The Living by Anna Starobinets Read Free Book Online

hold of me in the Wastes, or something else, I don’t know – but here he’s always stronger than me. If I make any attempt to leave, to change the setting or wind time forward he responds the same way – he puts me back in the Wastes of Solitude. And starts the count again from zero.
    I wait for a thousand days. There’s nowhere for me to go, nothing to think about and no one to talk to. I can’t invite any of my other real friends to visit me in the Wastes – Ef only likes
luxury
for two, and group
acts
are blocked in his settings. Sometimes I
create
phantom friends for myself in the Wastes. Ef doesn’t touch them, doesn’t react, but I soon cancel them myself anyway. They always end up somehow flat and boring, with indistinct narrow faces, with movements that aren’t quite right and a wooden gait. They give voice to my thoughts with my words, they seem to me like hungry ghosts, heralds of my madness. I
cancel
them and wait for Ef. I’m powerless. I only have one way out – leaving
luxury
mode, one-sided termination of the
act
.
    Only once, on one of the first times, did I do it. I broke off the
act
. Ef was furious. He left and didn’t appear in my cell for a few months. He said that he couldn’t bear it when the
act
was broken off without his knowledge… With arguments, pleading and promises I tempted him back. I swore that I’d be a good girl from now on. That I’d never break off the
act
. That I’d wait for him in the Wastes of Solitude. What else did I have left?
Luxury
is the best way to get close to someone.
Luxury
is the best way to draw out someone’s secrets.
    I wait for a thousand days. I sit on my haunches and I am filled with a sadness that’s so penetrating that it’s nice even. I am alone. My phantom friends tell me, ‘You’re alone here, Cleo.’ ‘You can’t carry on, Cleo.’ ‘You can’t stand this any longer.’ ‘This is torture.’ I close my eyes. I pray, I dream about this monster coming quicker. He is my saviour, my hope, my reward. I’m waiting for him. I can’t carry on without him. On the thousandth day he comes, and I let him do whatever he wants to me. He is my lover. My saviour. I am happy to do anything, as long as he stays with me.
    And then, while we’re still in
luxury
, but after the
act
, when he’s knackered, happy and trusting, when he is in sleep mode, that’s when I ask him a couple of questions and he answers them. And I note down his answers in a file called ‘Nameless’.
    …That’s what it’s normally like, but this time everything is different. There’s no jungle, no Wastes, no red dress. We stay in my cell and he hovers about stupidly then sits on the edge of the sofa. He’s completely passive, he is expecting something from me – I try to figure out what exactly. I ask him.
    cleo:
you want me to do everything myself today?
ef:
yes
    This is a new one. This puts me on my guard.
    I make us some jungle with long, moist plants in all shades of ‘feeling lucky’. I put on a short, ‘busy’ dress… Something’s wrong with
luxury
. His reaction is paradoxical. I don’t feel any pleasure from his side. He carefully probes an oily liana, covered in sap, with his finger. He
cancels
it and pulls his hand away sharply when the plant disappears. He turns his face towards me, examines my dress. I can feel the hem creeping downward, the synthetic cloth catching on my uneven skin, tickling my legs. It’s nice… He laughs suddenly. He changes the cut and the colour and the material. Now I’m wearing a long black silk dress.
    So we stand there. Among the lianas, in the bright jungle. He’s obviously not planning on chasing me. He grudgingly, lazily,
cancels
another couple of plants…
    I say to him,
    cleo:
do you want to go to the wastes of solitude?
ef:
lovely name
cleo:
thanks i thought of it myself
i think it suits it
ef:
yes i like it
i want to go to the wastes please
cleo:
you want to go to the wastes yourself?!
ef:
yeah
    Finally I realise.