Radir had said he felt sorry for her, a statement she had viewed as unforgivable at the time. The psychiatrist watched her, his face contemplative above his steepled hands. Adelaide found she did not care any more. He could think what he liked. He could pity her, if it would make him answer.
“Axel’s last session,” she said. “Were there any signs that he might be planning something?”
“You’ve had the report, Miss Rechnov. Your entire family has had the report, albeit via five separate requests.”
“It’s not the same as hearing about it. He came to see you here, didn’t he?”
Radir swivelled slightly in his chair so that he faced away from her. He might have been recalling the visit; he might have been absolving himself of responsibility for what he was about to say.
“Your girl, Yonna. She brought him. He exhibited no signs that it was under duress, appeared willing to be here. He was-as he always was with me-at times lucid and capable of maintaining a conversation. He called me Doctor, but did not know my name, or if he did, he chose not to use it. And then, as if a switch had been pressed, he would become completely absent for minutes at a time. Lost in his own world. Unresponsive.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Ordinary things, never specific people. The weather. The ocean. He often talked about the ocean, he said he liked to listen to its voice late at night.”
“Did he mean the horses?”
“I suspect it may have been one and the same to him.”
“Is, Doctor. It is.”
“My apologies, Miss Rechnov.”
“Did he ever mention a balloon?”
“Not that I recall.”
“You’re frowning, Doctor.”
“The balloon… Something about that word rings a bell. But not from my sessions with Axel. Perhaps another patient.”
“Did he-did he ever talk about leaving the City?”
“Not directly. I would say that Axel was aware of the City’s limitations, even in an abstract capacity. Osiris is too small, he said once. We think we’re free but we’re not.”
“What do you think he meant by that?”
“Feelings of entrapment are a common theme among those I see, Miss Rechnov. But I might add that we live in a quarantined city. Human beings are not designed for confinement, however vast and exquisitely made the prison; the explorer in us will out.”
She sat for a moment, considering this. What if Axel had met the airlift through Radir?
“Doctor, do you ever see airlifts? Ex-westerners?”
“I cannot give you information on my clients.”
“You know my family think he’s dead.”
Radir looked at her. She could see him selecting his words.
“Miss Rechnov, I am-saddened that I could not help your brother. As I have explained in the past, I could offer no diagnosis; Axel fit no specifications. Over the years I have seen patients who have, through various causes, withdrawn in some way from typical social interaction, for a longer or shorter period of time. Those who suffer post-traumatic stress, for example, following injury or a shocking incident, but sometimes there is no obvious trigger. The condition is a more common occurrence than you might expect, though it is rarely spoken of. Citizens of Osiris are survivors, are we not?”
His tone as he uttered that final sentence was gently ironic. Adelaide looked at the single picture on his wall, a swaying kelp field on the edge of the Atum Shelf.
“Is that not a positive trait, Doctor?”
“For some, doubtless. There are others who find it a source of pressure. In any case, whatever happened to Axel seemed to be an extreme form of this kind of internalization, and that, I feel, was a loss. To society as well as to the family.”
She nodded. In spite of the formality of his tone, she believed Radir was genuine. She folded her hands tightly.
“I know he’s alive. We have a connection, you see. Do you understand that, Doctor? Do you think it’s possible?”
She hated the plea in her voice, but she could not hide it. Radir showed no signs of sympathy. She was grateful for that.
“I believe that there are things which will never be mapped by science,” he said. “There are many that were once mapped and are now lost. But I also think, Miss Rechnov, that our society can be harsh, perhaps more condemning, of certain acts, than might be fair.”
Adelaide’s face went hot and her body chill.
“If you mean to imply, Doctor, that my brother might have committed-” She forced herself to speak the taboo. “ Suicide- you are very much mistaken. Axel would never humiliate himself in that way. And he would never leave me.”
She sensed that there was a weight of things behind Radir’s blue eyes. Things that he might or could have said, if pushed. Those unspoken words chased her as she scraped her chair back, got up, stuck out a formal hand and pressed her wrist to his too hard for politeness. They followed as she walked out of the office. They followed her into the lift where she punched in level twenty-four, stood rigid for the fourteen floors up to the Obelisk shuttle line, and stalked onto the platform.
Why not? said the voice. You left him.
/ / /
She felt muddled and angry all the way to the Southern Quarter. In transit it seemed that the shuttle pod stood still and the city itself was rushing towards her, pyramids, steel and bufferglass all flying upon the ocean surface, but the speed was not enough to abate her turmoil. She took out her anger by sending Lao an o’voy.
Any news? Am I not paying you enough?
She did not expect a reply but to her surprise, her scarab flashed almost instantaneously.
Paying me to be discreet. Therefore will contact only when news. I’ll be in touch.
She replied:
Been to see Dr Radir. Check his client list. He might have seen a westerner.
There was no return message. Moving her bag to accommodate another passenger, Adelaide struggled to assemble her thoughts. This next negotiation required careful handling. She had to put Axel aside, for now.
“Excuse me?” It was the woman who had sat next to her. “Can I have your signature?”
Adopting a gracious smile, Adelaide signed her name in green ink.
“I loved that garden you designed for the medical school,” said the woman. Adelaide was tempted to tell her that the garden had come from a series of doodles on restaurant napkins whilst she was waiting for Jannike, nothing more, but if the woman wanted to think of Adelaide as a landscape designer, so be it. Adelaide liked plants. She liked the feel of earth crumbling in her fingers; she liked its dank alien smell. Plants behaved as you expected them to.
The Daily Flotsam offices were undersea and windowless and smelled of perspiration overlaid with heavy perfume. At sixteen o’clock, the place was a tip. Dirty Neptunes balanced on desks overflowing with Surfboards, wrappers, BrightEye pills and mouldering tea glasses. A screen on one wall showed the latest feeds from rival press groups. Nobody recognized Adelaide when she first walked in, then the whole office reacted towards her; a sea of sunk conversations and swivelling heads.
“I’m looking for Magda,” she said.
One of them moved. Over the years their faces had changed, but the avaricious hunger had not. Adelaide no longer cared what they wrote about her. She only cared about what they had done to her twin. Odd lines-the things she hadn’t been able to avoid, still stuck. Is Axel Rechnov sick in the head? That was one of Magda’s. Looking about, she was able to match each headline to its creator.
Silence endured until the door to the inner office opened and Magda Linn looked out. When she saw Adelaide a smile spread across her face, slowly, like clotting butter.
