Stepanka’s mouth had fallen open.
‘I don’t know. I’ve never met him,’ he said. He licked his lips. ‘The Chief will have to arrange it again, then. And he isn’t well himself. He said nothing about the Chief?’
‘Nothing. Only about the girl.’
‘Well. I don’t know.’ He looked at his watch again. ‘But come — we’ll just catch the guards. Or we can stand and freeze there for half an hour.’
He produced the torch and the piece of paper from his pocket and attended to the lock in the grille. Then they were out in the cement passage again and going up the stairs. ‘It’s a part of the building they never used. I knew nothing of it.’
In the tiny room above, Stepanka looked through the periscope, and he motioned Kolya to look.
Through the periscope the brightly lit corridor was quite empty. ‘In one minute they’ll come,’ Stepanka whispered. ‘Don’t make a sound. You can hear through the wall. The moment they’ve gone is the safest. It’s what I did before.’
Kolya remained looking through the periscope, and in a minute the two figures appeared. They materialised suddenly, from the far end of the corridor, one behind the other, a few paces apart. The leading guard peered through each spy hole, and then checked each bolt; and the second made a mark on a clipboard. As they approached he could hear their footsteps and their voices repeating the name of each room checked.
They checked the dormitory, and they checked the washroom. Then they tried the laundry, and that was the last. Now they were only a few feet away, and through the periscope Kolya watched them; and as their backs retreated he gave place to Stepanka at the periscope.
Stepanka remained peering intently through it, and then he nodded and manipulated the lock, and switched the torch off and opened the wall.
Like a mouse he scurried to the washroom and drew the bolts, and Porter swiftly entered and closed the door, and heard the faintest scrape as the bolts went home again. He stood for some minutes with his ear to the door but heard nothing more; neither the shuffle of footsteps nor any other sound.
He went quietly into the dormitory.
A little snoring there; the Evenks all asleep. In the blue lighting he undressed and returned to his bunk, and for some moments, drifting off, thought of the girl in the tunnel, and of a night with Stalin, and prison camps and the exploration of space. Then he thought what he could say to an ape and what the ape would say to him.
43
‘Ludmilla — Ludmilla, my dear, how are you?’
‘Thank you, I am well.’
‘I have brought a visitor. You don’t mind seeing a visitor, Ludmilla?’
‘No, I don’t mind,’ the ape said, and put her glasses on.
She smiled at them from the bed. She had a sweet face, although her eyes were bandaged. She was wearing a nightie; and also, Porter saw, a number of other bandages. Like Rogachev she seemed to have lost much hair and skin. It took him a moment to realise that the glasses had gone on over the bandaged eyes and that she was now shielding them slightly with her hand.
‘Is the light too strong for you?’
‘Only for a moment, when it came on.’
‘They don’t hurt — your eyes?’
‘No, they don’t hurt, Uncle.’
‘She has no eyes,’ Rogachev said, in English. ‘A result of the explosion. We could have restored them but I wouldn’t put her through the operation. She hasn’t long to live. You are seeing well, my dear?’ he asked in Russian.
‘Yes, I am seeing well, Uncle.’
‘This visitor is Raven. Are you pleased to meet him?’
‘I am pleased to meet you,’ Ludmilla said, and extended her hand.
‘Ludmilla. I am very pleased to meet you,’ Porter said, and shook the hand. The palm was brown, the back of it a blotchy pink, tufted with down. The face was similarly blotched and tufted. It was finely boned and there was a sweet docility about it, a thoughtful docility as she gazed through her spectacles. But she was certainly an ape.
‘You were hurt, I hear,’ he said.
‘Yes, I was hurt.’
‘How did it happen?’
‘In the fire. Uncle made me better.’
‘Was it a long time ago, the fire?’
‘She hasn’t much idea of time,’ Rogachev said in English. ‘It was a long time, Ludmilla — days and days. But it didn’t hurt for long. Tell Raven how nicely you see now.’
‘I see nicely now,’ Ludmilla said, smiling.
‘Take your glasses off, my pet.’
Ludmilla took them off, and Rogachev shone a torch at the bandages. ‘Now we’ll play a game again,’ he said. ‘Have I put the light on?’
‘No, of course you haven’t.’ Ludmilla was smiling.
‘All right. Now,’ Rogachev said, and switched the torch off. ‘Now what have I done?’
‘Silly! You haven’t done anything,’ Ludmilla said, giggling. She felt for his hand, and he moved it, and she groped in the air until he gave her it. She squeezed the hand and kissed it, and he bent and kissed hers and then her blue lips.
‘My little sweetheart — you’re so clever! Stay in the dark a moment. I want Raven to examine you. It won’t hurt.’ He parted the sparse hair behind Ludmilla’s ears. ‘The glasses are her eyes,’ he said in English. ‘And these are the terminals.’
A small metallic strip was set behind each ear.
‘It’s a very small implant, smaller than a pacemaker. The trick is to make the right junction. She has practically 20–20 vision now — the lenses self-focus, like the quite cheap video cameras. These are set in a plasma. Take a look at them.’
Porter picked up the glasses. There was a vague flutter of movement in the lenses as he raised them, and at the end of each arm he saw the metal connecting strip.
‘Of course with the same principle you can fabricate an eye in its natural socket — much more complex. Put the glasses on again, my dear,’ Rogachev said, and put them in her hand, and Ludmilla slipped the glasses on, smiling at him.
‘Will you show Raven how well you read?’
‘Yes, I will show him,’ Ludmilla said, slowly.
‘Ah, my little sweetheart, you’re tired. Is it this room? Don’t you like this room?’
‘It’s … a nice room,’ Ludmilla said, gently.
‘It’s only for tonight, so that Raven can see you. We won’t read, then. She reads,’ he told Porter. ‘Just simple sentences. We won’t read. We’ll look at pictures. You like pictures. Raven hasn’t seen this book. Show him the pictures.’
He handed Porter a book from the bedside table.
‘Well, this looks a nice book,’ Porter said.
‘Oh, it’s a nice book,’ Ludmilla said.
‘I wonder − what’s this?’ He had stopped at a page. There was a big picture on every page.
‘This is a sledge,’ Ludmilla told him.
‘Oh, of course! Is it — a blue sledge?’ he said, peering.
‘No! A red sledge,’ Ludmilla said.
‘I was only playing games.’
‘I know you were,’ Ludmilla said, and laughed at him.
‘Well, this one I know. A water tap! I can wash myself.’
‘No — silly!’ Ludmillia said and giggled again, covering her mouth. ‘It’s a samovar! With a samovar you make tea.’
‘She’s so clever. You’re so clever, my pretty,’ Rogachev said. ‘But now you must sleep. Raven wanted to see you so much, so I brought him. Do you like Raven?’
‘Yes, I like him,’ Ludmilla said.
‘I like you,’ Porter told her.
‘You can kiss her. She likes being kissed,’ Rogachev said. ‘But no pressure on her body, she is very fragile.’