The Watched

IX

On the morning of the fifth day Ordier awoke to a new realization: he had resolved the dilemma. As he lay beside the sleeping Jenessa, he knew he accepted the fact that the Qataari had selected him, and he also knew why. He had met several Qataari in the north before he emigrated, and had made no secret to them of his work. They must have identified him here; he had been selected because of the scintillas. But more than this: until this waking Ordier had feared the idea, for it implied that he was a prisoner of the Qataari will, but this new understanding actually freed him. There was no further reason for his obsessive curiosity. He need never again agonize about missing the ritualized ceremony, because the ritual would not take place until he was there to observe it . He need never again return to the claustrophobic cell in the wall, because the Qataari would wait. They would wait for his arrival, as they would wait for others’ departure. Lying in his bed, staring up at the mirrored ceiling, Ordier realized that the Qataari had liberated him. The girl was being offered to him, and he could accept or refuse according to his whim. Then Jenessa, waking beside him, turned over and said: “What’s the time?” Ordier looked at the clock, told her the time. “I’ve got to hurry this morning.” “What’s the rush?” “Jacj’s catching the ferry to Muriseay. The aircraft will be ready today.” “Aircraft?” “To scintillate the Qataari,” Jenessa said. “We’re intending to spray them tonight or tomorrow night.” Ordier nodded. He watched Jenessa as she rolled sleepily from the bed, and walked naked to the shower cubicle. He followed her and waited outside, imagining her voluptuous body as he always did, but for once he was incapable of lustful thoughts. Afterwards he walked with her to the car, watched her drive away. He returned to the house. Reminding himself of his new existential state he made some coffee, then took it out on to the patio. The weather was hot again, and the scraping of the cicadas seemed especially loud. A new crate of books had arrived the previous day, and the swimming pool looked clean and cold. He could make it a busy day. He wondered if the Qataari were watching him now; if their scintillas lay between the paving stones, in the branches of the vines, in the soil of the overgrown flower beds. “I’ll never spy on the Qataari again,” he said aloud, into the imagined aural pick-ups. “I’ll go to the folly today, and tomorrow, and every day,” he said. “I’ll move from this house,” he said. “I’ll rent it to Parren, and I’ll live with Jenessa in the town.” “I’ll watch the Qataari,” he said. “I’ll watch them until I have seen everything, until I have taken everything.” He left his cushioned recliner and roamed around the patio, gesturing and waving, adopting elaborate postures of deep thought, of sudden decision, of abrupt changes of mind. He played to the invisible audience, remonstrating with himself for his indecision, declaiming his freedom to act at will, declaring with mimed tears his independence and responsibility. It was an act, but not an act, for free will liberates the purposeful and restrains the irresolute. “Am I interrupting anything?” The voice, breaking into his ridiculous charade, startled Ordier, and he turned around in anger and embarrassment. It was Luovi Parren, standing by the door to the lounge. Her large leather bag was slung as usual across her shoulder. “The door was open,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind.” “What do you want?” It was impossible for Ordier to keep the incivility out of his voice. “Well, after my long walk I’d appreciate something to drink.”

“Have a coffee. I’ll get another cup.” Furiously, Ordier went into the kitchen and found a cup. He stood by the sink, resting both hands on the edge and staring into the bowl in mindless rage. He hated being caught off guard. Luovi was sitting in the shade, on the steps that led down from the verandah. “I thought you’d be with Jacj,” Ordier said when he had poured her some coffee. He had recovered from the surprise of her unwelcome arrival sufficiently at least to make an effort toward politeness. “I didn’t want to see Muriseay again,” Luovi said. “Is Jenessa here?” “Isn’t she with Jacj?” Ordier was distracted; he wanted his illusion of free will again. “I haven’t seen her. Jacj left two days ago.” Ordier frowned, trying to remember what Jenessa had said. She had left the house only half an hour ago, to see the ferry leave, she said; if Luovi had walked from the town they should have passed each other on the road. And didn’t Jenessa say that Parren was catching the ferry this morning? “Jacj has gone to charter an aircraft, I take it?” “Of course not. The Qataari camp was scintillated three nights ago. Didn’t you hear the engine?” “No, I didn’t! Did Jenessa know this?” “I’m sure she must,” Luovi said, and smiled the same sparse smile he had seen the day she came back from the folly. “Then what’s Jacj doing on Muriseay?” “Collecting the monitoring equipment. Do you mean Jenessa didn’t tell you any of this?”

“Jenessa told me—” Ordier hesitated, regarding Luovi suspiciously. Her manner was as sweetly polite as that of a suburban gossip breaking news of adultery. She sipped her coffee, apparently waiting for his reply. Ordier turned away, took a breath. It was a time for instant decision: to believe this woman, or to believe the words and behavior of Jenessa, who in the last few days had done or said nothing that roused the least suspicion. As he turned back to face her, Luovi said: “You see, I was hoping I would find Jenessa here, so we could talk things over.” Ordier said: “I think you should go, Luovi. I don’t know what you want, or what you’re trying to—” “Then you do know more about the Qataari than you’ve said!” “What’s that got to do with it?” “As far as I know, everything! Isn’t that what the folly was built for in the first place?” “The folly? What are you talking about?” “Don’t think we don’t know, Ordier. It’s time Jenessa was told.” Five days ago, Luovi’s insinuations would have gone straight through Ordier’s defenses to his guilty conscience; that was five days ago, though, and since then everything had become more complex. “Look, get out of my house! You’re not welcome here!” “Very well.” Luovi stood up, and put down her cup with a precise motion. “You’ll take the consequences then?” She turned and walked back into the house. Ordier followed, and saw her leave through the main door and walk down the broken terrain of the hillside toward the track. He was confused and angry, trying to put some logic into what had just happened. Did Luovi know as much as she seemed to be implying? Had she really come to the house to see Jenessa, or was it just to make a scene? Why? What could her motives conceivably have been? Why should she imply that Jenessa had been lying to him? The sun was high, and white light glared down across the dusty countryside. In the distance, Tumo Town was shimmering in the haze. Watching Luovi striding angrily away through the heat, her heavy bag banging against her side, Ordier felt a paradoxical sense of courtesy come over him, and he took pity on her. He saw that she had apparently lost her way and was not heading directly toward the track, but was moving across the hillside parallel to the ridge. He ran after her. “Luovi!” he called as he caught up with her. “You can’t walk all the way back in this heat. Let me drive you.” She glanced at him angrily, and walked on. “I know exactly where I’m going, thank you.” She looked toward the ridge, and as Ordier fell back behind her he was aware of the deliberate ambiguity.