Lanark_ a life in 4 books - Alasdair Gray [222]
The secretary sat down facing Lanark and looked into his eyes. She had a smooth, vacant, fashionably pretty face and her hair was so golden and perfectly brushed that it looked like a nylon wig. For a split second her mouth widened in a smile, and Lanark was disconcerted by a click inside her head. Gilchrist said, “Show her your profile.” Lanark stared at him and heard another click. Miss Maheen slid two fingers inside a pocket of her crisp white blouse above her left breast and drew out a plastic strip. She handed it to Lanark. There were two clear little pictures of him at one end, a disconcerted full face and a perplexed profile. The rest was covered by fine blue parallel lines with LANARK printed on top and a long number with about twelve digits.
“She’s a reliable piece,” said Gilchrist, patting Miss Maheen’s bottom as she returned to her table. “She issues credit cards, makes coffee, types, looks pretty and her hobby is oriental martial arts. She’s a Quantum-Cortexin product.”
Lanark said bitterly, “Can’t Quantum-Cortexin make something to work as a grade D inquiry clerk?”
“Oh, yes, they can. They did. We tried it out at a stability sub-centre and it provoked a riot. The clients found its responses too mechanical. Most people have a quite irrational faith in human beings.”
“Roll on, Provan,” said Pettigrew.
“Amen, Pettigrew. Roll on, Provan,” said Gilchrist.
“What do you mean?” said Lanark.
“Roll on is a colloquialism whereby an anticipated event is conjured to occur more quickly. We’re looking forward to our transfer to Provan. You know about that, of course?”
“I was told I could go there because I’d a council passport.”
“Yes indeed. We’ll manage things much better from Provan. I’m afraid this big expensive building has been a great big expensive mistake. Even the air conditioning doesn’t work very well. But let’s go to the twentieth floor.”
They went through the desks of the outer office to a large and quiet lift. It brought them to a long narrow office containing about thirty desks. Half were occupied by people typing or phoning; many were empty, and the rest surrounded by talkative groups. Gilchrist led Lanark to one of these and said, “Here is our new inquiry clerk.”
“Thank God!” said a man who was carefully folding a paper form into a dart. “I’ve just faced six of the animals, six in a row. I’m not going out there again for a long, long time.” He launched the dart which drifted sweetly down the length of the office. There was scattered applause.
“Good luck!” said Gilchrist, shaking Lanark’s hand. “I promise you’ll be promoted out of here as soon as we find a replacement for you. Pettigrew and I drink in the Vascular Cavity. It’s a vulgar pub but handy for the office and one always gets a good eyeful.” (He winked.) “So if you call there later we’ll have a jar together.”
He went out quickly. The dart thrower led Lanark to the last of a long row of doors in one wall. He softly opened it a little way, peeked through the crack and whispered, “He seems quiet. I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. You know what to do?”
“Yes.”
Lanark stepped through the door into a cubicle behind a counter with an inquiries sign on it.
A thin, youngish man sat facing him. He had short ruffled hair, a clean suit of cheap cloth, his eyes were closed and he seemed barely able to avoid falling sideways. Lanark took the knob of the door he had just come through, slammed it hard and sat down. The man opened his eyes and said, “No no no no … no no, you’ve got me wrong.”
As his eyes focused on Lanark’s face his own face began to change. Vitality flooded into it. He smiled and whispered, “Lanark!”
“Yes,” said Lanark, wondering.
The man almost laughed with relief. “Thank Christ it’s you!” He leaned over the counter and shook Lanark’s hand, saying, “Don’t you know me? Of course not, I was a kid at the time. I’m Jimmy Macfee. Granny Fleck’s wee Macfee. You remember the old Ashfield Street days when me and my sisters played at sailing ships on your bed? My, but you’ve put on the beef. You were thin then. You had pockets