“Forever…” I say out loud.
For some reason, my voice sounds false, falsehood insinuating its way into the very word itself. I look around me – I am surrounded by falsehood; my thoughts have nothing to cling to. “Where am I?” I ask myself, losing my temper: enough fooling around. It’s time to admit I am evidently the subject of some experiment. What did they give me – a drug, a hallucinogen? It’s a cruel joke – but what’s its purpose? And when am I going to be able to wake up?
Then I hear a cough and reluctantly open my eyes – forcing them apart. The screen on the wall has come alive; Nestor is on it, staring directly at me. “Hope you slept well,” he says. “Your day is going to be quite eventful.”
I peer silently into his face. Like yesterday, there is something about him that tells me things aren’t that simple. All my doubts recede; I’m almost ready to believe that everything is for real. That they’re not playing with me – I have indeed died, but now I am alive again, no matter how wild it sounds…
I would very much like to clear everything up at once, but again, I can’t find the right questions. The silence drags on; I’m painfully lacking for words.
“What is the ‘dance of the conscions’?” I ask finally, but all I get in reply is a condescending grin.
“That you will tell me yourself,” Nestor says. “And fairly soon, I hope.”
I just throw up my hands in dismay. “Although,” he continues, “you mustn’t get ahead of yourself. We have everything you need here for your convenience – providing your expectations of convenience are not unrealistically high. And, most importantly, don’t forget: you have a roommate. A female roommate, if I’m not mistaken; the creation and separation of the two sexes is one of nature’s most ingenious moves!”
“Yes, that may be,” I agree, “but all the same…”
Nestor shrugs his shoulders, looks down, leafs through something and suddenly says, “The session is over.”
“Already?” I ask, surprised, and exclaim, “Hold on, hold on! It’s not my roommate I need right now. You are my helper and I need help: please explain at least something to me, even if briefly… You are my counselor and I need counseling; there’s too much going on that I don’t understand!”
“Counsel is provided according to the schedule,” Nestor grins again, and I sense there is no arguing with him. “According to the schedule,” he repeats with emphasis, “and the schedule states that right now you should be socializing with your roommate. She’s probably waiting – so show a bit more consideration.” And with that, he terminates the conversation without so much as a goodbye.
I continue to look at the blank screen for a minute or two; then I get up and go to the window. Behind it is the same lawn, but now without the deer. With its disappearance, the entire scene looks somehow too static, as if the animation has been turned off.
Opposite the window are sliding doors. This is the entrance to the bathroom, where everything is shiny and clean. I look at the ceramic toilet bowl and shrug in bewilderment. Then I go up to the washstand and turn on the tap – I see that water really does flow from it. I put my hands under the cold stream and splash my face with pleasure for a long time, not worrying about soaking my clothes.
Straightening up, I regard myself in the mirror – my features are familiar to me, although only vaguely. After washing up, I feel my skin tingling slightly, but that soon passes. I touch my forehead and cheeks with my fingers – my sense of touch feels slightly delayed, as if it’s being transmitted via digital protocols. I do not need a towel; there is no trace of the water on me. The floor is also dry – now that is convenient, just as Nestor promised.
“Well,” I say out loud. “There’s nothing else for it. Socialization with my roommate it is then.”
I leave the bathroom, open the door to the living room and immediately see Elsa sitting on the couch.
“Well, about time!” she exclaims. “I was going to knock on your door myself. I’ve been waiting and waiting – and all you can do is sleep. It’s really not much fun being the first to move in!”
Today she is wearing a pants suit, high-heeled shoes and a white blouse. She looks like an advertising executive or a successful insurance agent. I regard myself and frown – yesterday’s clothes look rather forlorn and shabby.
“Good morning,” I greet her. “You’re so beautiful – I’m really impressed. How did you sleep? Do you have your own Nestor?”
“Of course I do,” Elsa replies. “Everyone has a Nestor. He’s such a sweetie, isn’t he?”
She gets up and offers me her hand, “I’m sorry if I sounded reproachful. I’m not angry with you at all. We should avoid quarrels; they’re the last thing we need!”
I think I understand her very well. “Now let me tell you about the apartment,” continues Elsa, “but first let’s play…”
She goes to the kitchen shelves and beckons me over. On the shelves are a lot of utensils – enough for a small family. “A small demonstration,” she says, taking a soup plate and suddenly, without turning around, hurling it at me. My body reacts: one leg bends slightly at the knee, my head feints away from the impact, my shoulders twist and my hands are thrown slightly in front of me. I instinctively take up a fighting stance as the plate whistles past, hits the wall and silently dissolves into it, leaving no trace whatsoever.
“Did you see that?” Elsa shakes her head. “And look at you, ready to spring into action. Relax, we’re not fighting. I’m just showing you how things are here. And here’s another trick – look…”
I grin, relax my muscles and lower my guard while she approaches me, swaying her hips. She comes up close, very close, and then suddenly takes another step, passing right through me. I don’t feel a thing, just a whiff of juniper, and Elsa smiles as if nothing has happened.
“Believe me, I did that very tactfully,” she says. “Out on the street, some people are so rude when they walk through you, the fuckers. Someone did it to me on my very first day, the bitch… Sorry for my language – in fact, I rarely swear. I’m a well-brought-up girl from a decent family.”
“Do you really smell of juniper?” I ask.
“A fake,” she replies with a wave of her hand. “As you see, we are more like phantoms than people with real bodies. You, for instance, have no smell at all. It’s a pity – in my first life everyone remarked on how nice I smelled.”
The careless ease with which my roommate talks about her “first life” grates on me. It seems suspicious… What if she is also a part of this conspiracy, one of those who are against me? I feel my earlier doubts returning but put on a brave face, trying to keep them hidden. Maybe Elsa is just being too lighthearted – and, besides, she’s been here three days already; she’s had some time to get used to it.
Then we find ourselves in the kitchen again; Elsa smiles mysteriously and sends a pile of plates flying onto the floor – with the same effect. “Don’t worry, I’m not a drama queen,” she reassures me. “But it’s not only drama queens who smash the crockery every now and then. Oh, while we’re here, have a look in the refrigerator. Do you like fried eggs? I’ll be fixing you your breakfasts. The ham and eggs here smell like the real thing. And even seem to taste of something!”
We go into my bedroom and head straight to the bathroom. “A fake,” says Elsa, running her hand around. “There’s little point in washing, and you certainly don’t need the toilet bowl. Although I admit, I do love the showers here – you know, the sound of the water and the warmth. It’s so relaxing – a haven of peace. And my bathroom is the color of a translucent wave. The color of a calm, tranquil sea. By the way, are you surprised that the first thing I check in a man’s bedroom is the shower? Ha-ha – only joking. I’m a very good girl!”