Waiting for the Dark, Waiting for the Light

He felt an unexpected sense of uneasiness, as though he'd made a mistake and it had suddenly come back to haunt him.

He ought to have invited the student who could easily have been his son. It wouldn't have been so difficult to find out his name. But he might have felt embarrassed in front of him now.

He drank some cognac and went to look for Peter, whom he had invited. He found him in conversation with Halama.

That of course is the role of sons in the lives of their fathers — to remind them what they had to be ashamed of.

'I didn't know you knew each other,' he said, when he'd led Peter aside.

'Of course we do. A few years ago he tried to stop me from being a custodian.'

'Why?'

'He knew me from the faculty and considered me a subversive element.'

'And now he's talking to you?'

'Why shouldn't he talk to me? It's over and done with. And now he's your guest, just as I am. He's offering me a place in his production team because he doesn't think I'll be in television much longer.'

'Is that what he thinks? Nobody's going to fire you.'

'No one fired you either.'

'But I had reasons for leaving.'

'What were they? You always claimed you were waiting for freedom,' said Peter. 'It seems to me you could use it for something better than this.'

'Possibly, but I don't intend to do this for the rest of my life.'

'Here's hoping you're not just making excuses. But your decision is your affair. Maybe I'd have done the same thing in your place.'

But Peter wasn't in his place, and he had always acted differently. Or not always perhaps, but usually. With regard to Alice, they'd ended up the same. They should drink to that, drink to the fact that at least in something they had come to the same end.

'No one's throwing me out,' said Peter. 'But I probably won't be staying there much longer. I don't know people in broadcasting, and they don't know me. I was out of the picture for far too long. They don't think of me as someone who understands their business. I'm just someone who's been sent in to sort things out.'

'Do you feel unappreciated?'

'No, I feel alone.'

'And would you work for him, for Halama?'

Peter became animated. 'Never! Maybe I'll go back to being a castle custodian.'

'Back to Alice?'

'There are a lot of castles. In some cases, the former owners are getting them back. Maybe I'd get on with some of them.'

'What makes you think that?'

'They were out of things for a long time too.'

He laughed. 'You don't mean any of this seriously.'

The music began to play and he went to get another drink. No one is the same as they were, he thought. Nothing has stayed the same as it was.

Little Ivens stopped him. 'Would you like to say something on camera about your business, Pavel? So I can help my old buddies wipe out the competition?' He grinned at him as affably as he knew how.

'And how are things going for you?' Pavel asked.

'Oh, it's fine — you know how it is. The work's pretty much the same. There's a little more elbow-room but not all that much. You get so used to watching yourself, you don't overstep the mark.'

'But you don't have to watch yourself.'

'Maybe not,' he admitted, 'but like I say, it's in my blood. I'm always trying to satisfy the people who make the decisions. I think it's the same all over the world.'

Or perhaps, Pavel thought, the world around us has changed, and now we're trying to recreate it in its old form.

Again he noticed the strawberry-blonde. He wondered who had invited her here, and why. He went over to her, bowed slightly and asked her to dance. She nodded and looked at him curiously. 'Do we know each other?'

'We met some time ago. You told me about your husband and his travels.'

'These days anyone can travel.'

'You don't travel any more?'

She shook her head. 'My husband's gone into politics. He's working at the Ministry.'

Perhaps that was why she was here. 'Foreign Trade?' he asked.

'No, Privatization. But that's foreign trade too.' She laughed. Not a word about those cheques for unimaginable amounts. Either she'd made up with her husband, or she hadn't had as much to drink as she'd had the last time they met. He felt certain that large amounts of money were still changing hands under the table.

'Have you moved?'

'No, I have enough to do in. . where I lived when we met.' Perhaps she'd managed to place him.

'Business?'

She looked at him warily. 'Something like that.' She said no more, as if she wanted to concentrate fully on the dance.

They'd barely finished dancing when Sokol came up to him and, with an apology, drew him aside. 'I'd like to introduce you to someone. This guy thinks erotic videos will sell very well. He has money, and if we are interested he'll come in with us.'

'You know I can't stand videos, even when they're not erotic.'

'Whatever. But you should meet him. It looks like a great business. And if we don't take him up on it, he'll go in with someone else.'

'I couldn't care less. I won't do it.'

'I'd like you to talk to him.'

'Here?'

'You know a better place? We don't have to commit ourselves.'

'I won't talk to him. I'm not in the mood, and I'd mess up the deal.'

'So you'll leave it up to me? Good. But I hope you won't suddenly get all unreasonable if I work something out with him.' He walked directly across to a young man with yellow hair tied in a short pony-tail. He had an earring and was wearing a purple jacket. He probably owned a massage parlour or something like that.

The strawberry-blonde was waiting for him. Would she make love to him again in an empty room? That wouldn't

be possible here. They would have to go somewhere else. He didn't even know if she was here alone or not.

By now he was having trouble breathing, and the floor had begun to heave beneath him. It was time to leave. He looked at the woman, who had gone off to get a drink. He still didn't know her name. She was probably here by herself. He could always ask her. But he didn't feel like asking, not about that, not about anything. He didn't expect answers from anyone any more, not even from himself.

He wanted to leave by himself and go as far away as possible. Somewhere where he knew no one, where aliens were really aliens, a place where there were no people at all, only rocks and birds.

FILM

Fuka walks around the food tables towards the exit. He passes the bar, where they are still serving drinks. He reaches out for a full glass, knocks it back, and continues on his way.

Black diplomatic limousines are parked outside waiting for the guests. The limousine that brought him is no longer there. He hurries past, trying not to see them, and looks up at the stars shining though the trees. When he walks through the gate and past the guard he almost breaks into a run. He hails a taxi. He should go to Ella's, but he now thinks of her as part of the bizarre world ruled over by that deranged old crackpot.

The sky above the rooftops is turning light by the time he gets back to the studio. He sits down in a chair and stares straight ahead. He can still see the old man, and the stretcher.

After a while he gets up, goes to the telephone and dials a number. 'It's me,' he says to Ella. 'I'm back.'

'Where are you calling from?'

'From my place.'

Why didn't you come here?'

'I didn't want to wake you up.'