Oval. Elvia WilkЧитать онлайн книгу.
it against the windowpane. There was a loud crack.
“It’s fine,” he said, turning the phone over to inspect it. “The protective case works after all.” He looked up at the window. “The window’s cracked, though.”
They made a toast to Federico, who Dam agreed it was time to let go of, and Laura stood, wobbly, to plug her phone into the cuboid speaker hovering near the window.
Even though the speaker was floating three feet above the floor, magnetized as advertised, its Bluetooth connection had never worked, so they had to connect content-filled devices to it with a long black USB cable, which undermined the aesthetic effect. The tether wound upward from the floor to its floating dock, feeding content into the mothership.
“Just another reason the past is prologue,” said Laura, fumbling with the cord until a sound stuttered through. “You heard this mix by Koolhaas yet?”
Anja shook her head humbly. It was clear from the way Laura had asked whether she knew the mix, not the producer, that she had missed something, a scrap of cultural matter that was inconsequential on its own but when combined with a whole lot of other things she didn’t know could become liability—could make her into a person who didn’t know things.
Anja didn’t pretend to know things she didn’t know. She was peripherally aware that she had other options besides admitting ignorance, but she rarely exercised them. She gave in automatically when her knowledge on a topic came under question, unwilling to deflect or lie. She hoped this sometimes had the effect of rendering the question irrelevant; more often she knew it made her seem naïve.
“Really? You never heard this?” Laura gave her another chance.
“Really.”
“I don’t know Koolhaas either,” said Dam. He was twirling his dreads with one hand and pouting. Anja noticed a shiny dragon tattoo snaking up the side of his neck. It hadn’t been there last week either.
“You’re the one who parties every night,” said Laura. “You should actually know about music.”
Dam opened his mouth and extended his tongue toward Laura, exposing a decimated half-chewed shrimp.
“Yeah, we see your food,” said Anja. She got up to look at Laura’s phone and check the name of the mix so she could find it again later, but Dam’s MacBook cable wrapped around her ankle like a little noose and caught its own tail on the tiny clip meant to act as a hook for easy winding, packing, and traveling: Serra’s verb list for the digital age. She skidded across the floor, hands out, knees and ankles twisting, wrist driving downward to catch her fall and on the way dislodging the speaker from its calibrated position in the air. The speaker came down with her, edging the floor with a thud before bobbing back up into place.
“Shit,” Dam said, lunging after her. “I’m so sorry, babe.”
“Damian! I always tell you not to leave your cord tangled like that,” Laura scolded him.
Anja was laughing. A bruise was curling around the knob of her left wrist. She looked at it with affection. The fall was a comic rupture and she was glad she would have this purpled comma to remind her not to take everything so fucking seriously. One slip was all it took. She should learn to float better, to accommodate the tides.
“You know what? I haven’t even told you,” she said, getting up and limping toward the sofa. The siblings looked at her, Dam squinting, all of them more drunk than she’d realized. She felt herself expand with gratitude for them, the only two people genetically tied together who she knew in Berlin, the most familial connection she had by dint of their familial connection to each other. They were a mess, but they were hers. Who knew why they’d let her into their fold in the first place, but once she was in, she was in.
“I got fired today,” she announced, flopping down on the sofa. “But then I got rehired immediately. I’m a consultant now. Ta-da.”
“Is that a good thing?” said Dam. He joined her on the sofa. “I don’t get it.”
“I wasn’t sure at first, but maybe it’s a good thing.”
He kissed her cheek and whispered, “You’re badass, you know that?” before sliding down into her lap and closing his eyes.
“What are you supposed to consult on? Like what’s your area of ‘expertise’?” asked Laura.
“That’s not clear. Howard said—”
“Howard?”
Eva was not the only one vehemently opposed to the existence of Howard. Anja had deciphered a quality of protectiveness in Laura’s hatred, and tried to appreciate the sentiment behind it, though Laura usually seemed to frame her protection as an accusation.
“Don’t ask. It was a very weird morning. Anyway, I called HR from the lab and they said they don’t know why it happened either, but it’s real.” The HR lady had sounded just as annoyed as confused, which made Anja wonder whether anyone really knew the reason for the changes. “My new job sounds like bullshit, though. Here, I’ll show you, throw me my phone.” Laura tossed Anja her phone and Anja caught it. She opened her inbox, scrolled to the message from HR, and downloaded the attachment.
“Listen to this, it’s my contract. ‘Consultant will provide unimpeded expertise in relevant field. Consultant will not hold any knowledge back at any time that could be deemed applicable.’ Period. Any knowledge that could be deemed applicable. That’s an entire clause! Applicable to what? And here, further down. ‘Consultant will stay up to date with advancements in the field of: Biological Science.’ They filled in the name of the field in a different font. This is a formula contract. It was probably generated automatically.”
“Are you supposed to be reading it out loud, though?” Laura asked.
“Good question. There’s a big confidentiality section down at the end I haven’t gotten to.”
“It seems really unsecure to send it to you as an email attachment.”
“True.”
“Is this a scam?”
“I don’t know.”
“Would they try to scam you out of a job?” Protectiveness again, couched in an accusatory tone, as if Anja should be protecting herself better. “What about that guy you work with, did he get bumped up too?”
“Michel? I don’t know.” Michel had been texting her since the morning. She hadn’t responded yet, unsure what to say. It seemed better to avoid him until she’d thought it through on her own. “Don’t worry, I forwarded the contract to my family lawyer already. She can tell me if there’s anything suspicious about the legal stuff.”
Laura nodded, mollified that Anja was making sure not to be taken advantage of. Anja was not paranoid about being taken advantage of like Laura was, but she was paranoid about being judged by Laura.
“This reminds me of an episode of Celebrity Court I just watched,” said Laura. “Want to watch it?”
“Not tonight. I should probably get home in case Louis gets back from hanging out with Prinz.”
“I’ll send you the link.”
“Do you think that’s pathetic?”
“What’s pathetic about Celebrity Court?”
“No, me worrying about Louis. Shouldn’t I just call him and see if he’s okay instead of worrying about him?”
“I don’t get it. If you’re worried about him, why wouldn’t you call him?”
“I don’t want to act weird. He’s acting so normal. He’s pretending everything is the same, and I think he wants me to pretend everything’s the same too. I don’t want to fuck up the illusion.”
“So then pretend for a while and see how it goes. Don’t rush him.”
“Am