Clone City

Ord felt gutted. He read the letter again.

It informed him that he was no longer required to report for work. Although he had been trained as a Carer, most of his working life had been spent at the Hub. The Hub was his life. How, he wondered, could he cope with all the free time he had on his hands? Who was there to meet when all his mates were working? The first few days were a welcome rest, but now he was just kicking his heels.

He looked at the letter again: its plain print, its matter-of-factness, its brevity, its total lack of any sympathy or recognition of responsibility, the absence of any mention of the future and the illegible signature at the bottom made him slam it down on the table. He decided to go out for yet another walk.

He tramped the empty streets, reflecting on how much he had changed in the last few weeks. One good thing, he thought, was that he did not have the blinding headaches anymore. He couldn’t think why they had stopped, although he was mighty glad they had. He wondered if it had anything to do with not having to stack boxes anymore. He also realized that he was no longer citing the slogans. It had gone quiet inside. He felt different. It was like he knew he had a past because he had memories, but somehow they did not seem to belong to him. They seemed to belong to someone else. He shook his head. He felt as if he had broken free of something, of an earlier self, or… He didn’t know; just felt better, but empty. And when he slept, he was dreamless.

Looking up, he noticed that the sky was overcast and rain threatened. He turned his collar up and increased his pace to burn off the frustration he felt at having nothing to do. As he turned a street corner, he stopped in his tracks. It was that servicer – Eva.

She was seated on a pink bench looking at the palms of her hands. Ord hesitated. He wondered whether he should speak. The last thing he wanted to do was to burden her with his problems and he did not know if he could trust himself not to. But before he could decide, she had noticed him.

He stepped forward, his head bobbing up and down, and said, ‘I thought it was you.’ It occurred to him that she might have forgotten him. ‘Do you remember me?’ he asked awkwardly, remembering his non-performance.

‘Yes,’ she said and looked away as if he had intruded upon her thoughts.

Ord was on the point of leaving, feeling he was in the way, when she said, ‘Did anything ever come of that C80? You know, you said you filled one in?’

Ord sat down. As he did so, the plastic bench sagged. He sat slightly apart from her, but stared into the same empty space as if this was all they could share.

‘No. Nothing,’ he answered after a while. ‘That’s why I’m here now, just wandering around, killing time.’

‘No work?’ Eva asked.

‘Yeah. No more work.’ He noticed her hair was turning black at the roots and that she was, as he’d thought, Asian. Without make-up, he noticed her smooth, wheat-coloured skin. As she seemed lost in thought, Ord thought it best to say nothing but no longer felt he was intruding.

Eva was wondering how much longer she could carry on doing what she was doing. She was wondering if she could ever come out the same as she went in. She tried to follow the advice of those around her. It’s only a job, they said. It’s good money. Don’t think about it so much, it’s just like any other job really. Bit like caring for adults. It’s sex therapy, they said. But then they’d been trained as Sex Servicers; she hadn’t. She’d been a Carer. She felt it was changing her, making her cold somewhere where once she’d been warm. She loved the darling faces of the children at the nursery. Now she was being told to go through the motions like a true servicer. But it was tearing her Carer heart apart. She felt scared. Some of the men were horrible. She felt she was being carried away on a dark tide.

After a while, she spoke: ‘It’s just that I been wondering whether to do the same. You know, fill one in.’

Ord looked across. He noticed she was tangling and untangling her fingers. ‘I wish I could say it would help, but I got no answer. It’s done me no good. But then, what do you want to tell them? Maybe they’ll listen to you.’

‘I want my job back, that’s all.’

‘At the nursery?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Do you want to walk some?’ Ord asked, seeing her lips were trembling. ‘It’s getting kind of cold. I know a place does a good soup. If you feel, you know, like…eating.’

Eva looked at Ord. It was getting cold. She’d forgotten how long she’d been sitting there. The wind had turned chilly. Maybe a hot soup would be good. She remembered he’d been a Carer, too, once. Maybe he wasn’t like all the others. She got up.

‘All right,’ she replied, hardly looking at him and so softly her voice was lost on the wind.

As they walked along the deserted streets, Ord talked about what he’d been doing, or rather not doing, ever since he had been laid off work. While he talked, Eva also felt she wanted to talk. To tell it all. To unburden. To tell the unwanted what she wanted. To tell him all about what was going on in her mad head, day in day out. But then she thought, better not, lest it turn into a muddle and he thought she was going individ. Who was he, anyway? For all she knew, he might be like all the rest. And wasn’t that just it? Her feelings about men were changing. And was it any wonder, if all she ever did was suck off every stranger who came to the parlour? Old Joe would say, ‘Oh, it’s only servicing.’ And then, ‘But it’s got to be good service,’ wagging his finger in her face.

She looked up when Ord said all his workmates shunned him. She noticed how his light brown hair was greying and how deep the lines on his face were etched.

‘I’m an outcast,’ Ord continued, looking across at her. ‘For all anyone cares, I may as well be Out there.’

Eva felt shocked. She was on the point of asking him what in the Codes he was thinking, but stopped. She knew if they did not want him at the Hub anymore and they still hadn’t found work for him, he would be junked as soon as you could say Dovan the Great. She hoped they would find him a job.

‘Do you think you’re going individ?’ she asked, averting her eyes as soon as she said it.

‘I don’t know. But something’s changing. Inside me. I don’t find answers in the slogans anymore. It’s like I…have to make sense of everything. It’s not easy. I feel empty, like I got nothing to think back to.’ Ord stopped, not knowing what else to say.

Eva looked away. Poor sod, she thought and started to tell him about her life in the nursery. As they talked, the wind blew harder and they drew closer to better hear each another. They carried on till, turning a corner, a strong gust took them by surprise and they found themselves huddled together, bracing themselves against its blast. How and who had done it, Ord didn’t have time to think, but somehow he thought he may have crooked his arm or Eva had put hers through his, but, whatever...he knew they were now walking arm in arm. Suddenly, he felt a wave of warmth course through his veins. He could hardly believe that such a simple act could have such an effect. It made him realize how lonely he had become. None of his workmates spoke to him anymore. It hurt. And now this touch meant so much more.

He stole a look at Eva. He wondered if there wasn’t something special about her. Maybe there was something inside her trying to get out, too. ‘She’s beautiful,’ he heard himself say and was immediately puzzled at the thought.

Soon they reached the tiny restaurant he liked to visit. They bundled in out of the cold wind. They ordered several small dishes and asked for the noodles to be brought last. As they ate, they talked.

‘Where do you live, Eva?’

‘You know the parlour? Well, the lane to the left goes around the back and there’s a few huts there. Mine’s a lean-to that’s a faded blue.’

‘Handy for work,’ Ord said and could have bitten his tongue off there and then. Hurriedly, he carried on: ‘It used to take me about forty minutes to get to the Hub. The walkways were always packed.’

‘So where do you live?’

‘District 5. You know it?’

‘No.’

‘That doesn’t surprise me. There’s only dormitories there.’

‘What, no shopping precinct?’

‘Nope. Nothing but dorms. That’s why I used to stop off at your district, the Old Bio, and then walk on home.’

‘What do you do now you’re not working?’

‘Walk a lot,’ Ord replied, managing a laugh.

‘Why don’t you go and see some movies or something?’

‘Well, I would but… I still get an allowance, you know. But I don’t have as much money as I used to. I eat out a lot and read stuff, but when you’re not working, you don’t need to play. I don’t go to the parlours anymore. Don’t feel like it. Strange. When you work, you need to play. I dunno, it’s all kinda back to front.’

Ord paused to look around. It seemed to him there were an odd bunch of customers there. One very fat man was squeezed behind a table making it, as well as the chair he sat on, seem disproportionately small. In the other corner was his exact opposite – a man as thin as a hatchet. The third customer was opening and shutting his mouth like a fish. Looking back at Eva, Ord saw her smile. She must have been thinking the same. What a perfect smile, he thought, as they chuckled behind the steam from the bowls of rice they had raised to their mouths.

In between great mouthfuls, Ord spluttered: ’Yeah, I used to meet me mates ’n have a drink and ’n stuff ’n it was good, s’pose. But now I don’t. Everything feels different. Can’t put a handle on it, but enough about me. What d’you do in your free time?’

‘Well, I go shopping. I like shopping. Don’t always buy things. Just like looking, picking at things. Go to the movies. Like sitting in the dark and getting lost in a good movie.’ Ord smiled and pushed a small dish of boiled chicken toward her, gesturing her to take the last slice.

‘Do you have anything you like to do?’ Eva asked.

‘Well, like I said, everything’s changed so much. But I like watching…’ Ord paused a moment, ‘the sun rise and set.’

‘Yeah?’

‘It’s the colours and the stillness I like.’

Eva carried on eating, watching him but betraying no sign of dismay or any great interest.

‘I guess it sounds kind of crazy but it’s beautiful.’

Eva thought of the first Carer slogan – Caring is Sharing – and wondered if Ord had already gone individ.

‘I think,’ Ord said, ’it’s ’cos I find it hard to understand a lot of things that up to now I just…accepted. So now, I try to keep it simple. It’s like I don’t want my head full of questions.’ He gave a shrug. ‘A lot of things just don’t mean the same anymore.’

‘Like what?’

He paused. ‘Well...like the slogans. They don’t fit anymore.’

Eva stirred uneasily in her chair.

Just then two bowls of hot noodles were placed in front of them. As they slurped them up, Ord thought he’d better not talk too much about what he was going through. He wondered if he weren’t going into overdrive trying to cope with cold stares and turned backs. Maybe he was that man, grasping at straws, hoping beyond hope, creating his own reality, till he could not tell which was real – mind or world.

But what he saw now, he thought, as he raised his eyes and saw Eva chewing on a slice of soft pork, were coral pink lips, alluring almond eyes and a woman who was not what he’d imagined. He wanted to put out his hand to pull back the long half-blonde black hair that covered one side of her face. Not daring to, he smiled shyly and looked back into the steam rising from his soup.

Eva felt better. Maybe it was the walk, maybe the soup...no definitely the soup, she thought. And, looking across at Ord’s pale face, she thought, maybe I’ve found a friend, even if he is odd. And Codes, do I need a friend! Looking past him, she noticed the time. ‘Is that the time?’ she asked. ‘I’m going to have to hurry.’

Ord looked at the steamed-up face of the digital clock. It was coming up to five. They finished off their noodles, split the bill, and parted outside the tiny eating place.

Ord returned home, feeling as if he was walking on air. It seemed to him the best thing that had happened to him for a long time. If what he was seeing was true, he warned himself. Before she had headed back to work, (poor Eva, he thought, remembering how her face had dropped) he had stood awkwardly and she had put out her hand and touched him lightly, just like she had done that time at the parlour. It’s the small things, he thought, that show the feelings. ‘Friends,’ she’d said. And he had smiled. He wondered how long it would be before they met again. He wanted to know more about her.