I woke up late, probably affected by the fatigue I’ve had for the past two days. After I washed my face and brushed my teeth I sat on the bed and started thinking about my plans for the day ahead. The most important thing was to find Laroche as soon as possible and if I want to find him I have to travel somewhere within the city. If I have to travel I will need some points or coupons to pay for the taxi or bus and if I need coupons I have to pay for them with the money I got from The Corporation. Everything seemed so practical and simple but there were a few more questions in my mind: where can I find an exchange point and where do I start my search for Laroche?
After pondering about the first question I came to a conclusion that it’ll be easier to pay for the taxi with coupons I still have and then, after I get more “credits” I’ll think about Laroche again.
I had a quick breakfast of some toast and jam (there was a third jar in the fridge), brushed my hair, put the trainers on and left the house. I decided not to carry the parcel around with me all day long - nobody can guarantee I’ll find Laroche today. A bundle of bank notes was sitting at the bottom of my bag. Should I exchange all the money straight away or keep some back for later? The answer to this question could only be found at the exchange point.
The day was hot and unbearably humid. As I left the Bell-Oak Park territory I headed up another street where there was more cars were driving by. It didn’t take me long to catch a taxi - not too many people were so keen on paying a lot for the pleasure and most of them preferred to wait for the bus that just stopped at the bus stop not very far from where I was standing. “Bell-Oak Boulevard” was the name of the bus stop. I memorised the name of the street and approached the yellow “Tazi” at the curb.
A puffy-faced fellow was already impatiently tapping his fingers on the dusty steering wheel.
“Where would you like to go?”
“I need you to find an exchange point where I could buy some coupons for money.”
The driver nodded towards the passenger seat as though saying “get it”.
I sat on the back seat.
“How much will it cost to go to the nearest one?” I clarified about the “nearest” point deliberately because I didn’t want to be taken to the other end of the city.
The guy got the hint.
“One and a half coupons. It’s not that far from here.”
I gritted my teeth - that was expensive, I’ll only have two coupons left after this ride, but then this was exactly why I was going to go to the exchange - to get some more of them.
“Let’s go.”
The driver scratched his unshaved cheek, glanced at the side mirror, honked at a slow pedestrian and merged with the traffic.
The building where the exchange point was located looked fairly decent: a four-storey glass construction was shimmering in the sun displaying many shades of blue, only the name was a bit of a let-down - “TallyBank”. This word caused an unpleasant association in my head but overall the place looked more than credible: flowerbeds, parking space for a couple of dozen cars, a few benches along the sides of the driveway. I was thrilled to see all this after having some truly dark thoughts on the way here - I was afraid to see a narrow shabby hut with a barred window and a miserable woman inside, and even less pleasant characters hunting for their next victim outside.
I exhaled with a sense of relief, paid the driver and got out of the cab.
The hot air was filled with a smell of grass and a huge variety of flowers growing in the flowerbeds around the bank. I couldn’t see many customers though and only met one man in a suit by the entrance. I pushed the glass door and entered the main hall. Booths selling coupons were situated along the right wall; I selected the nearest door and slipped inside.
The woman behind the glass welcomed me. I replied and asked:
“What is the buying rate for one point now?”
The question was a bit silly as I’ve never dealt with “point” currency before but the woman replied without any hesitation or even the slightest hint of embarrassment.
“The rate is always the same; it’s remained stable over the past fifty years.”
I silently thought to myself “How long has this shithole been around then?”
“And how much money is it for one point?”
“We sell one point for one thousand dollars.”
Holy cow! I nearly started a coughing fit from the shock. One thousand dollars for one point? One bloody point!? This isn’t just a robbery it’s…. it’s…
The woman watched how the mask of politeness came off my face with an admirable composure.
“How many points you would like to purchase?”
I inhaled loudly.
Did I really think that it would be possible to keep any “leftover” money for myself? How bloody wrong I was! It’s only possible to buy fifty points with all the money I’ve got. And fifty points is nothing here! A couple of weeks’ worth of bus rides and a few trips to the supermarket, and that’s if I am lucky because I still have no clue about the cost of food here…
“Erm… I’d like to buy fifty points.” I handed the cashier the whole pack of my precious bank notes. Ultimately, I can earn more money later but I will never be able to get out of Tally without finding Laroche first, hence it is necessary to use all the means possible.
The cashier quickly counted the notes using the counting machine - they zoomed through it with a swishing sound, and then stared at me.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?”
I stood there motionless.
“Are you going to give me any coupons?” I knew I sounded sarcastic but I couldn’t help it.
The woman blinked at me with her black eye-lashes layered with mascara.
“The points are already on your counter. Please take a look at your bracelet.”
I raised my hand and looked at the small screen - and so they are: instead of a zero there was now a fifty. I looked at the woman again and asked in a total bewilderment:
“But what about the paper coupons? I used them to pay for the taxi and I’ll need them in a shop later…”
The cashier explained to me in a friendly tone:
“You do not need them. The paper coupons are inconvenient and short-lived. All taxi drivers and vendors can simply scan your bracelet, subtracting the amount required.”
A silence hung in the booth. Her heavily made-up eyes were piercing me patiently waiting for new questions. Still confused and amazed, I could not think of anything to say and I had nothing left to do but to simply thank the cashier and leave the booth.
As I stepped out onto the hot street I looked around, wondering where to go now. How big is this city and how hard will it be to find one particular person amongst all the others? Surely there must be an information desk somewhere, but where is it?
Once I reached the road I stopped on the sidewalk, looking at the bypassing cars. Many of them were about twenty or thirty years old; they sped past me squeaking their brake pads and uttering loud claps of the rusty exhaust mufflers. There were also completely new vehicles - sparkling, smooth, polished and shiny. These were certainly owned by the wealthy people – owners of the shops and restaurants, large ranches or employees of the banks - those who had the right to change these blue numbers on the counters. I glanced at the bracelet - number fifty was glowing dimly in the rays of the midday sun. Looking at the passers-by I noticed a policeman standing in the distance on the corner. Maybe I should ask him? If I don’t break any rules, why wouldn’t he answer some of my questions? I searched for a sign pointing to the one-way traffic - there wasn’t any and headed towards the crossing. As I approached the policeman he made a suspicious grimace.
“What do you want?” he muttered, wiping off the sweat flowing out of his cap with one hand and holding the baton with the other.
“Hello. I just wanted to ask.... Could you please tell me how to find the directory enquiries? I'm looking for someone but I don’t know their address.”
“And who is this person to you?” the policeman became even more suspicious.
“Urm…” I couldn’t think of an answer on the spot. “Well… You know… My friend and I saw him once in a bar and I really liked him. I even overheard his name but as I was ready go up to him it was too late and he was gone. And now I’d like to try…”
“Have you fallen in love, stupid girl?” an idiotic smile appeared on the man’s face. The way he was treating me made me blush with indignation and he mistook my red cheeks for an embarrassment. Good for me!
“Go away! I am not wasting any time on fools like you!”
I realised that my last chance to get some information is slipping away and started wailing loudly.
“Please mister what should I do now? Where should I go? Where do I look for him? I’ll die from the grief and it will be your fault…” I have never said anything more stupid in my entire life but it was too late to stop now and I had to play this role till the end. “How could you leave me in such…”
“Damn you, girl!” the policeman swore but the anger in his voice was fake. “You are like a little leech! If only someone loved me like this! Can you see the telephone box across the street?” I looked in the direction he was pointing at and saw a small dusty phone box. “There is an address book. If you know the name of your man you can find his address.”
“Thank you so much!” I thanked him again but this time it was sincere.
“Just don’t jump in his bed straight away.” his voice caught up with me as I walked towards to the phone box and I heard his muffled laugh.
“Of course not!” I waved at him and smiled. “What a bastard you are.” I said to myself as soon as I turned my back to him.
As I was flipping through the dusty pages of the address book I prayed for the name Laroche to be there. Please let it listed! God, let me accomplish this task easily and painlessly. My finger was slipping down the page and my lips were whispering Labaro... Lacey... Laderman... Laguerre... Lakovski... Lambeck... Larkins... Laroche... Laroche!!! I almost jumped up. I found him! And I found not just any Laroche - I found THE Laroche - the one I needed - Christopher!
I shook with the heavy book in the air ready to kiss its dusty pages, then I found pen and paper and wrote down the address, fortunately the column with the letter "L" only had one Laroche. I double checked the address again, put the sheet back in the bag and darted out in the street.
The summer air tasted very differently to me this time as if someone added an elusive scent of the forthcoming freedom to it.
The grass was rustling gently, golden sunrays were shimmering through the foliage and the daisies were rocking their pink heads on the roadside. For half a minute I stood motionless and then I shook my head in joy and walked to a nearby Tazi car park.
After a couple of steps I froze - I must call Laroche and arrange to meet him. There was no phone in my apartment so I have to call him from a phone box. As I got back to the phone, I took out a piece of paper with his contact details and began to study the manual which was explaining how to use a public telephone. Hardly moving my lips I read out: "Bring the front side of the bracelet to the scanner. After a beep your balance will be debited one point which will allow you to speak for ten minutes continuously or to make ten calls lasting one minute each. "
These terms suited me just fine and without any hesitation I put my bracelet to the scanner. There was a momentary beeping sound and the number of points on the screen shifted from fifty to forty-nine. Alright it worked. I began to dial Laroche’s number and soon I hear long ringing signals down the receiver. I was impatiently shifting from one foot to another waiting for an answer and when I heard a click, I almost bounced up on the spot. However the voice on the other end of the line was not Laroche - it was an answer machine. “Unfortunately I am not able to take your call right now but I will listen to your message as soon as I can. Thank you.”
A short melody played before I could start recording my message and I sighed brokenly trying to put together a short speech.
“Hi Christopher. We must meet up as a matter of urgency. I have a package for you ...” at this point I stumbled, frantically trying to figure out whether it is dangerous to mention the Corporation being in Tally or not? But if Laroche doesn’t understand the importance of this message he will most likely refuse to see me and I really didn’t want that to happen. So I continued as bluntly as possible. “This parcel is from the Corporation we both know. Since I have no phone in my flat I will call you again using a public phone later on today. I will ring you in two hours and after that I will continue trying to get hold of you every hour until you pick up. I hope to see you soon and please remember - this is very important!”
I hung up.
A steel cord swayed from side to side several times and then came to a standstill. That was it and now all I have left to do is just wait. I have to wait. I remained in the booth for a while as my mind was going through the message I’d just left for Laroche. Did I miss something important? No I didn’t, everything I said was correct; and after I came to this conclusion I left the phone box.
Where do I go now? An empty street was drowning in the sizzling air. Even the traffic seemed to have disappeared at this very minute -Tally was melting down in the summer heat. I had nothing else to do other than to call Laroche later on. Any sort of walk was out of the question as firstly, I had no idea where to go, and as I’ve discovered it was not safe to walk around not knowing the rules well enough - that could make my points disappear very quickly; secondly I wouldn’t be able to walk too far in the blazing sun anyway. I haven’t got any sun protection or headgear and having sunstroke wasn’t part of my plan, therefore I couldn’t think of anything else but getting home.
On the way to the Tazi car park I noticed an empty bus stop and stopped for a moment to read the time schedule. To my surprise there were two buses going to Bell-Oak Park from this stop - number fifty one and number eighteen. The bus number fifty one, according to the schedule was due to arrive any minute and instead of spending the remaining two points on the ride in yellow taxi I decided to use local public transport. I leaned my back on the iron pillar which was supporting the roof of the bus stop and prepared to wait, psyching myself up for the mathematical formula on a ticket - will it be hard to solve?
For some time there was hardly any noise on the empty street - just the sound of leaves whispering from a weak warm breeze and echoes of engines roaring in the distance, obviously the traffic was more lively on the next street down. A leisurely pedestrian was walking on the opposite side of the road – a middle-aged man, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, holding a folded newspaper. At this point, I suddenly felt like I’d never left Clendon City, everything seemed so normal, casual and serene - an ordinary city with the ordinary people. There was a smoky-coloured cat sitting against the wall of the brick house, enjoying the sun, a sound of TV murmuring on the background and a female’s voice inviting someone to have a cuppa.
All this felt like “Area 33” with its strange rules for prisoners never existed and Brahms (skinny as a mop) and Ted chewing his apple on the bus were never in my life; as if Carlos Brodsky at the border, the bracelet and the “The Rules and Regulations of Tally” book were just a product of my imagination.
But this strange crossover of the illusionary realities disappeared as soon as I looked at the bracelet. Here I was in Tally at the bus stop waiting for the bus, tickets for which had some mathematical formulas on them; and I was going to Bell-Oak Park because I haven’t found Laroche yet and haven’t passed the parcel that the Corporation gave me over to him. I’m still paying back the debt.
As soon as his name popped up in my mind I felt that familiar emptiness in my chest but it didn’t have time to spread out and fill me up as I saw the white dusty bus appear.
The front door swung open and I stepped into the cabin. The driver exhausted from the heat lazily pressed a button and the device built into the dashboard quickly printed out a small paper ticket. The driver handed it to me idly looking at the road through the windscreen and shut the door. I looked around and saw a turnstile that separates the passenger cabin from the driver and put the ticket into the scanner. The stamped ticket came straight out and the laser beam appeared to be waiting for the bracelet. I put my bracelet up to the scanner the same way I did in the phone box and passed the turnstile.
There were a few other people on the bus but I couldn’t waste any time looking at them - finding the number of my seat was more of an important task right now but contrary to my expectations there was no mathematical formula on my ticket. There was however a pattern of overlapping black and white lines going in different directions. I stopped in my tracks since I was already prepared to multiply and divide and now I was staring at the jammed piece of paper in my fingers. What are these lines about and where does it say my seat number? At the bottom of the ticket, as if mocking me, there was a message that I have two and a half minutes to solve the puzzle and if I don’t do it on time I’ll be fined five points. I swore to myself and looked helplessly at the people in the cabin but nobody seemed to care. I could feel how my whole body was filling up with panic and I could hear seconds ticking in my head. I looked at the chaotic interlocking lines again. What does this mean? A forest made of lines! The time was running out scarily quickly. What’s two and a half minutes? It is only hundred and fifty short seconds - very short seconds! I have to concentrate, I have to get focused! Now!
Using all my strength I pushed the fear away and concentrated on the picture. At first, my eyes went over the black sticks, clinging onto each and one of them, looking into every stopping at the smallest detail. How could I find the seat number amongst them? Gradually my eyes got tired from the scrutinizing and I looked at the entire picture once again; and at this very moment I thought I was beginning to understand something. Not allowing myself to think about the fading seconds I relaxed my eyes even more and tried to focus somewhere behind the piece of paper and almost jumped up with joy. Of course! Damn it! It’s a stereoscopic image! Once I managed to catch the right angle and not allow my eyes to focus anywhere else I immediately saw the number “17” made out of black and white lines - thanks to a friend of mine who took me to an exhibition of stereoscopic paintings several years ago! At the time I couldn’t understand how people could see things in the abstract colour paintings but eventually I learned to relax the eye muscles and started to enjoy seeing familiar outlines where you would never had thought they could be.
Jumping with happiness I ran to the seat number 17 and my bottom was immediately pressed against its rigid surface.
A woman behind me said quietly:
“You managed. You only had five seconds left...”
Happy and calm I sat there in silence, listening to the buzzing and creaking of the bus, looking at the scenery out of the window. This time the route was different to the one the taxi driver took earlier - now we were driving on the outskirts of Tally. I made this conclusion because of the farms, ranches and fields that we were passing. The mansions were seen in the distance - beautiful looking, mostly two-and three-storey houses. There were people working on the plantations - their bare, bronze, sweaty backs were glowing in the sun.
How hard it must be - to work at noon when the heat is at its worst!
The heads of some workers were covered up with hats but most people did not have anything on their heads. I felt sorry for these workers – do their employers care about their health at all? And if so, why don’t they buy or make some paper hats - they would only cost pennies. As soon as another corn farm disappeared around the corner there was an unploughed, baron land stretching out as far as the eye could see. But as soon as I thought there will be no more farms another one appeared in the distance – a white three-story stone house surrounded by the greenery and flowerbeds looked not just impressive but grand and somewhat terrifyingly beautiful: as if the architect of this building wanted to create an impregnable fortress at first but then changed his mind and added several columns, a few balconies and elegant roof to the construction. Right behind the garden which shaded the windows from merciless sun with green oaks there was an endless field with some tall plants growing on it. The bus was driving too far away from the field and I couldn’t see the kinds of plants that were growing there but the apparent difference from all the other farms was very noticeable: the high voltage electric fence was surrounding the whole area. The fence had interlacing razor wire, its spikes looked like sharp teeth twisted together and not leaving a single hole between them. A second later I saw some security guards walking along the perimeter with whips in their hands and this whole image made me feel sick. Oh, my God! Whatever will I see next? What have these poor people done to be placed in such conditions? However, some crimes carry the death penalty as the punishment and perhaps the option to work on the fields was not the worst they had. Yet the thought of me being amongst them was unbearable. I took my eyes off this awful view - are the guards’ whips real? - swallowed the lump in my throat and fixed my eyes on the back of the seat in front of me.
The air on the bus was so stuffy it was making me feel very thirsty, some water wouldn’t go amiss. Following this thought came another one - I desperately wanted a yogurt and some orange juice for breakfast this morning but I didn’t have any in my fridge.
This morning I rummaged through all the food in the fridge and decided that it wouldn’t be a bad idea to buy some vegetables for lunch and indulge myself in something sweet. It’s time to get familiar with the local shops, not that I was too fussy about what I eat but I was conscious of the fact that I’m limited in points. I was desperately missing food shopping itself as I really liked walking down the aisles full of different and bright packages. Sometimes I would just aimlessly push the trolley for my own enjoyment reading the labels, admiring neatly placed piles of fruits and vegetables, breathing the smell of the food from the deli. Although I haven’t got the means to treat myself to everything I wish - at least while I’m in Tally, I could afford to buy a few things. All the more so as Christopher Laroche has now been found and I just needed to get the parcel over to him and then I can go home. Home! This word felt as sweet and appealing as a scoop of an ice cream on a dry swollen tongue of some homeless person. Even the thought about Alex didn’t seem as depressing as before I immediately kicked myself for allowing this to enter my mind.
As soon as the surroundings became more familiar I picked up my bag and headed to the doors. The bus stop was located exactly opposite the one I saw this morning on the way to the bank and on the corner of the intersection I noticed a glass building with a sign "Supermarket № 2".
That is exactly what I’ve been looking for! And waving my light bag I went towards the building.
It was a lot chillier inside the shop. By the entrance doors I took a creaky trolley, put my bag in it and went further down the shop anticipating a pleasant time food shopping. My suspicions about the possible lack of selection did not reflect the reality – the choice of food here was amazing. On my way towards the diary section I was lazily glancing at the fat cans of corn and peas, pickles and a huge variety of olives. The abundance of goods and a nice melody coming from the speakers made me feel very optimistic. I looked in the fridges at the diary department and began choosing yoghurt. I really fancied something low-fat with a strawberry flavour but since the labels weren’t really descriptive I took the first yoghurt pot and read the text on it: “Dairy product with milk thistle”.
What’s milk thistle? What does it taste of? I couldn’t recall if I’ve ever heard it so I placed the pot back and decided to check out the other products.
Here they are! I found some strawberry yoghurt and chucked it in the trolley; the price for a pack of four was only half a point. Singing under my nose to an unpretentious song I continued with the shopping. What was next in my list? Oh, right! Juice!
A row of multi-coloured bottles stretched all the way from a wall to cashier. First thing my eyes caught was bottles of spirits which meant that alcohol was all