Irma’s darlings had also told her about a game where one took tram rides both in the real world and virtuosically at the same time.
‘All I have to do is hold the tablet up and with a flick of the wrist I can look out at a view from the 1930s, while the tram itself transforms into a 1980s model. Do you see? Then I’m in this time, the 1930s, and the 1980s all at once!’
Anna-Liisa shot down Irma’s fanciful notions. ‘No, you’re not. You’re in the present day, Irma, regardless of whether you’re surrounded by a dozen gadgets and screens muddling your thoughts. If time even exists, that is. If you had had the patience to sit still and listen while I read you select excerpts from a novel written in the 1920s and set in the 1910s, you would have understood this concept. Would you like me to read more?’
Irma was stunned, and witnessing her friend’s profound disappointment made Siiri feel bad. After all, Irma had gone through a lot of trouble to learn her wondrous new way of spending Christmas, with her beloved children and grandchildren and dead husband joining her from Vietnam and beyond the grave.
‘Maybe we . . . Why don’t we revive our book club?’ Siiri suggested. ‘We could read together the way we used to.’
‘But not on Christmas Eve, I hope,’ Irma huffed, flinging her tablet into her bag. ‘It’s like casting pearls before swine.’ She pulled out the swede casserole and the ham and marched demonstratively into the kitchen to heat up their modest Christmas supper.
The moment they were alone, Anna-Liisa grabbed Siiri’s hand, squeezed it hard, and looked at her friend in anguish.
‘Help me, Siiri. I’m too tired to fight over Onni’s estate. The affair has taken on such bizarre dimensions.’
As Irma clattered needlessly loudly in the kitchen, Anna-Liisa unravelled the tangled mess for Siiri. Half of the heirs were suing the other half, and Anna-Liisa could no longer keep up with whether or not the suit involved her too. She had refused to hire a lawyer and appear in court. Her deepest wish was to rid herself of the entire estate, and in this the Awaken Now! Association had assumed a dismayingly active role. Any number of men in suits who took off their shoes at the door had been running in and out of her apartment, explaining how simple it was to transfer wealth in donation form to a not-for-profit charitable organization.
‘That curly-haired fellow with the bow tie is the worst of the lot. The other day he sat here so long that in the end I was forced to threaten him with the Day of Judgment and the fires of hell before he would leave. I haven’t been out of bed since, I’ve been so exhausted. Like Hans Castorp, even though I entered this place a healthy woman.’
‘How can I help?’ Siiri asked haplessly, as the rushing in her ears and aching in her head intensified.
‘I’m not certain myself. I just can’t do this alone any more. At first I thought I wouldn’t bother you with the matter, but during recent weeks everything has got so out of hand that it’s too much; it’s simply too much. You just sitting there and listening is a great help. Many things become clearer when you unburden yourself to someone else, don’t you agree?’
‘Yes, of course, but I have to say I understand nothing about quarrels among heirs. What I do understand is that this revivalist organization’s attempts to seize your property sounds immoral. Should we report them somewhere?’
‘Yes, but where? Don’t you think I’ve considered that already? This is a trap that has been carefully laid, this marvellous new Sunset Grove.’
Anna-Liisa had survived any number of travails during her lifetime. Sunset Grove did not have a single, clearly identifiable owner, as it was initially established with innovation funding from three ministries and then sold to an international conglomerate. But Awaken Now! wasn’t among the owners, and its link to the practical operations of the retirement home was ambiguous in the extreme. Both Siiri and Anna-Liisa knew it was highly unlikely that an international investment company and the other shareholders would be interested in the concerns of an elderly Finnish woman.
‘I suppose the only thing you can do is take each day as it comes. But let’s do it together, my friend.’
Anna-Liisa rewarded Siiri with a beautiful smile and continued to squeeze her hand. Her eyes grew a little moist, and Siiri felt a lovely warmth surge through her stomach. Just then, Irma came out of the kitchen carrying a tray she had laid prettily with three plates, three glasses of red wine, and two candles. Each plate held a serving of swede casserole and two slices of ham.
‘A bit of swede and a slice of slam, as I always say. Merry Christmas, you lovely dears!’ Irma’s eyes twinkled, and she raised her wine glass high like the Statue of Liberty and toasted Christmas. ‘Döden, döden, döden!’
Chapter 21
The pre-Christmas electricity outage proved to be more than just a scare for Sunset Grove. Many devices were addled afterwards and exhibited strange behaviour. No one was shocked to discover that the food mash appeared in random lumps instead of triangles and cones, that the daily religious sentiment didn’t suit the tenor of the day, or that the fridge spewed whatever silliness happened to pop into its head. But the fact that the caregiving robot Ahaba had strangled Eila shocked everyone. It beggared belief. How could such a thing even be possible? There was no way a machine could have been programmed to act in such a human manner.
‘Robots are God’s handiwork, too,’ Margit said. She no longer dyed her hair jet-black, but allowed the white to thrust forth from the roots. Her new appearance reminded Siiri of a character from an animated children’s movie, an evil woman who hated dogs and drove too fast in her convertible.
‘How could you make such a preposterous claim? Humans are the ones who built the robots and assigned them their tasks. And it is humans who are responsible for this murder, even though it would be nice to blame God and pray for mercy on the robots’ souls,’ Anna-Liisa said in a voice that had lost its characteristic vim and vigour.
They were sitting in Anna-Liisa’s cramped apartment, meeting for their book club. But nothing came of reading, as Eila’s death had thrown their thoughts into turmoil. Just as they were getting somewhere, they reached a long conversation between the humanist Settembrini and the engineer Hans Castorp that also touched on religion, and this discussion about the balance between technology and humanity inevitably led to reflections on the murder committed by the caregiving robot.
It was equally shocking that Eila had lain dead in her robot’s embrace for quite some time before being discovered. The psychopathic Ahaba was incapable of reporting the death to the patient registry at the health centre, and not a single one of the sensors in Eila’s flat had sounded the alarm the way they should have during an emergency. The pharmaceutical AGV had even delivered its daily doses to the dead woman for over a week despite the extraordinary circumstances. It was only when the municipal health inspector had arrived at Sunset Grove in January to survey the rat population that the body had been detected.
‘Of course that inspector didn’t find a single rat,’ Irma huffed. She didn’t find the rats as stimulating a presence as Siiri did. Their numbers had started to increase, and in the end Irma had written a letter to the city’s Department of the Environment demanding an investigation. Their jaws had collectively dropped when her handwritten missive had actually reached its intended recipient and a health inspector came knocking at Sunset Grove’s doors the following week. Aatos Jännes had let him in, but not before conducting a thorough inquisition, as if he’d enjoyed a lifelong career at the Security Police or as a bouncer at a Helsinki bar. More than anything, Aatos wanted to know whether the inspector was one of Tauno’s fairy friends, and when he wasn’t, the inspector had been allowed to go about his business.
‘Ahaba probably lost power at the fatal moment,’ Siiri pondered. Unlike most residents, she didn’t believe the robot had been programmed to kill its wards. ‘All it would take would be for the power to go out and the robot to collapse on top of Eila. She couldn’t get out from under it and died in her own bed.’
‘It must have been a dreadful end to a long life,’ Anna-Liisa said sombrely.
Suddenly Margit burst into tears. They looked on in astonishment as she tried to calm herself by mechanically reciting prayers to Jesus Christ. Anna-Liisa found the praying irritating, but even she understood that interfering at such a delicate moment was not fitting. It was dreadful that a third resident had died in the clutches of the machines. These were not the sort of happy deaths they’d been lulled into accepting and, in their own cases, anticipating. In the past, death had been a mundane occurrence at Sunset Grove, good news rather than bad, but these recent incidents had turned everything topsy-turvy. There was no honour to dying in a robot’s embrace or by over-exertion from an exercise game console. Even though the seal pup owner may have died happily mid-caress, Siiri saw something unpleasant in it, propped up alone in an electric wheelchair in a retirement home, clenching a robotic toy at the moment of one’s death. What if the death had been caused by the electric wheelchair after all, if it had broken down and left the old woman to starve to death in the corridor in her smart-diapers? Or if the seal pup had short-circuited and given the poor woman an electric shock? Nevertheless, Eila’s demise in Ahaba’s embrace was the most anxiety-provoking of the deaths, since she was the one who had so meekly subjected herself to the companionship of the caregiving robot and demonstrated its skills to Siiri just a couple of days before the fateful moment.
‘Yes, well, I assume Eila just rested there before losing consciousness. She probably didn’t suffer dreadfully. Nor did she have to die alone, as her beloved personal caregiver was there,’ Irma said, trying to lighten the mood. Anna-Liisa shot her an exhausted look and, to Siiri’s surprise, smiled. She had imagined the others would find Irma’s japes offensive. But Anna-Liisa just shook her head and wryly said: ‘What are we ever going to do with you, Irma. Döden, döden, döden.’
Then she hoisted herself up into a sitting position and made sure the front of her flannel nightshirt was buttoned. Her bun had flattened into a straggly mass, and her reading glasses were sticky. Siiri wasn’t used to seeing her friend so deflated; Anna-Liisa was always so well groomed and firm of mien. But the nightmarish battle over the estate and the helping hands of the Awaken Now! Association had driven Anna-Liisa into such a tight corner that she appeared to have decided to solve her problems by sinking into her bed. Siiri let out a deep, tremulous sigh, and tears welled up in her eyes. It was disconcerting, reacting so strongly in the presence of others. But the others thought she was mourning Eila and paid her no heed.
Anna-Liisa listlessly reached for the book and started reading in a weak voice: ‘At noon the patient will be brought the same broth as was brought yesterday and will be brought tomorrow. At the same time—’
‘Broth! I do love my boullion, especially with, say, cabbage pie. Such delicacies aren’t served in our rest home, and if they were, no one would . . .’ Irma’s flight of fancy was cut short by the appearance of a familiar curly-haired man marching into the flat, an electric-blue bow tie at his throat. He was accompanied by two laddish galumphs in suits, barely of age, who also removed their shoes at the door. The boys gawped and tried to hide behind the curly-haired man’s short but broad back.
‘The Lord’s blessings on you,’ he said, casting a gentle eye over his flock. ‘Aha, I see our numbers have grown. And Margit is here, too. It’s lovely to see you, Margit. Are we interrupting a prayer circle, perhaps?’
Siiri and Irma stared, dumbfounded, at this troika standing in front of Anna-Liisa’s bookshelf, looking as if they’d been forced to come and pay their respects to their ailing grandmother. Impatience washed across Anna-Liisa’s face, but she didn’t say anything, simply frowned in irritation and closed her eyes like a child who wanted an unpleasant situation to just go away. But Margit smiled and bounced up with an unusual agility to bury the curly-haired man in an embrace.
‘The Lord’s blessings on you, Pertti!’
The adjutants opened their satchels and spread various papers, presumably testament-related, across Anna-Liisa’s desk. The grifters clearly hadn’t given up on the idea of having Anna-Liisa’s property transferred over to the Awaken Now! Association. Or was it possible their visit pertained to Anna-Liisa’s diminished condition? Had things progressed to the point that they would be transferring her to the dementia unit or some other place of perpetual bed-rest?
Pertti eyed the boys’ papers in satisfaction, soothed Margit with a few apt Bible passages and pressed her into her seat with a hand of blessing. Then he bypassed Siiri and Irma without a word of greeting, perched on the edge of Anna-Liisa’s bed and tried to take her hand with the customary lack of success. One did not just touch Anna-Liisa without her leave.
‘Anna-Liisa. Dear Anna-Liisa.’
‘I’m not your dear. I’m Mrs Petäjä, MA.’
‘All right, let’s just calm down.’
Pertti shot a quick glance at the young men standing at attention, took strength from Margit’s admiring gaze and switched strategies. Now he spoke in a loud voice, as if Anna-Liisa were an imbecile who was hard of hearing. The familiar velvety tone had utterly vanished and the main clauses now were modified by dependent clauses and participial phrases. He informed her that he had prepared all the requisite paperwork as agreed, giving his audience the unequivocal impression that he was working in seamless concert with Anna-Liisa and in accordance with previous arrived-at arrangements.
‘In reference to our earlier conversations, I’d like to reiterate that all that’s required of you is your signature on a few documents, the contents of which remain no doubt clear to you based on said conversations. It’s that simple.’
Anna-Liisa looked at the man with faded brown eyes that in their prime had been jet-black. Now a flickering flame ignited in them; Siiri had experienced it on more than one occasion when unconscionable behaviour had forced Anna-Liisa’s hand.
‘If I hear that idiocy from your lips one more time, I will go insane. It’s that simple!’ Anna-Liisa had suddenly got her strength and her commanding voice back and now projected boundless disdain for the volunteer intruder. ‘Nothing is that simple! Not life, not death, and certainly not religion. If something is simple, it’s you. You think you can pull the wool over the eyes of the elderly with your vapid Bible passages and phony recitations. You think we don’t realize what lies behind your simplistic aphorisms? Money. That’s right, money! You are a greedy and immoral man, presumably a criminal as well, perhaps even an atheist, and hell will freeze over before I become so demented as to donate anything I own, even my old woollen knickers, to any of the organizations represented by you and your inane experts. And if you don’t stop hounding me, I’m going to report you to the police. I will ask for a restraining order if I can’t think of anything else. It’s that simple!’
‘And that’s that. Brava, Anna-Liisa!’ Irma applauded enthusiastically, and Siiri felt enormous pride in her courageous friend. The adjutants looked at the tips of their socks, and Margit was horrified. She rose and wrapped her arm around Pertti’s shoulders as if protecting a tormented schoolchild from the class bully.
‘She’s very old and gets in a state from time to time,’ Margit explained to Pertti. ‘We can’t take what she says seriously. Don’t feel bad. I know all the good work you do, and above all, God knows. That’s what’s important, right?’
‘God schmod,’ Pertti said with a startling worldliness, before wrenching himself out of Margit’s arms and to his feet. He jangled the keys in his pocket antsily. ‘Let’s go, guys. Bring the papers, don’t leave any of them behind.’ Those mute assistants, those panicky paladins, packed their documents into their satchels and marched to the door, socks slipping against the floor. Pertti turned once more towards Anna-Liisa and said in his former velvety voice: ‘Anna-Liisa, you need rest. I won’t abandon you. You resist in
vain. You’re not seeing the big picture. You’re afraid, that’s only natural. But we’ll help you. Good day to you. A very good day to you, Anna-Liisa.’
Chapter 22
There was a momentary silence after the men left. No rat scrabbled at the waste bin; the smartwall didn’t come up with some germane Bible phrase. Anna-Liisa had gone ashen as a result of her exertions, and Siiri went into the kitchen to fetch her something to drink. Irma offered to retrieve a box of red wine from her apartment, but Anna-Liisa firmly declined. She took a few sips of water from the glass Siiri brought, and then they sat silently again, each of them lost in her own thoughts. It was pitch black outside, a normal January afternoon in Helsinki. Anna-Liisa’s ancient wall clock ticked tirelessly, swinging its pendulum and demonstrating its unshakable faith in that credo questioned in The Magic Mountain: that time is a stable and objective measure of life. In the end, Margit wanted to speak.
‘Pertti is a good man,’ she said, then paused as if to consider how this claim would be received. They all looked at her expectantly, and so she continued cautiously, recounting how she had made Pertti’s acquaintance at resident events and found him to be an intelligent and empathetic individual. ‘I’ve never been particularly religious,’ she said, now a little more confidently. ‘A nominal Christian. But the pain involved in Eino’s illness and passing, thinking about euthanasia and death as a relief, threw me into a state of uncertainty and angst. That’s why I felt safe at Pertti’s prayer circles. And then, all of a sudden, it happened. I found religion, just the way they describe it in books.’
‘Did you speak in tongues? Or did you fall to the floor?’ Irma asked inappropriately, but Margit just smiled. She was getting up to speed and described in detail how Pertti had asked God’s lambs to stand and Margit had instinctively stood, the only one, boldly. She had known with an astonishing certainty that she was doing the right thing. She had felt an incredible warmth throughout her body, momentarily lost consciousness and fallen into Pertti’s strong arms. When she came to, she had known without asking that the Holy Spirit had touched her. ‘I’m blameless for my sins and I bare my heart to my Saviour. He knows me better than I know myself, and that’s why I’m at peace. The power in Pertti’s hands made me feel so safe that I started to cry and laugh out loud.’
The End of Sunset Grove Page 14
