The journey, one of many, would have been of no consequence were it not for the potter's uneasy feeling that something bad was about to happen. He suddenly remembered what he had heard his daughter say, Some things will happen only the day after tomorrow, a few random words, with no apparent rhyme or reason, which she had been unable or unwilling to explain, I doubt very much she was sleeping, but I can't understand why she should have said she was dreaming, he thought, and then, as a continuance of the remem bered phrase, he allowed his mind to follow the same road, and the phrase began to ring in his head like an obsessive litany, Some things will happen only the day after tomorrow, some things will happen only tomorrow, some things will happen today, then he took up the sequence again and reversed it, Some things will happen today, some things will happen only tomorrow, some things will happen only the day after tomorrow, and he repeated and repeated it so many times that the meaning of tomorrow and the day after tomorrow finally lost all sound and sense, and all that remained in his head, like a danger light flashing on and off, Happen today, happen today, today, today, today, Today what, he asked himself abruptly, trying to shake off the absurd feeling of apprehension that made his hands shake as they gripped the steering wheel, I'm driving into town to pick up Marçal, I'm going to the buying department to tell them that the first batch is ready to be delivered, everything I'm doing is perfectly normal and ordinary and logical, I have no reason to be worried, and I'm driving carefully, there's not much traffic, the hijackings have stopped, at least I haven't heard about any, therefore, nothing out of the usual monotonous routine is going to happen to me, the same steps, the same words, the same gestures, the reception desk, the smiling assistant head of department or the rude one, or even the head of the buying department himself if he isn't in a meeting and takes it into his head to see me, then the van door opening, Marçal getting in, Afternoon, Pa, Good afternoon, Marçal, how was work this week, I don't know if you can really call ten days a week, but I don't know what else to call it, Oh, pretty much as usual, he'll say, We've finished the first batch of figurines, and I've arranged a delivery time with the buying department, I'll say, How's Marta, he'll ask, Oh, tired, but otherwise fine, I'll say, words we are constantly using, it wouldn't surprise me in the least if, as we were passing from this world to the next, we didn't dredge up the strength to respond to someone who had the imbecilic idea to ask how we were, Oh, dying, but otherwise fine, is what we would say. In order to shake off the company of the ominous thoughts that persist in bothering him, Cipriano Algor tried to look at the landscape outside, he did so out of sheer desperation because he knew perfectly well that he would find no solace in the depressing sight of plastic greenhouses stretching out on either side, as far as the horizon, which he could see even more clearly from the top of the small hill the van was climbing. And this is what they call the Green Belt, he thought, this desolation, this gloomy encampment, this flock of grubby blocks of ice that melt those who work inside them into pools of sweat, for a lot of people these greenhouses are machines, machines for making vegetables, nothing could be easier, it's like a recipe, mix all the ingredients together, set the thermostat and the hygrometer, press a button, and shortly afterward up pops a lettuce. Cipriano Algor's displeasure does not blind him to the fact that thanks to these greenhouses, he can have vegetables on his plate all year round, what he can't bear is that they should have chosen the name Green Belt for a place where that color is nowhere to be seen, apart from the few weeds that manage to spring up outside the greenhouses. Would you be any happier if the plastic sheeting were green, was the blunt question asked by the thought process that toils away on the lower landing of the brain, a restless thought process that is never satisfied with what was thought or decided by that on the upper landing, but Cipriano Algor preferred not to respond to that highly pertinent question, he pretended that he hadn't heard, perhaps because of the somewhat impertinent tone that all pertinent questions automatically adopt, simply because they have been asked, and however hard they try to disguise themselves. The Industrial Belt, which more and more resembles a continually expanding tubular construction, a network of pipes designed by an eccentric and built by a maniac, did not improve his mood, but at least his agitated, confused presentiment was now merely muttering quietly to itself. He noticed that the visible boundary of the shantytowns was now much closer to the road, like an army of ants that resumes its march after the rain has stopped, he gave a resigned shrug as he thought that soon the attacks on trucks would be bound to start again, and then, making a heroic effort to drive away the shadow sitting beside him, he joined the city's disorderly traffic. It was early yet to pick up Marçal, he had plenty of time to go to the buying department. He did not ask to speak to the head of the buying department, he knew very well that the matter which brought him there was merely an excuse to remind them of his existence, a visiting card so that they would not forget him or the fact that about thirty kilometers away a kiln was diligently firing clay, a woman was painting, and her father was making molds, and that all had their eyes fixed on the Center, and don't go telling me that kilns don't have eyes, because they do, if they didn't, they wouldn't know what they were doing, so they do have eyes, it's just that they're not like our eyes. He was greeted by the nice, smiling assistant head of department who had dealt with him on the previous occasion, So what brings you here today, he asked, The three hundred figurines are ready, and I just came to find out when you would like me to bring them in, Whenever you want, tomorrow if you like, Ah, I don't know that I can tomorrow, my son-in-law will be home on leave and he'll be helping me put the other three hundred in the kiln, The day after tomorrow, then, as soon as you can, though, because I've had an idea that I want to put into practice right away, To do with my figurines you mean, Exactly, do you remember that I mentioned drawing up a questionnaire, I do, yes, the one comparing the situation before buying and the situation afterward, Congratulations, you've got a good memory, Not bad for a man my age, Well, that idea, which we have used in a number of cases with excellent results, will consist in distributing a certain number of figurines to a fixed number of potential buyers, based on an as yet undefined social and cultural universe, to test their opinion of the product, obviously I'm simplifying matters, the way we ask our questions is, as you can imagine, much more complicated than that, To be honest, I've no experience in the area, sir, I've never asked the questions or been asked, Well, I'm even thinking of using your initial batch of three hundred in the questionnaire, I select fifty customers, provide each of them with a complete set of six figurines, gratis, and in a matter of days I will know their views, Gratis, said Cipriano Algor, does that mean you're not going to pay us, My dear sir, of course we'll pay you, the experiment is made at our expense, we will make sure any costs are covered, we would not want to do anything that might harm you. The relief felt by Cipriano Algor assuaged for a moment the question that had irrupted into his mind, that is, What will happen if the result of the questionnaire is negative, if the majority of the customers, or all of them, give the same definitive answer to all the questions, No, I'm not interested. He heard himself saying, Thank you, not just out of politeness, but out of fairness too, it isn't every day that someone comes along and soothes us with the benign information that they do not wish to do anything to harm us. Unease had begun gnawing at his stomach again, but now he was the one who would not let the question leave his mouth, he would depart as if he were carrying in his pocket a sealed letter to be opened only once he was on the high seas and in which his fate had been recorded, plotted, written, today, tomorrow, the day after tomorrow. The assistant head of department had asked, And what brings you here today, then he had said, Tomorrow if you like, and had concluded, The day after tomorrow then, it's true that this is quite simply the nature of words, they come and go, and go, and come, and come, and go, but why were these waiting for me here, why did they leave the house with me and stay with me during the whole journey, not tomorrow, not the day after tomorrow, but today, right now. Suddenly, Cipriano Algor hated the man standing before him, this nice, genial, almost affectionate assistant head of department, with whom the other day he had been able to discuss practicalities on equal terms, apart, of course, from the obvious distances and differences in age and social class, neither of which, or so it had seemed then, had been an impediment to a relationship founded on mutual respect. If someone sticks a knife in your guts, they should at least have the moral decency to wear a face in keeping with that murderous act, a face that oozes hatred and ferocity, a face that speaks of wild rage or even of inhuman coldness, but please, dear God, don't let them smile while they are tearing out your innards, don't let them despise you that much, don't let them feed you with false hopes, saying, for example, Don't worry, it's nothing, a couple of stitches and you'll be as good as new, or else, I sincerely hope that the results of the questionnaire prove favorable, believe me, few things would give me greater satisfaction. Cipriano Algor made a vague movement with his head, a gesture that could as easily have meant yes as no, which might indeed have meant nothing, then he said, I have to go and pick up my son-in-law.