The State Of The Art Read Online Free PDF Page B

with peacocks sewn onto it, the myriad feathers like displayed eyes ...
    'What did it tell you?' Linter asked.
    I shrugged. 'What I said. It said it wanted me to have a talk with you.'
    He smiled in an unimpressed sort of way as though the whole conversation was hardly worth the effort, then looked away, through the window. He didn't seem to be going to say anything. A flash of colour caught my eye, and I looked over at a large television, one of those with small doors that close over the screen and make it look like a cabinet when it isn't in use. The doors weren't fully shut, and it was switched on behind them.
    'Do you want -?' Linter said.
    'No, it's -' I began, but he rose out of the seat, gripping its elegant arms, went to the set and spread its doors open with a dramatic gesture before resuming his seat.
    I didn't want to sit and watch television, but the sound was down so it wasn't especially intrusive. 'The control unit's on the table,' Linter said, pointing.
    'I wish you - somebody - wish you'd tell me what's going on.'
    He looked at me as though this was an obvious lie rather than a genuine plea, and glanced over at the TV. It must have been on one of the ship's own channels, because it was changing all the time, showing different shows and programmes from a variety of countries, using various transmission formats, and waiting for a channel to be selected. A group in bright pink suits danced mechanically to an unheard song. They were replaced with a picture of the Ekofisk platform, spouting a dirty brown fountain of oil and mud. Then the screen changed again, to show the crowded cabin scene from A Night At The Opera.
    'So you don't know anything?' Linter lit a Sobranie. This, like the ship's 'Hmm', had to be for effect (unless he liked the taste, which has never been a convincing line). He didn't offer me one.
    'No, no, no I don't. Look ... I can see the ship wanted me here for more than this talk ... but don't you play games too. That crazy thing sent me down here in that Volvo; the whole way. I half expected it not to have baffled it either; I was waiting for a pair of Mirages to come to intercept. I've got a long drive to Berlin as well, you know? So ... just tell me, or tell me to go, all right?'
    He drew on the cigarette, studying me through the smoke. He crossed his legs and brushed some imaginary fluff off the trouser cuffs and stared at his shoes. 'I've told the ship that when it leaves, I'm staying here on Earth. Regardless of what else might happen.' He shrugged. 'Whether we contact or not.' He looked at me, challenging.
    'Any ... particular reason?' I tried to sound unfazed. I still thought it must be a woman.
    'Yes. I like the place.' He made a noise between a snort and a laugh. 'I feel alive for a change. I want to stay. I'm going to. I'm going to live here.'
    'You want to die here?'
    He smiled, looked away from me, then back. 'Yes.' Quite positively. This shut me up for a moment.
    I felt uncomfortable. I got up and walked round the room, looking at the bookshelves. He seemed to have read about the same amount as me. I wondered if he'd crammed it all, or read any of it at normal speed: Dostoevsky, Borges, Greene, Swift, Lucretius, Kafka, Austin, Grass, Bellow, Joyce, Confucius, Scott, Mailer, Camus, Hemingway, Dante. 'You probably will die here, then,' I said lightly. 'I suspect the ship wants to observe, not contact. Of course -'
    'That'll suit me. Fine.'
    'Hmm. Well, it isn't ... official yet, but I ... that's the way it'll go, I suspect.' I turned away from the books. 'It does? You really want to die here? Are you serious? How -'
    He was sitting forward in the chair, combing his black hair with one hand, pushing the long, ringed fingers through his curls. A silver stud decorated the lobe of his left ear.
    'Fine,' he repeated. 'It'll suit me perfectly. We'll ruin this place if we interfere.'
    'They'll ruin it if we don't.'
    'Don't be trite, Sma.' He stubbed the cigarette out hard, breaking it in half,