle Inc

by Heide Goody

  “You’re crying.”

  “I can’t help it,” I said. “It’s like … heaven.”

  “Love Love Me Do, actually,” he said. “One more. I’ll play you a song from Abba.”

  This one had a female voice, no two female voices which blended together. Words about loss and sorrow made exquisite by being part of a melody, executed with such care. I started to howl with pain, tears running down my face. Helberg turned it off.

  “Let’s re-think this. We’ll need to introduce you to a little bit more every time. It will cause problems at the party if you spend all of your time crying.”

  “Yes,” I said, wiping my eyes. “Although I’m probably not going to the party at this rate. Work will fire me or have me imprisoned for arson.”

  “That fire wasn’t your fault.”

  “It sort of was,” I said.

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he said. “Tell you what. If you’re not arrested for arson, pop round again tomorrow and we’ll work on the music thing.”

  “And if I am arrested?”

  “I’ll visit you in prison. In the meantime…” He delved into a fridge. “More party food to practise with. You’ll love this one.”

  He went off to the kitchen and then came back with a small bag. He opened the top so that I could see inside. “Pizza! Try it and let me know what you think.”

  I sniffed and detected a curious mixture of bread and other delightful aromas.

  “Thank you.”

  ***

  Chapter 22 – 11th June – 8 days until Operation Sunrise

  I was summoned to work for an interview with Paulette.

  She was very brisk and business-like. I tried to make small talk about the mystery of Brandine’s bagel finally being put to rest, but she was aloof and silent as we walked from reception to one of the smaller closed offices used for meetings. There was a suited woman in the room when we arrived.

  “Alice, this is Estelle. She’s a senior human resources partner and she will be taking part in this interview.”

  I had no idea what a senior human resources partner did, but I nodded to Estelle.

  “Alice,” said Estelle. “It’s important that you understand that the outcome of this process will determine your future employment with Jaffle Tech.”

  “What process?” I asked.

  “The process we are currently carrying out,” said Estelle. I still had no idea what it was. “This review is to examine the events leading up to the fire which took place in the office, and the part you played in those events.

  I nodded again.

  “First things first, Alice. Do you want to make any statements to us concerning those events?” Estelle asked. “We will be watching the CCTV footage in a moment and drawing our conclusions from it. If you’d like to say anything to us before we do that, please go ahead.”

  I glanced at Paulette to see if I could get any clues as to how I was expected to react. Paulette was not looking my way. “Um, no, thank you,” I said.

  Estelle made some sort of gesture which started the CCTV footage rolling on the wall in front of us. I was slightly surprised to see it didn’t start in the staff kitchenette with me holding the bottle of thinners. I felt sure there was a camera which covered that part of the office. What appeared instead was the image of a bot trundling across the office and spontaneously bursting into flames.

  It was such a shock to see that I gasped out loud. Estelle paused the film.

  “Alice, I understand if this is difficult. Are you all right to continue?”

  I nodded and she re-started the film. As the bot moved more erratically, I appeared on the edge of the frame and I ran towards it. It looked very much as if I tried to put the flames out with my hands but burned myself. Then I tore off my tunic and used it to try and smother the flames. Moments later the film cut to another camera that showed me running over to Hattie and dragging her clear of the inferno her desk had become. Finally the sprinklers came on and we could all be seen evacuating the office. The view became slightly smudged by the droplets of water on the camera.

  Estelle turned off the film. “Well it seems that you displayed considerable initiative Alice. I hope you’ll accept our heartfelt thanks for averting what could have been a much more serious incident. I can see from the film you made several attempts to extinguish the flames with what you had to hand, and then you also helped others to evacuate the scene. We could all learn a lot from your quick thinking. Paulette, I hope you’re very proud to have such a resourceful young woman on your team.”

  Paulette nodded, although I could see from her face that she wasn’t quite ready to join the Alice fan club just yet.

  “Now, it’s likely you might need a few more days to rest and recuperate,” said Estelle. “Smoke inhalation and stress can sometimes cause delayed symptoms. We’ll make sure you have the self-care information sent to you so you can look out for them, just in case. Take your time deciding when you’d like to return to work. Otherwise, you’re a credit to the Jaffle organisation and you will be formally thanked in the quarterly staff celebration.”

  I smiled at Estelle. I didn’t trust myself to speak, as the film I’d just seen showed a very different version of events from the one I’d experienced. I wasn’t sure how much Paulette had seen on the day, but she didn’t look like a woman who believed in the story she’d just seen, either. I had no idea how the film had missed me causing the fire by damaging the bot and dousing everything in thinners. I had no idea how my misunderstanding of the word inflammable hadn’t come to light. I was astounded there had been no mention of the Smiley Tots being here only because I had made it unsafe for Hattie to have them at home.

  “There is one more thing we’d like you to do before you return to work,” said Paulette.

  “Yes?”

  “You are to report to Krasnesky.”

  “Levi?”

  She nodded curtly.

  I went to find Levi out on the office floor. The mess from the fire had all been cleaned away and everything was back to normal. It felt strange to be here again.

  Levi was with Hattie. She had a cubicle in a newer design, since the old one had been badly burned. Levi was showing her some pictures.

  “I reckon these might tide you over until you can get some more of those famous Tots of yours,” he said, holding them up.

  The pictures were of Smiley Tots, standing in a row with outstretched arms. He pinned them to the sides of the cubicle. The effect was startling. It really looked as though there was a crowd of Smiley Tots standing along the edge of Hattie’s cubicle, all wanting a hug.

  “They look almost real! That’s really good, thank you Levi,” said Hattie, beaming up at him.

  I was astounded at his kindness. I had to work hard to close my mouth as he turned towards me. His smile for Hattie disappeared when he saw me. He sort of packaged it officially away under that little moustache of his and swallowed it whole.

  “It’s time to watch The Film, Alice,” he said.

  I mentally rolled my eyes but, externally, managed to nod meekly.

  “You can watch in the usual place,” Levi said, leading the way. I saw Hattie give me a hard and hurtful look as we left.

  In the training room, I sat alone in an amphitheatre that could have held a thousand people. Levi spent a few moments setting it up before he dimmed the lights and left the room.

  It was an odd sensation seeing The Film again.

  Old Alice, the Alice who was bound by the chains of Jaffle Standard, was terrified of the film. The black and white horror of calamities and accidents of yesteryear. It was a dark amorphous nightmare. The fact that everyone just called it The Film showed we had all viewed it without comprehension, only digesting the frightening emotional content without grasping any deeper meaning.

  Now, as I watched the familiar content, new and not particularly subtle meanings were revealed. Hattie and I had always viewed it as being a compilation of misdemeanours, perhaps captured
by old security cameras. I realised this was a story. It was a story! How had I not grasped that before?

  It was about a man who had to find a bride by the end of the day or he would fail to inherit some money from a dead relative. It seemed an unlikely set of circumstances, and the very thought of it made me laugh. It was probably wrong to laugh at someone else’s misfortune but I couldn’t help myself.

  The man – the actor! (a quick jip revealed him to be one Buster Keaton) – tried to persuade passing women to marry him, but they were understandably sceptical of his clumsy advances. This made me laugh even more. I found myself wondering what the ideal solution would be. If he really needed the money, maybe he should advertise?

  I cheered the screen when his friend did exactly that. He put an article in the newspaper which immediately brought many women chasing after him.

  How had we missed all of this fun on previous viewings? Probably because we were too distracted by the violence.

  The chasing part had always tipped us over into a complete frenzy of dismay. Now I laughed out loud. There were hundreds of women, all somehow dressed up for a wedding, running through the street chasing the poor man. It was the most hilarious sight. They wanted to marry him and share in his fortune, but they looked terrifying, charging down the road, throwing bricks. They chased him in old-fashioned cars and trains, and he evaded them by taking the most shocking risks, nearly dying in lots of awful ways, but that just made it funnier. As I watched I realised my face was aching with all of the laughing, and there was a pain in my side.

  “Oh Hattie, I wish I could think of a way to explain this to you!” I howled.

  The chase moved out of the city and into some open countryside. The part where he ran down a hillside, chased by tumbling rocks made me gasp at the danger, but it was so funny I still couldn’t help laughing.

  When it was done, Levi returned. “I see it’s made you cry,” he said.

  There were indeed tears on my cheeks. I had laughed so hard that I had almost wet myself.

  “I hope it’s made you reflect upon how you should conduct yourself in the workplace,” he said solemnly.

  I wiped my eyes. “Levi, what’s this film called?” I asked.

  “It’s called Seven Chances,” he said. “But in reality we don’t always get that many chances at safety. You know that.”

  “Is there some more of this film?” I asked. “After this part here?”

  “I believe there is.”

  “Can I watch it please? I want to see what happens.”

  He looked at me with deep suspicion. “Why would you want to do that?”

  “Please?” I asked. “I want to be sure I learn all that I can from it.”

  He grunted, put The Film back on and left me to watch the end.

  I was thrilled to find after it seemed everything was hopeless, and the hero couldn’t possibly succeed in marrying his true love, he managed to do just that. It made me sigh with a curious feeling of satisfaction.

  I tried to compose myself before Levi came back into the room.

  “Well, I imagine you feel differently now, dontcha?” he asked.

  “Oh, I certainly do,” I said, wiping my eyes.

  ***

  Chapter 23

  The Film gave me a lot to think about.

  I had seen Buster Keaton’s silent film as horror because I – Jaffle Standard Alice – could only see the immediate physical danger it showed. But it wasn’t a horror film. It was funny and warming and ultimately uplifting and I wondered why.

  That evening, as dusk settled over the city, I walked the streets around the Shangri-La Towers apartment complex pondering this. I sat with the Empties by the roadside.

  “Why did I laugh at it?” I asked.

  Unsurprisingly, the Empty next to me didn’t respond.

  “You’d have laughed too,” I told her. “If you were allowed to understand it.”

  I flicked away a fly that was crawling on her lapel.

  “I think,” I said reflectively, “as soon as I realised the man wasn’t in any real danger – it just wasn’t that kind of story – then the things which should have been terrible became funny. It’s like getting a really big surprise and then realising it’s nothing bad. Like a dog chasing its own tail. And … in the end, a story in which everything seemed hopeless became suddenly filled with hope.”

  The Empty stared blankly ahead.

  “I thought you’d agree with me.” I stood up. “There’s always hope, isn’t there?” I said and went inside.

  Hattie was sat on the couch when I got to our apartment. She didn’t meet my eye. A partially burned Smiley Tot was clutched in her hands.

  “Oh Derek, I see Alice is home,” she said to the blackened ruin of the Tot’s face. “I wonder what chaos she’s been causing today.”

  I stood right in front of her and wagged my finger. “You are my friend,” I told her sternly. “You are my best friend in the whole wide world.”

  “Well, Derek, Alice has a funny way of showing people what—”

  “And I burned all your Smiley Tots and I feel really bad,” I went on.

  Hattie didn’t say anything, although she did glance at Derek as though they were sharing a look.

  “Recently I have been erratic and unpredictable. I’ve created mess and confusion and I probably seem like a completely different person. And I am! I have changed a lot in the past few days.”

  “You have,” she said, addressing me directly for what felt like the first time in ages.

  “But that’s not an excuse to set fire to your Smiley Tots.”

  “It isn’t.”

  “But…” I took a deep breath, trying to formulate a way of saying what I had to say next without upsetting her, and realising there wasn’t one. “But I don’t think Smiley Tots make you happy anyway.”

  She gasped, actually gasped, her mouth a perfect O. “Take that back!”

  “No. I don’t think you want Smiley Tots.”

  “I do!”

  “I think you want a baby.”

  Hattie frowned in deep confusion. “A baby…? As in…?”

  “Children,” I said.

  “You mean, little people?” She gestured to indicate smallness. Her hands moved up and down, as she was clearly unsure exactly how small children were.

  “Yes,” I said.

  Hattie was giving me another one of those looks which suggested I had well and truly gone off the rails. “You don’t see them so much around here.”

  “No,” I said. “But I saw some. In the art gallery. Pictures of babies, I mean. There’s this one called Jesus who’s in a lot of them. He has a shiny light on his head, although I don’t know what it’s for.”

  “But where are the real children?” asked Hattie.

  “Um – I don’t know,” I said, on the cusp of feeling stupid for pointing out Hattie’s need for children in her life without knowing where they had all gone. I gave myself a mental slap. At least Hattie was intrigued. “I don’t know where they are,” I said, “but we should find them, shouldn’t we?”

  “How?”

  “We ask Helberg.”

  ***

  Hattie and I sat side by side on Helberg’s squashy sofa, crowded in on all side by his junk and partially tinkered bot bits. He sat in a swivel chair and gave us both a smile. It was a slightly sad smile. I jipped my literacy booster and came up with the word wistful. It was a wistful smile.

  “How much do you remember about your own childhoods?” he asked.

  I’d asked myself the same question, and the answer was frustrating. “Not all that much. I remember studying for exams, and I remember Hattie and I have been together for a very long time, but I feel as though there’s a lot more that I can’t remember.”

  “Same here,” said Hattie.

  He nodded. “You probably spent a lot of time in the OneStop Daycare facility or the Nurture Hub or one of the other mega-crèches.”

  “Right,” I said. “Did I? Did we
?”

  He nodded.

  An idea was forming. “Does that mean it’s possible to go there and actually see children?”

  “I’m not sure it’s a place which welcomes visitors,” said Helberg. “Children are delicate things.”

  “Like Smiley Tots,” said Hattie.

  “Especially babies.” He inhaled sharply and leaned back in his chair, thinking. “But if you told them you were experienced nursery nurses looking for employment…”

  “Would they let us look round?” I said. “Meet actual babies?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Helberg,” said Hattie, folding her hands primly onto her lap.

  “Patrick, please.”

  “Patrick, I know you’re the building manager and the boss of the cleaning bots, but I don’t like you encouraging Alice like this. She’s clearly had a breakdown or something, and I can’t help thinking you’re making her worse.”

  “I’m fine, Hattie,” I said. “And this is a great idea.”

  “Is it?”

  “And I want to do it for you, because I think you’ll love it. Have you ever held a baby?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “Have you ever even seen a baby?”

  “What’s got into you?” she asked. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ve seen them in the distance or something. I can’t remember.”

  I grinned at her. “Come on! We’ve got a rest day tomorrow. Let’s go and see the children.”

  She gave me a dubious look. I could see she really wanted to, but this behaviour extended beyond the boundaries of what she considered normal.

  “Come on,” I said. “Tomorrow morning. We’ll go and have a quick look at a baby.”

  Hattie sighed. “Do you promise that you’ll be normal for the rest of the day if I agree to this? We’ll sit and eat our beans and watch Smiley like we used to?”

  “Yes, of course,” I said.

  ***

  Chapter 24 – 12th June – 7 days until Operation Sunrise.

  The OneStop Daycare facility was almost as big as Jaffle headquarters, but in a quiet suburb, up in the hills and far from the busy bay area. Hattie, Helberg and I went into the reception area.