The Watched

by Christopher Priest

  “Where have you been?” he said to Jenessa. “You were gone so long, I took Luovi to see your folly. The gate was unlocked, so we assumed it would be all right.” “You know it’s not safe up there!” Ordier said. “What an interesting building it is,” Luovi said to him. “Such eccentric architecture. All those concealed faults in the walls. And what a view there is higher up!” She smiled at him patronizingly, then shifted the strap of her large leather bag on her shoulder, and walked past him toward the house. Ordier looked at Jenessa, hoping for some explanatory expression, but she would not meet his eyes.

  VII

  Parren and his wife stayed at the house for the rest of the day. Ordier was a passive listener to most of the conversation, feeling excluded from it. He wished he could involve himself in Jenessa’s work to the same degree that Luovi seemed to be involved with Parren, but whenever he ventured an opinion or an idea into the discussion of the Qataari, he was either ignored or tacitly dismissed. The result was that while Jacj Parren outlined his elaborate scheme—there was an aircraft to be hired, and a place found to erect the scintilla monitoring and decoding equipment—Ordier fell into an introspective mood, and grew increasingly preoccupied with his secret one-sided relationship with the Qataari girl. From the summit of the ridge it had been impossible to see whether there was a ritual taking place, and in any event the fact that he and Parren had been noticed would have put an immediate halt to it, but just the sight of the placid, colorful valley had been enough to remind him of the girl, and the ambiguity of the part she took in the ritual. And there was the uncertainty of what Jenessa and Luovi had seen or done while they were in the folly. Guilt and curiosity, the conflicting motives of the voyeur, were rising in Ordier again. Shortly before sunset, Parren suddenly announced that he and Luovi had another appointment in the evening, and Jenessa offered to drive them back to Tumo Town. Ordier, uttering the platitudes of host to departing guests, saw this as a brief chance to satisfy his curiosity. He walked down with the others to Jenessa’s car, and watched as they drove away. The sun was already behind the Tumoit Mountains, and the distant town was glittering with lights. When the car was out of sight, Ordier hurried back to the house, collected his binoculars, and set off for the folly. As Jenessa had said, the padlock on the gate was open; he must have forgotten to close it the last time he left the folly. As he went through he made sure of locking it, as usual, on the inside. Twilight on Tumo was short, a combination of the latitude and the western mountain heights, and as Ordier went up the slope towards the folly wall it was difficult to see his way. Once inside the hidden cell, Ordier wasted no time and put his eyes directly to the slit. Beyond, the valley was dark under the evening sky. He could see no one about; the alarm that their intrusion had caused seemed to have passed, for those Qataari in the valley during the day were nowhere about. The rose plantation was deserted, and the blooms moved to and fro in the breeze. Unaccountably relieved, Ordier returned to the house. He was washing up the plates and cups when Jenessa returned. She was looking excited and beautiful, and she kissed Ordier when she came in. “I’m going to work with Jacj!” she said. “He wants me to advise him. Isn’t that marvelous?” “Advise him? How?” “On the Qataari. He’ll pay me, and he says that when he returns to the north I can go with him.” Ordier nodded, and turned away. “Aren’t you pleased for me?” “How much is he going to pay you?” Jenessa had followed him as he walked out onto the patio, and from the doorway she turned on the colored lights concealed amongst the grapevines hanging from the overhead trellis. “Does it matter how much it is, Yvann?” Looking back at her he saw the multicolored light on the olive skin of her face, like the reflection from sun on flower petals. “It’s not the amount that matters,” he said. “It’s what you would have to do to earn it.” “Nothing more than I’m doing now. It will double my income, Yvann. You should be pleased! Now I can buy a house for myself.” “And what’s this about going north with him? You know you can’t leave the Archipelago.” “Jacj has a way.” “He has a way with everything, hasn’t he? I suppose his university can interpret the Covenant to suit itself.” “Something like that. He hasn’t told me.” Ordier turned away irritably, staring out at the still blue water of the pool. Jenessa went across to him. “There isn’t anything going on between us,” she said. “What do you mean?” “You know, Yvann. It’s not sex, or anything.” He laughed, suddenly and shortly. “Why on earth do you bring that into it?” “You’re behaving as if I’m having an affair with him. It’s just a job, just the work I’ve always done.” “I never said it wasn’t.” “I know I’ve spent a lot of time with him and Luovi,” Jenessa said. “I can’t help it. It’s, well…” “The bloody Qataari. That’s it, isn’t it?” “You know it is.” She took his arm then, and for several minutes they said nothing. Ordier was angry, and it always took some time for his moods to subside. It was irrational, of course, these things always were. Parren and his wife, since their arrival, had seemed set on changing the placid way of life he enjoyed, guilty conscience and all. The thought of Jenessa going over to them, collaborating with them, was just one more intrusion, and Ordier was incapable of dealing with it any other way than emotionally. Later, when they had made some supper and were drinking wine together on the patio, enjoying the warm night, Jenessa said: “Jacj wants you to join his work too.” “Me?” Ordier had mellowed as the evening progressed, and his laugh this time was not sardonic. “There’s not much I can do for him.” “He says there’s a lot you can do. He wants to rent your folly.”

  “Whatever for?” Ordier said, taken by surprise. “It overlooks the Qataari valley. Jacj wants to build an observation cell in the wall.” “Tell him it’s not available,” Ordier said abruptly. “It’s structurally unsound.” Jenessa was regarding him with a thoughtful expression. “It seemed safe enough to me,” she said. “We climbed right up to the battlements today.” “I thought I told you—” “What?” “It doesn’t matter,” Ordier said, sensing another row. He raised the wine bottle to see how much was left. “Would you like another glass?” Jenessa yawned, but she did it in an affected, exaggerated way, as if she too had seen the way the conversation was going, and welcomed the chance to let the subject die. “I’m tired,” she said. “Let’s finish the bottle, and go to bed.” “You’ll stay the night then?” “If I’m invited.” “You’re invited,” Ordier said.

  VIII

  Four more days passed. Although Ordier stayed away from the cell in the folly wall, his curiosity about the Qataari girl continued; at the same time he felt a growing sense of ambiguity, compounded by the unwelcome presence of Parren and his wife. The morning after these two had visited the house. Ordier had been waiting for Jenessa to leave when a distracting thought came to him. It was what Parren had said to him on the ridge, about the unmarked, unidentified scintillas. He had linked them to the Qataari, and interpreted it to mean that someone else was observing them. Ordier, listening to Jenessa in the shower cubicle, suddenly saw the possibility of an altogether different interpretation. It was not that someone else was spying on the Qataari… but that the Qataari themselves were watching . With their obsessive desire for privacy, it would clearly be in their interests to be able to watch the movement of the other people on the island. If they had access to scintilla equipment—or had been able to manufacture it themselves somehow—then it would be a logical way of defending themselves from the outside world. It was not impossible. The Qataari men and women who had visited the northern nations had revealed a brilliant inductive understanding of science and technology, and after only a few moments of hesitation had been completely at home with such devices as elevators, telephones, automobiles… even computers. Parren had said that Qataari science was sophisticated, and if that were so, they might have learned how to duplicate the scintillas that had been poured so indiscriminately over their homeland. If the Qataari were watching the people of Tumo, then they were certainly watching Ordier; he remembered the unmarked scintillas he was always finding in his hou
se. Later that day, when Jenessa had left, Ordier took his detector and scoured every room of the house. He found another half-dozen of the unmarked scintillas, and put them with the others in the quiet-case. But the detector was fallible; he could never be entirely sure that every single scintilla had been found. He spent most of this day in thought, realizing that this conjecture, if it was true, led to the conclusion that the Qataari knew he was spying on them from the folly. If this was so, then it would account for something that he had always found naggingly strange: his unshakable conviction that the ritual was staged for his benefit. He had always maintained the most scrupulous efforts at silence and secrecy, and in ordinary circumstances he had no reason to suppose that the Qataari knew he was there. But the girl had become a central figure in the ritual after he had noticed her in the plantation, and had watched her through his binoculars. The ritual itself invariably started after he went into the cell; he had never once found it in progress. And the ceremony, although staged in a circular arena, was always within his view, the girl was always facing him. Until now Ordier had unconsciously attributed all this to simple good fortune, and had not sought a rational explanation. But if the Qataari were watching him, were waiting for him, were staging it for him… But all this speculation was denied by one fact: the famous dislike the Qataari had of being watched. They would not allow someone to watch them, far less encourage it by mounting an intriguing ritual for his benefit! It was this new understanding, and its attendant enigmas, that kept Ordier away from the folly for four days. In the past he had fantasized that the girl was being prepared for him, that she was a sexual lure, but this had been the stuff of erotic imaginings. To have to confront this as a matter of actual fact was something he was not ready for. To do so would be to accept something else that had once been an element in his fantasies: that the girl knew who he was, that the Qataari had selected him. So the days passed. Jenessa was busy with Parren’s preparations, and she seemed not to notice Ordier’s abstracted state of mind. He prowled the house by day, sorting through his books and trying to concentrate on domestic matters. By night he slept with Jenessa, as usual, but during their lovemaking, especially in those moments just before reaching climax, Ordier’s thoughts were of the Qataari girl. He imagined her sprawling across the bed of scarlet petals; her garment was torn away, her legs were spread, her mouth was reaching to meet his, her eyes stared submissively at him, her body was warm and soft to the touch. She had been offered to him, and Ordier knew that she was his for the taking.

  IX

  On the morning of the fifth day Ordier awoke to a new realization: he had resolved the dilemma. As he lay beside the sleeping Jenessa, he knew he accepted the fact that the Qataari had selected him, and he also knew why. He had met several Qataari in the north before he emigrated, and had made no secret to them of his work. They must have identified him here; he had been selected because of the scintillas. But more than this: until this waking Ordier had feared the idea, for it implied that he was a prisoner of the Qataari will, but this new understanding actually freed him. There was no further reason for his obsessive curiosity. He need never again agonize about missing the ritualized ceremony, because the ritual would not take place until he was there to observe it . He need never again return to the claustrophobic cell in the wall, because the Qataari would wait. They would wait for his arrival, as they would wait for others’ departure. Lying in his bed, staring up at the mirrored ceiling, Ordier realized that the Qataari had liberated him. The girl was being offered to him, and he could accept or refuse according to his whim. Then Jenessa, waking beside him, turned over and said: “What’s the time?” Ordier looked at the clock, told her the time. “I’ve got to hurry this morning.” “What’s the rush?” “Jacj’s catching the ferry to Muriseay. The aircraft will be ready today.” “Aircraft?” “To scintillate the Qataari,” Jenessa said. “We’re intending to spray them tonight or tomorrow night.” Ordier nodded. He watched Jenessa as she rolled sleepily from the bed, and walked naked to the shower cubicle. He followed her and waited outside, imagining her voluptuous body as he always did, but for once he was incapable of lustful thoughts. Afterwards he walked with her to the car, watched her drive away. He returned to the house. Reminding himself of his new existential state he made some coffee, then took it out on to the patio. The weather was hot again, and the scraping of the cicadas seemed especially loud. A new crate of books had arrived the previous day, and the swimming pool looked clean and cold. He could make it a busy day. He wondered if the Qataari were watching him now; if their scintillas lay between the paving stones, in the branches of the vines, in the soil of the overgrown flower beds. “I’ll never spy on the Qataari again,” he said aloud, into the imagined aural pick-ups. “I’ll go to the folly today, and tomorrow, and every day,” he said. “I’ll move from this house,” he said. “I’ll rent it to Parren, and I’ll live with Jenessa in the town.” “I’ll watch the Qataari,” he said. “I’ll watch them until I have seen everything, until I have taken everything.” He left his cushioned recliner and roamed around the patio, gesturing and waving, adopting elaborate postures of deep thought, of sudden decision, of abrupt changes of mind. He played to the invisible audience, remonstrating with himself for his indecision, declaiming his freedom to act at will, declaring with mimed tears his independence and responsibility. It was an act, but not an act, for free will liberates the purposeful and restrains the irresolute. “Am I interrupting anything?” The voice, breaking into his ridiculous charade, startled Ordier, and he turned around in anger and embarrassment. It was Luovi Parren, standing by the door to the lounge. Her large leather bag was slung as usual across her shoulder. “The door was open,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind.” “What do you want?” It was impossible for Ordier to keep the incivility out of his voice. “Well, after my long walk I’d appreciate something to drink.”

  “Have a coffee. I’ll get another cup.” Furiously, Ordier went into the kitchen and found a cup. He stood by the sink, resting both hands on the edge and staring into the bowl in mindless rage. He hated being caught off guard. Luovi was sitting in the shade, on the steps that led down from the verandah. “I thought you’d be with Jacj,” Ordier said when he had poured her some coffee. He had recovered from the surprise of her unwelcome arrival sufficiently at least to make an effort toward politeness. “I didn’t want to see Muriseay again,” Luovi said. “Is Jenessa here?” “Isn’t she with Jacj?” Ordier was distracted; he wanted his illusion of free will again. “I haven’t seen her. Jacj left two days ago.” Ordier frowned, trying to remember what Jenessa had said. She had left the house only half an hour ago, to see the ferry leave, she said; if Luovi had walked from the town they should have passed each other on the road. And didn’t Jenessa say that Parren was catching the ferry this morning? “Jacj has gone to charter an aircraft, I take it?” “Of course not. The Qataari camp was scintillated three nights ago. Didn’t you hear the engine?” “No, I didn’t! Did Jenessa know this?” “I’m sure she must,” Luovi said, and smiled the same sparse smile he had seen the day she came back from the folly. “Then what’s Jacj doing on Muriseay?” “Collecting the monitoring equipment. Do you mean Jenessa didn’t tell you any of this?”

  “Jenessa told me—” Ordier hesitated, regarding Luovi suspiciously. Her manner was as sweetly polite as that of a suburban gossip breaking news of adultery. She sipped her coffee, apparently waiting for his reply. Ordier turned away, took a breath. It was a time for instant decision: to believe this woman, or to believe the words and behavior of Jenessa, who in the last few days had done or said nothing that roused the least suspicion. As he turned back to face her, Luovi said: “You see, I was hoping I would find Jenessa here, so we could talk things over.” Ordier said: “I think you should go, Luovi. I don’t know what you want, or what you’re trying to—” “Then you do know more about the Qataari than you’ve said!” “What’s that got to do with it?” “As far as I know, everything! Isn’t that what the folly was
built for in the first place?” “The folly? What are you talking about?” “Don’t think we don’t know, Ordier. It’s time Jenessa was told.” Five days ago, Luovi’s insinuations would have gone straight through Ordier’s defenses to his guilty conscience; that was five days ago, though, and since then everything had become more complex. “Look, get out of my house! You’re not welcome here!” “Very well.” Luovi stood up, and put down her cup with a precise motion. “You’ll take the consequences then?” She turned and walked back into the house. Ordier followed, and saw her leave through the main door and walk down the broken terrain of the hillside toward the track. He was confused and angry, trying to put some logic into what had just happened. Did Luovi know as much as she seemed to be implying? Had she really come to the house to see Jenessa, or was it just to make a scene? Why? What could her motives conceivably have been? Why should she imply that Jenessa had been lying to him? The sun was high, and white light glared down across the dusty countryside. In the distance, Tumo Town was shimmering in the haze. Watching Luovi striding angrily away through the heat, her heavy bag banging against her side, Ordier felt a paradoxical sense of courtesy come over him, and he took pity on her. He saw that she had apparently lost her way and was not heading directly toward the track, but was moving across the hillside parallel to the ridge. He ran after her. “Luovi!” he called as he caught up with her. “You can’t walk all the way back in this heat. Let me drive you.” She glanced at him angrily, and walked on. “I know exactly where I’m going, thank you.” She looked toward the ridge, and as Ordier fell back behind her he was aware of the deliberate ambiguity.