Flowers of Darkness by Tatiana Rosnay (free ebook reader for iphone TXT) 📗

“I’m not sure where this messaging service is shown, Mrs. Dalloway.”

“You can read your messages on the communication panel situated in the entrance. However, I can read them to you, as well.”

“Fine. Please do that when they arrive.”

“I’ve taken note of that, Clarissa.”

Clarissa dived back into the contract. It was clearly stipulated that each flat was furnished with a set of cameras “to meet security requirements.” She had signed that document. Counterpedaling would undoubtedly prove to be problematic. While she was giving it a thought, Mrs. Dalloway spoke up.

“Clarissa, you’ve received an answer from your fourth-floor neighbor, Adelka Miki. Should I read it to you?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Here’s the message. ‘Hello, Clarissa! I was very pleased to meet you, as well. I’ve just received Topography of Intimacy, which I will now start. You see I’ve wasted no time! What about a drink, end of day, whenever? See you soon. A.’ Do you wish to answer?”

“Just say ‘Thanks,’ and ‘See you soon.’”

“It’s done.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Dalloway.”

“You’re welcome, Clarissa.”

“By the way, please remind me to answer that letter from the bank. For my meeting.”

“But you already did answer the bank, Clarissa. Your meeting is next week.”

“Really?”

“Do you wish to see a copy of the message you sent? And check your schedule?”

Clarissa had no memory of answering the bank’s letter, nor of adding the event to her schedule.

All of a sudden, an insane craving grabbed at her: the urge to abuse Mrs. Dalloway, shooting her mouth off about everything that was on her chest, all that she could no longer put up with. She yearned to scream at the top of her voice, to stamp her feet, to spill her guts. Mrs. Dalloway didn’t exist. She wasn’t a human being. How would she react? Whatever could Mrs. Dalloway say in order to calm her down, to reason with her? Perhaps she’d stay quiet, after a while. Perhaps she hadn’t been encoded to face a string of insults. Clarissa should give it a go, just to see. While she hesitated, the doorbell rang. Mrs. Dalloway announced, “Clarissa, it’s Ben. May he enter?”

“Sure, Mrs. Dalloway.”

The door opened, revealing the tall, gangly figure wearing white overalls. Ben asked her if an alarm had gone off in her place. She said she’d heard nothing.

“Okay if I check something out?”

“Go ahead.”

She followed him into the bedroom. He went straight to the camera covered by the tape and stood in front of it. Clarissa felt as if she’d been caught red-handed. Should she say her granddaughter had done it? Not a clever idea, considering she had been filmed doing the deed herself. Ben was typing something into his device. He remained silent; so did Clarissa. After a while, he extended a never-ending arm and picked the tape off. He turned toward her.

“You’re not supposed to stick anything on these.” He sighed. “Otherwise, the alarms go off.”

She decided to speak up freely. She admitted to him she could no longer bear being monitored, especially in her bedroom. She hadn’t taken all this in when she’d signed the contract, and never guessed it would hassle her this way. Ben listened, nodding his head. He seemed in another world. He finally said, “You’ll get used to it. It’s always like that, in the beginning.”

“But who is watching? You?”

“Nope. I just fix stuff that breaks down.”

“So, who is?”

“It’s for security. No worries.”

He asked her if the network was working properly. She said yes. He explained that each flat had its own. Hers was CLARISSA8 and the password was the one they’d chosen together. If ever she needed to change it, she’d have to do it with him.

As he walked toward the entrance, she held him back with a question.

“About my virtual assistant, please?”

“Go ahead,” said Ben, his gaze locked on his screen.

She would have liked him to look at her, to pay attention. Arms crossed, she decided to wait until he raised his eyes, surprised by her silence.

“That’s better,” she said with a sarcastic smile. “I’d like to talk to you about Mrs. Dalloway.”

“I’m listening,” he said edgily.

“During the setup process, I was told she would react only to my voice.”

“That’s the case.”

“This morning, Mrs. Dalloway spoke to my granddaughter directly. Is that usual procedure, in your opinion?”

“If your granddaughter, or any other person speaks to your assistant, it won’t obey that individual. But the assistant may initiate a conversation with someone who happens to be in your home.”

“I would rather that not be the case. Mrs. Dalloway doesn’t need to intervene with anyone apart from me.”

Ben shrugged.

“That can’t be modified. All virtual assistants follow C.A.S.A. protocol. Dr. Dewinter can explain that better than me. I have to go, Mrs. Katsef. Anything else?”

Ben went back to his device. She felt like shaking him.

“No. Thanks.”

She watched him go with his nonchalant tread. The door closed behind him. She longed to shout “You little asshole!” but the black globes on the ceiling held her back. Could she reasonably hold out in this strange flat where she felt eyes on her at all times? She locked herself up in the small toilet room to calm herself down. Nobody could see her there.

Later on, to get away from the monitoring, she tried shifting the furniture differently in her office. She shoved the desk behind the sofa, so that she could not be seen when she sat to work. While she jostled the table, she hurt her hip. She caught sight of herself in the entrance mirror: wheezing and red in the face. A fit of giggles took over. Seriously, she looked like a lunatic! A madwoman!

Installed at her desk, she felt safe for the first time, a marvelous sensation that made her spirits soar. “They” couldn’t see her here, hidden by the back of the sofa. Hands flat out on the table, she breathed in and out calmly, like Elise had taught her all those years ago. This was where she was going to write. This was where she was going to create. This past month had been