B0040702LQ EBOK

by Margaret Jull Costa;Annella McDermott

For eighteen hours (spread over Saturday and Sunday) I took refuge in a cafe from which I could watch Gualta's house and there I waited for him to come out. He did not appear, however, and, just when I was wondering whether I should return defeated to Madrid or go up to his apartment, even if I risked possibly bumping into him, I suddenly saw his nonentity of a wife come out of the front door. She was rather carelessly dressed, as if her spouse's success were no longer sufficient to embellish her artificially or as if its effect did not extend to weekends. On the other hand, though, it seemed to me, as she walked past the darkened glass concealing me, that she was somehow more provocative than the woman I had seen at the supper in Madrid and at the party in Barcelona. The reason was very simple and it was enough to make me realise that I had not been as original as I thought nor had the measures I had taken been wise: the look on her face was that of a salacious, sexually dissolute woman. Though very different, she had the same slight (and very attractive) squint, the same troubling, clouded gaze as my own stunner of a wife.

  I returned to Madrid convinced that the reason Gualta had not left his apartment all weekend was because that same weekend he had travelled to Madrid and had spent hours sitting in La Orotava, the cafe opposite my own house, waiting for me to leave, which I had not done because I was in Barcelona watching his house which he had not left because he was in Madrid watching mine. There was no escape.

  I made a few further, by now rather half-hearted, attempts. Minor details to complete the transformation, like becoming an official supporter of Real Madrid, in the belief that no supporter of Espanol would ever be allowed into Barca; or else I would order anisette or aniseed liqueur - drinks I find repugnant - in some dingy bar on the outskirts, sure that a man of Gualta's refined tastes would not be prepared to make such sacrifices; I also started insulting the Pope in public, certain that my rival, a fervent Catholic, would never go that far. In fact, I wasn't sure of anything and I think that now I never will be. A year and a half after I first met Gualta, my fast-track career in the company for which I still work has come to an abrupt halt, and I await my dismissal (with severance pay, of course) any week now. A little while ago, without any explanation, my wife - either because she had grown weary of perversion or else, on the contrary, because my fantasies no longer sufficed and she needed to go in search of fresh dissipations - left me. Will Gualta's nonentity of a wife have done the same? Is his position in the company as precarious as mine? I will never know, because, as I said, I now prefer not to. For the moment has arrived when, if I did arrange to meet Gualta, two things could happen, both equally terrifying, at least, more terrifying than uncertainty: I could find a man utterly different from the one I first met and identical to the current me (scruffy, demoralised, shiftless, boorish, a blasphemer and a pervert) whom I will, however, possibly find just as awful as the Xavier de Gualta I met the first time. As regards the other possibility, that is even worse: I might find the same Gualta I first met, unchanged: impassive, courteous, boastful, elegant, devout and successful. And if that were the case, I would have to ask myself, with a bitterness I could not bear, why, of the two of us, was I the one to abandon and renounce my own biography?

  © Javier Marias

  Translated by Margaret Jull Costa

  Javier Marias (Madrid, 1951) wrote his first novel when he was eighteen (Los dominios del lobo (1971) and has since published eight more, amongst them: Todas las almas (1989; All Souls, Harvill/HarperCollins, 1992), Corazon tan blanco (1992; A Heart So White, Harvill, 1995), Mariana en la batalla piensa en mi (1994; Tomorrow in the Battle Think on Me, Harvill, 1996), Cuando Jui mortal (short stories) (1996; When I was Mortal, Harvill, 1999 - all English translations by Margaret Jun Costa) and Negra espalda del tiempo (1998). He is also a prize-winning translator, notably of Laurence Sterne's Tristram Shandy. His own work has been translated into twenty-three languages and has won numerous prizes both in Spain and abroad; these include the 1993 Spanish Critics' prize 1993, the 1995 Romulo Gallegos International Prize for the Novel, the 1996 Prix Femina for best foreign novel and the 1997 International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award. This story is from a collection entitled Mientras ellas duermen (1990).

  DAY 9

  0.01 (local time) Landing executed without difficulty. Conventional propulsion (augmented). Speed of landing: 6.30 on the conventional scale (restricted). Speed on touchdown: 4 on the Minus-UI scale, or 9 on the Molina-Clavo scale. Cubic capacity: AZ-0.3.

  Landing-place: 630 (110) 28476394783639473937492749.

  Local name for landing-place: Sardanyola, Catalonia, Spain.

  07.00 In response to orders (mine) Gurb preparing to initiate contact with local life-forms (real and potential). As we are travelling in acorporeal mode (pure intelligence - analytical factor 4800) arrange for him to adopt a form analogous to that of the inhabitants of the area. Objective: to avoid attracting the attention of native fauna (real and potential). Having consulted the Astral Catalogue of Assimilable Forms (Earth) ACAF(E), select for Gurb the form of the human being designated Marta Sanchez.

  07.15 Gurb exits spaceship via hatchway 4. Weather fine, light southern wind; temperature, 15 degrees centigrade; comparative humidity, 56 per cent; sea, calm.

  07.21 First contact with an inhabitant of the area. Information received from Gurb: height of individual, 170 centimetres; cranial circumference, 57 centimetres; number of eyes: two; length of tail, 0.00 centimetres (no tail). It communicates by means of a language of tremendous structural simplicity, but immensely complex utterance, since enunciation involves the use of internal organs. Level of conceptualisation minimal. Designation of individual, Lluc Puig i Roig (reception probably defective or incomplete). Biological function of individual: professor (fully-tenured) at the Autonomous University in Bellaterra. Level of docility: low. Uses a vehicle of tremendous structural simplicity, but poor manoeuvrability, known as a Ford Fiesta.

  07.23 Gurb invited by the individual to climb into his vehicle. Requests instructions. Order him to accept the invitation. Principal objective: avoid attracting attention of local fauna (real and potential).

  07.30 No news from Gurb.

  0.800 No news from Gurb.

  09.00 No news from Gurb.

  12.30 No news from Gurb.

  20.30 No news from Gurb.

  DAY 10

  07.00 Decide to go out in search of Gurb. Before leaving, disguise spaceship to prevent reconnoitring and inspection by local fauna. Having consulted the Catalogue, decide to turn spaceship into attr. semi-det. res. 3 bdrms, 2 bthrms, balcony, comml. sw pool., 2 prkg spces, mrtge avail.

  07.30 Decide to adopt appearance of individualised human being. Having consulted the Catalogue, opt for the Count-Duke of Olivares.

  07.30 Rather than leave the ship by the hatch (now turned into a panelled wood door of tremendous structural simplicity but poor manoeuvrability), decide to beam down in a spot where the concentration of human beings is densest, in order to avoid attracting attention.

  08.00 Beam down at a spot known as corner of Diagonal and Paseo de Gracia. Knocked down by no. 17 bus, Barceloneta to Vall d'Hebron. Obliged to retrieve head, which fell off as a result of accident. Operation difficult due to large number of vehicles.

  08.01 Knocked down by an Opel Corsa.

  08.02 Knocked down by a delivery truck.

  08.03 Knocked down by a taxi.

  08.04 Manage to recover head and wash it in a fountain situated close to the scene of the accident. Take advantage of the opportunity to analyse the composition of the local water: hydrogen, oxygen and faeces.

  08.15 In view of large number of individuals, it may prove difficult to locate Gurb by sight, but wish to avoid sensorial location, as am unsure of effect it could have on ecological balance of area and, by extension, on inhabitants. Human beings are creatures of variable height. The smallest among them are so tiny that if they were not conveyed by taller ones in carriages they would soon be trampled underfoot (with possible loss of head) by tall ones. The tallest rarely e
xceed 200 centimetres. A curious detail is that when they lie flat they remain exactly the same length. Some have a moustache; others, beard and moustache. Almost all have two eyes, which may be situated at the front or the back of the head, depending on how they are facing. When walking they move in a forward direction, and are thus forced to counteract the movement of the legs by means of vigorous arm swinging. Those in the greatest hurry reinforce this arm movement by means of briefcases made of plastic or leather or a material called Samsonite, which comes from another planet. The traction principle used in their cars (four aligned wheels filled with evil-smelling air) is more rational, and permits the attainment of higher speeds. Must remember not to fly or walk on my head if wish to avoid being taken for an eccentric. NB Must remember always to keep one foot touching the ground - immaterial which one - or if not, the external organ known as the bottom.

  11.00 Have been waiting for three hours to spot Gurb. A waste of time. Flow of persons past this point in this city shows no decrease. Rather the reverse. Calculate that the odds against Gurb passing without me seeing him are of the order of seventy-three to one. However, to this calculation, one would have to append two variables:

  a) Gurb doesn't pass this spot

  b) Gurb passes this spot, but having modified his external appearance. In latter case odds against my spotting him go up to nine trillion to one.

  12.00 The hour of the Angelus. Meditate for an instant in silent prayer, trusting that Gurb is not going to choose that exact moment to pass in front of me.

  13.00 The erect position in which I have held my body for the last five hours is beginning to tire me. Apart from the stiffness in the muscles, I must make a continuous effort to inhale and exhale air. Once when I forgot to do it for five minutes, my face went purple and my eyes popped out of my head, and I had to go and retrieve them from amongst the cars. If this goes on, I'll end up drawing attention to myself. It seems that human beings inhale and exhale air in an automatic fashion, which they call breathing. This automatic functioning, which is repugnant to any civilised being, and which I note here for purely scientific motives, characterises not only breathing but many corporeal functions, such as the circulation of the blood, digestion, blinking - which unlike the two previously mentioned actions can be consciously controlled, in which case it is known as winking - the growth of the nails and so on. So subject are humans to the automatic functioning of their organs (and organisms) that they would soil themselves, if they were not trained as children to subordinate nature to decorum.

  14.00 Have reached the limit of my physical resistance. Rest by getting down on the ground, stretching my left leg out behind me and my right leg in front. Seeing me in this posture, a woman gives me a 25-peseta coin, which I immediately swallow in order not to appear impolite. Temperature, 20 degrees centigrade; comparative humidity, 64 per cent; light southerly winds; sea, calm.

  14.30 Density of traffic, both vehicular and pedestrian, diminishing slightly. Still no news from Gurb. Even at the risk of disturbing the precarious ecological balance of the planet, decide to establish sensorial contact. Taking advantage of the fact that there is no bus passing, make my mind a blank and emit waves on frequency H76420ba, rising gradually to H76420ba400010.

  At the second attempt receive a response signal which is weak at first but gradually clears. Decode the signal, which appears to be coming from two different points, though close together in terms of the earth's axis. Text of the signal (decoded):

  Where are you calling from, Senora Cargols?

  From Sant Joan Despi.

  Can you give me that again?

  From Sant Joan Despi. Sant Joan Despi. Hello? Can you hear me?

  We seem to be having some technical problems here in the studio, Senora Cargols. Can you hear us?

  What did you say?

  I asked if you're hearing us. Senora Cargols?

  Yes, carry on. I'm hearing you clearly.

  Senora Cargols, can you hear us?

  Yes, very well. I can hear you.

  And where are you calling from, Senora Cargols?

  From Sant Joan Despi.

  From Sant Joan Despi. And can you hear us clearly in Sant Joan Despi, Senora. Cargols?

  Yes, I can hear you fine. What about you? Can you hear me?

  Yes, very well. Now, where are you calling from?

  I sense it is going to be harder than I thought to locate Gurb.

  15.00 Decide to search the city systematically, rather than remaining in one spot. By doing so, I reduce the odds against finding Gurb by one trillion, but even so, success remains uncertain. Set off, following the automatic self-correcting heliographic map which I incorporated into my internal circuits on leaving the spaceship. Fall into a hole in the road left by the Catalan Gas Company.

  15.02 Fall into a hole in the road left by the Barcelona Water company.

  15.03 Fall into a hole in the road left by National Telecommunications.

  15.03 Fall into a hole in the road left by the Residents' Association on Calle Corcega.

  15.06 Decide to proceed without the automatic selfcorrecting heliographic map and instead look where I'm going.

  19.00 Have been walking for four hours. No idea where I am, and my legs can hardly carry me. The city is huge: the crowds, constant; the noise, incredible. Surprised not to find the usual monuments, such as a Cenotaph to Blessed Mother Pilar, which would aid orientation. I stopped a pedestrian and asked him how I could set about finding somebody who was lost. He asked me how old the person was. When I said six thousand, five hundred and thirty years, he said try the Corte Ingles department store. The worst thing is having to breathe this air, which is thick with succulent particles. It is a wellknown fact that in some parts of the city the density of the air is such that the residents have forced it into skins and exported it as black pudding. My eyes are smarting, my nose is blocked, my mouth is dry. The quality of life is so much better in Sardanyola!

  20.30 After sunset the atmospheric conditions would have improved greatly if the human beings had not had the bright idea of switching on the street lighting. It seems they require it when they're out of doors, because although the majority of them have unattractive, or even frankly ugly features, they feel the need to see one another. Even the cars switch on their lights and attack each other with them. Temperature, 17 degrees centigrade; humidity, 62 per cent; light south-easterly winds; sea, choppy.

  21.30 Have had enough! Cannot take another step. Have suffered considerable physical deterioration. Have lost an arm, a leg, and both ears, and my tongue is hanging out so far that I've had to tie it to my belt, after I had picked up four dog turds and I don't know how many cigarette ends. Given the conditions, it would be better to postpone my search until tomorrow. Hide under a lorry, disintegrate and beam down inside the spaceship.

  21.45 Energy recharge.

  21.50 Put on my pyjamas. Gurb's absence weighs on my spirits. As we have spent all our evenings together for the last eight hundred years, am at a loss as to how to kill the time between now and sleep. I could watch local television, or read the latest comic strip adventure of Lolita Galaxia, but neither appeals. Cannot understand Gurb's absence, and even less his silence. Have never been an unreasonable superior. Have always allowed the crew, i.e. Gurb, complete freedom to come and go as he pleases (in his time off), but if he knows he won't be back, or he's going to be late, surely the least he could do is let me know?

  DAY 11

  08.00 Still no news from Gurb. Try again to establish sensorial contact. Get an angry voice demanding in the name of decent people everywhere, whom it claims to represent, a full and detailed inquiry into allegations of sleaze against a certain Senor Guerra. Decide to abandon sensorial contact.

  08.30 Leave the spaceship and in the form of a grebe take a look at the area from the air.

  09.30 Having completed the operation, return to the spaceship. If the cities are tortuous and irrational in their design, the countryside around them is worse. Nothing is
flat or regular, on the contrary it seems to have been deliberately planned so as to be inconvenient. As for the coastline, it looks like the work of a madman.

  09.45 After a detailed study of a map of the city (the double elliptical-axis cartographic version), decide to continue my search for Gurb in a zone on the periphery inhabited by a species of human being known as poor people. As the Catalogue assigns them a level of docility somewhat lower than that of the variety known as rich people, and considerably lower than the variety known as the middle classes, opt for the appearance of the individual designated Gary Cooper.

  10.00 Beam down in an apparently deserted street in the San Cosine district. Doubt if Gurb would come to live here of his own accord, though he is not what you would call the sharpest arrow in the quiver.

  10.01 A group of youths with knives take my wallet.

  10.02 A group of youths with knives take my gun and my sheriffs badge.

  10.03 A group of youths with knives take my waistcoat, shirt and trousers.

  10.04 A group of youths with knives take my boots, spurs and the harmonica.

  10.10 A patrol car draws up beside me. A policeman gets out, informs me of my rights under the Constitution, handcuffs me and shoves me in the car. Temperature, 21 degrees centigrade; humidity, 75 per cent; winds gusting from the south; heavy seas.

  10.30 Put into a cell at the police station. In the same cell there is an individual of shabby appearance, to whom I introduce myself and give an account of the vicissitudes that have brought me to this unhappy pass.

  10.45 Once he has overcome the initial distrust that human beings invariably feel towards other members of their species, the individual whom fate has placed in my path decides to initiate a conversation with me. He gives me his card which reads as follows:

  JETULIO PENCAS

  Consultant Beggar

  I read tarot, I play the violin, I inspire pity

  Service in your own home if required

  10.50 My new friend explains that he has been banged up in error, because he never broke into a car to steal nothing, he earns an honest living begging, and the substance they found on him wasn't what they said it was, but the ashes of his late father, God rest his soul, which he was taking that very day to scatter them over the city from a well-known beauty spot. He then adds that everything he's just told me is a lie, but, in any case, it won't do him any good, because there's no such thing as justice in this country, and even though they've got no proof and no witnesses, they'll probably take us and lock us up in the slammer just because of the way we look and when we get out we'll have fleas and AIDS. I tell him I don't understand, and he replies that there's nothing to understand, calls me mate, adds that such is life and remarks that the crux of the matter is the unequal distribution of wealth in this country. By way of an example, he cites the case of an individual whose name I forget, who has built himself a house with twenty-two toilets, adding that he hopes he gets diarrhoea sometime when they're all occupied. He then climbs onto his bed and announces that when the glorious day dawns (what glorious day does he have in mind?) he'll force the individual in question to do his business out in the yard with the chickens and will distribute the twenty-two toilets to a similar number of families on income support. That way, he says, they'll have something to occupy their time with till they're given a job, as promised. At this point he falls off the bed and bangs his head.