Таня Д Дэвис - Полёт фантазии, фантазии в полёте

Two elderly female candidates were thrown away with equal ease, because they looked like old tarts: their self-satisfied faces gave no hope that they would be interested in anything but buying souvenirs and taking pictures. The two remaining faces made Julia hesitate for a while. One belonged to a very beautiful woman of about forty and the other to a charming young girl with radiant smile. After a while she decided in favour of the smiling girl on the grounds that very beautiful middle-aged woman are likely to be involved in risky love affairs which could distract her from enjoying the sights.

She decided: she would see the long-dreamed of China through the eyes of Sarah Belch — age twenty-one, a student at the Royal Academy of Arts, single, living with her father in Sandale Road; could be seen on Wednesdays and Fridays from about 11 to 12 at the Royal Cafe in Bond Street; leaving for China on the 23rd of October.

«Excellent», — thought Julia. — «I will be able to see China through the eyes of a young artist».

The next morning Julia was walking in the direction of the Royal Cafe. «Sarah is leaving in three days, so today I’ll just have a look at her and see if she is really what I need», — thought Julia passing Downing Street. She cast a glance at the world-famous Number 10, and at that very moment the door of the British Prime-minister’s official residence opened and Julia caught a glimpse of the prime-minister, making his way to the black limousine, waiting for him in front of the house.

Julia had no time it think it over, but her reaction was immediate: she clicked her fingers. She would have never forgiven herself if she had lost such a chance — to see the life of the political leader from the inside. Is power really as intoxicating as people say?.. It took her only two days to find answers to all her questions about power and glory, wealth and politics. She had a really fascinating time with the Prime-Minister, but even in her thoughts Julia preferred to remain discreet on the subject. The only thing she was quite positive about was that power is one of the most intoxicating things in the world and those who have once tasted it will never stop seeking for it again.

Now there was only one red spot left on Julia’s traveller’s card, and that was definitely for Sarah Belch and China.

«I still have time», — thought Julia sitting in the Royal Cafe and waiting for Sarah, — «the girl is leaving for China tomorrow evening». When Julia saw a slender, elegant girl with rich chestnut hair and light brown shining eyes, she understood how much the photograph had failed to express all the charm and beauty of the original. Sarah Belch wasn’t just pretty, she was exquisitely beautiful.

«An artistic work of nature, or a natural work of art», — reflected Julia, studying her potential soul-bearer. Yet there was something about the girl which made Julia worry: Sarah looked as if she had just stopped crying and was making great efforts not to burst into tears again. Surely she was waiting for someone, for she couldn’t take her eyes off the door.

«What beast could make this beautiful girl cry, I wonder». — Julia kept looking at the door too. She recognized the cause of Sarah’s tears immediately by the girl’s reaction: the poor thing become tense and sat paralysed as if all the energy had suddenly left her body.

«A perfect sample of male», — reflected Julia as her eyes studied the man who resolutely made his way to Sarah. Rather tall, in his early forties, dark hair slightly touched by grey, blue eyes and sensitively curved mouth, he was attractive and repulsive at the same time. Attractive because he was undoubtedly handsome, repulsive because there was something evil about him.

By the manner in which he started to talk to Sarah, Julia guessed that he was awfully angry. The poor creature looked so frightened — as if he was going to kill her.

«What are they talking about?» — wondered Julia and without a second thought clicked her fingers.

The next moment infinite terror and loneliness penetrated her soul. Julia couldn’t find in her own emotional experience equivalent of such a dark and hopeless deadlock.

— «Please, Steve, don’t tell my father. It would kill him», — begged Sarah, — «I’ll do anything you want, only don’t tell my father».

— «Oh, yes. He’ll be pleased to learn that his only beloved daughter is taking drugs and sleeping with anyone just to get her daily fix», — the man gave a sinister laugh.

— «But you know that I’ve given it up, and I’ll never do it again!»

«My God, this exquisitely beautiful young creature is a drug-victim!» — Julia was shocked. «I must save her. But how? Impossible to try to influence her from the inside, it’ll only hurt her and may even kill. And what if I use the right of extra-switching?» — Julia marvelled at the viability of her decision and clicked the fingers once again.

The first moment she felt giddy — two switchings at once! — but quickly recovered and started to examine her new soul-bearer. Steve’s soul was a strange land; everything was alien to her: alien thoughts, alien emotions, alien feelings. She had a curious sensation that she had secretly entered the enemy’s territory. And it was the enemy’s territory, for Steve had no soul in her view: the images were dark and blurred, the thoughts — disorderly and disconnected low and primitive desires. Julia immediately identified him as the Poor Coco type, wonderfully depicted by her favourite writer, John Fowles.

Julia had always been interested in this particular type of human being, for it demonstrated a remarkable ability to survive and prosper under any conditions. There was nothing whatsoever that could prevent them from getting a regular share of low pleasures — no human values, no moral laws, no inner restrictions. Once Julia had had a dispute on this subject with Jim: she had tried to understand how a person, who committed a crime, even a minor one, sort of indecency, could go on living in peace with his conscience and enjoying life without the slightest remorse. Jim had explained to her this phenomenon on a perfectly scientific basis — in terms of social biology or bio-psychology or something of the kind — she didn’t remember. The thing she did remember well was that animal-oriented type people owing to their better adaptability were gradually ousting the intellect-oriented type.

— «O’K», — said Steve, — «I’ll give you a chance. If you take some things for my friend in China, I won’t say anything to your dearest papa».

«Thank you, Steve», — Sarah stopped crying and Julia noticed a blink of hope in her eyes.

— «What must I take?»

— «A brief-case, just a small brief-case with presents. I’ll call you tomorrow», — said Steve and left.

Julia felt that he was plotting something and right she was.

«A fool», — thought Steve, — «they’re all the same, these pretty dolls: want to get pleasures for nothing».

Steve was driving his new silver-green Mercedes so fast that Julia was afraid they would crash into something. Luckily they didn’t, and after half an hour of crazy driving, which Steve had positively enjoyed, he parked his car in front of an old red-brick house somewhere near Westhill Park. It was getting dark and the only thing Julia noticed while Steve waiting for someone to open the door was dirty windows and shabby walls.

A pale punk-looking boy of about twenty let them in and Julia found herself in a large untidy room, the decoration of which betrayed an absolute absence of taste on the part of its inhabitants. Everything was tasteless: green plastic furniture, red carpet, cheap abstract paintings on the blotchy wall-paper, a big Victorian bed — an easily recognisable fake, all presented a strange mixture of styles, which was unpleasant and even shocking. And the smell: «What an awful smell», — reflected Julia, — «as if the room hadn’t been aired for ages».