— You see? I had a good idea. Now the journalists needn’t know about them.
— Oh, they’ll come back. Things do. Tin Roof first, I think, then Potato Head.
— When do you expect the journalists?
— Any time. They ask all the wrong questions.
— Like what?
— Oh, things they don’t really want to know, like how did it feel exactly and what did the fat woman say?
— What did she say?
— Don’t you start, Someone. I mean, I wouldn’t trust you if you told me all your private scars and pimples immediately on first acquaintance. And you wouldn’t trust me if I told you mine.
— But you did tell me. About the egg.
— Don’t mention it.
— And the slices and nevertheless I trust you.
— I could hardly hide the evidence. I mean, I had to explain its origin.
— Ah, but I hid it for you. By having it baptised.
— You don’t hide things, Someone, merely by giving names.
— But Something, baptism doesn’t just give names, it gets rid of the original cause.
— Only for a time, Someone. The original cause comes back. You don’t understand much, do you?
— I understood more inside the coffin. The five geometries of the human psyche, for instance.
— Yes, well, I must go about my secret work before the journalists come.
— Oh, please, take me with you.
— No, no, I can’t do that.
— You can do anything, Something.
She looks at me with astonishment.
— All right then, on one condition.
— Yes?
— That when the journalists put their questions, you will remember everything I’ve said, and represent me truly.
— What, everything? But I thought –
— You think too much, Someone. Just listen. And use your eyes. You must admit you haven’t seen anything yet.
— I don’t admit, I agree. But you told me –
— I’ve told you a few things. I shall tell you more. But you see, when the journalists get at me, they ask all the wrong questions, and so of course they get all the wrong answers.
— They may ask me the wrong questions too.
— Oh, not of you, Someone. You know the five geometries and the language of orbits.
— But you do secret work as a girl-spy.
— Precisely. I can’t even elicit the right questions. And so you see, they can’t possibly understand. You’ll have to translate. You have the right equations. We’ll go and see the Travel Agent now, he’ll fix it all up for us.
— Who do you spy for, Something?
— Just keep your promise and your eyes and ears open.
The Travel Agent surrounds himself with pamphlets, maps and thin red lines in zigzags, parabolas, irregular pentagons. You didn’t have to make all that primitive noise. I deal in local colour only. How do you expect me to work out my percentages?
— Smile, Mr Travelogue, smile.
— That won’t help me. I never go anywhere, I just fill in the vouchers and you have to make primitive noise. See the Universe, says the notice above his head. The Management accepts no responsibility.
— We didn’t make the noise out of necessity, Mr. Travelogue, but from freedom of choice. What have you to offer us?
— It depends what you want to see. You can select any medium from infra-red to ultra-violet. Or a number of permutations.
— I’d like to use them all.
— Oh, you can’t do that, sir. You’d have to pay all the percentages from.01 to the twentieth power per cent.
— A thousand million million million!
— Where did I put the spectroscope? Ah, here. Now this shows some lovely colours. Black light –
— What about supercosmic?
— Very steep, sir, very steep. Outside the range.
— And infrasonic?
— Outside the range.
— Oh, Someone, you know nothing. Just keep your promise and your eyes and ears open. Didn’t you see the notice on the stairs says silence?
— Yes, but the notice here says –
— Listen to me, I do the knowing around here. Either you play it my way or I leave you to your own desires.
— We guarantee to smoothe out marital quarrels through our tours, sir, look at our motto behind your head: Time heals, spacetime heals faster. Your money refunded if not entirely satisfied.
— How can you satisfy money?
— Oh, money satisfies itself, sir. Only itself.
— You strike a safe bargain, don’t you?
— Stop quibbling, Someone. If I had known –
— Smile, Something, smile.
— Well … you smile first.
Outside by the swimming-pool Jonas begins the Blues again.
— Good God! Confirmation already.
— No, no. Listen before speaking. He plays Basin Street, not my responsibility at all. And don’t say Good God like that.
— Like what?
— Such a primitive noise, oh dear. I suffer and endure, all things and civilization considered.
— Come come, Mr. Travelogue, smile at the gentle sound, so sad, so melancholy, it should cheer you up.
— You come come. I haven’t got all day, you know.
— Oh, I thought you had a spacetime continuum. I apologise. What can you offer us?
— Well, you could select this simple tour through the canals. By private punt. You just follow the zigzags, though you may find the T-bend here a little difficult to negotiate. The white monks from the monastery in the meadow, however, provide a canal-pilot if desired.
— Don’t waste my time, Loguey dear, I can’t carry on my secret work with white monks breathing down my neck. Besides, we want to go further afield.
— Ah, yes, well, I do have another field for your research, speaking extragalactically, a whole range of fields, as I said, anything from ultra-violet to infra-red. Let me see –
— Why can’t we go supersonic? Above words I mean. I collect silences and after all the notice on the stairs does –
— You have a point there, Someone.
— Thank you. Besides, black light turns my stomach.
— How about it, Loguey?
— Well, if you insist, I could manage something, by special arrangement, just above ultra-violet. At fifteen to the fourteenth power per cent.
— A thousand million million!
— The excess profit goes entirely to the Save the Appearances Fund, I assure you. Just put your money in the box here and I’ll fill up the vouchers.
— Oh well. Just this once. For you, Someone.
— Thank you, Something. Thank you.
— Don’t mention it.
— Where do you get all that money, for heaven’s sake?
— I work for it, Someone, I told you. And don’t say for heaven’s sake. But you have a point. Thank you for your point. When do we go, Loguey?
— The vehicle will come in to land very soon. Expected time of arrival, let me see, lamda equals h over mass times velocity, why any minute now, unless it has arrived already.
— Oh good, in visible light, I want to photograph it.
— Put away your camera, Someone.
She touches my individual flan-pudding so that I feel naked and ask Why.
— Because you can’t photograph means of communication. You’d break the law.
— What law?
— Thou shalt not photograph means of communication. Secret means I mean.
— How do you expect me to tell the journalists all I’ve seen and heard without evidence? They won’t believe me.
— You’ll have to use your equations. Now, have you got everything? We’ll need the trolley, Loguey.