HOMEPAGE

 

DETECTIVES - Episode 3

 

THE BANK

 

Sep left Immalda's room well after midnight and slept soundly in his own room until dawn.

 

After he woke up he tried to telephone Immalda but his Padzan cell phone didn't work in Dibadi: the respective networks are not interconnected. There was an old-fashioned black telephone set on the table, but it was useless to him. When he tried to dial Immalda's number nothing happened. When he dialled zero, a seemingly monolingual Dibadian-speaking woman answered the phone, and however hard he tried he couldn't get her to understand what he said. After several minutes he gave up, shaved and took a shower.

 

Then the phone rang. It was Deisee, the diminutive cyborg interpreter.

 

"It's eight o'clock already. I'll accompany you to the bank where Goquok has his account, as you requested yesterday" she said.

 

"I haven't had my breakfast yet, and I think that Immalda hasn't either" Sep replied.

 

"Can I have my breakfast with you and Immalda? I'm presently in the hotel lobby."

 

Sep accepted. Ten minutes later the three of them were in the roomy self-service restaurant on the second floor of the hotel, standing in line with dozens of other clients waiting for their breakfasts.

 

"It seems that everyone speaks Dibadian in this hotel" Sep said "Where are the other foreign tourists?"

 

"It isn't only a hotel" Deisee replied with a smile. "There are very few foreigners here."

 

"If it isn't only a hotel, what is it, then?"

 

"It's a government-owned, cheap residence for newcomers in the city. They come with little money and they stay here until they find a job. The residents pay a daily or weekly amount for cold and hot water, electricity, telephone service, and to have their rooms cleaned everyday. They also pay to have soap, towels and toilet paper in their bathrooms. It's very cheap, as you'll notice. The residence, which we call a hotel, earns a little money from occasional change operations, the restaurant, and the shops in the lobby."

 

"Now I understand why Budai wrote in his memoirs that he paid only thirty five ducats for a week in a hotel, whereas a map of a portion of Dibadi was twelve ducats, and a short trip in a cab was ten ducats!" Sep exclaimed.

 

"I've read Budai's memoirs, too" Deisee said. "And I remember how he eventually became a tramp. The militia and the police ignore the homeless until there are too many of them and they become a public nuisance. Authorities react when the number of homeless rises above one percent of the population. It doesn't look like much, but it's a lot of people in a city as big as this one, and since they are on the streets all the time they are very visible. The militia and the police round up as many tramps and beggars as they can and send them for life to internment camps in the countryside. Budai was lucky to be rescued by a visiting Red Cross delegation. His life must have been terrible in the camp, with all those human wrecks..."

 

"Dibadi doesn't look so bad, especially in this century of scarcity" Sep said. "Public housing and staple foods are extremely cheap. Health care and primary education are free. I noticed that many people wear the same type of cheap, brown clothes. I guess that those garments are subsidized by the government. The only things that are truly expensive are those that are not considered basic: books, maps, cars, cabs... Isn't that true?"

 

"Oh yes, yes. Like health care, public housing is free in Dibadi. If you want something better, a larger flat, or a house, you must give money for it. Similarly, if you want state-of-the-art medical care, you must be able to afford it" Deisee said.

 

She ate a roll of bread, and then she spoke again:

 

"Sometimes, the poor can't stand poverty anymore, and they go berserk. They riot. When the police and the militia can't handle the situation, the cyborg army intervenes. They are the soldiers with the white uniforms and the camouflaged helmets. Hundreds or even thousands of people are arrested and sent to internment camps after hasty trials."

 

"There are affluent people in Dibadi" Sep objected. "All those cars… And some houses look really nice."

 

"Oh yes, Niemelaga is rich. We export electricity and food. We recycle the rest. We keep the bulk of the population busy assembling the machines, cars and appliances we import and giving them Dibadian brand names. That's why all the makes of cars you see on the streets of Dibadi don't exist elsewhere. The imported parts are assembled in Dibadian factories and the external appearance of the cars is modified. Even cameras and computers are assembled in Dibadian factories and given Niemelagan brand names, but the technology is foreign" Deisee said.

 

Standard, international breakfasts were available: tea, coffee, chocolate or milk with bread, butter and several types of jam. Sep and Deisee took tea but Immalda, who was still sleepy, took a large bowl of coffee. They paid with coins to the cashier at the end of the line and took their trays to a round table, where they sat.

 

Sep had other questions to ask:

 

"In his memoirs Budai wondered why in his hotel many people checked in but no one seemed to check out."

 

Deisee replied patiently:

 

"This place and others like it aren't actually hotels, as I said. When people leave, their luggage is taken to their new location by a removal company. In order not to inconvenience the clients the removal men use the backdoors, not the front door."

 

"My coffee isn't too good" Immalda said. "It tastes as if the stuff grew in a greenhouse."

 

"It certainly grew in a greenhouse" Deisee said. "We grow all we can in Niemelaga. We export food, we don't import any. People here enjoy the coffee they can get. I prefer tea. It grows in greenhouses, too, but it tastes really good with mint and a little milk."

 

"Deisee, I wonder how, being a cyborg, you can eat and drink like us? Isn't your body artificial?" As often when she was tired, Immalda was on the brink of verbal clumsiness.

 

"Most of my energy is stored in yeksooch batteries. I reload them by plugging an electric cable in my body. But I am human, too, and I can socialize with biological people by eating and drinking with them, which is an important part of our social life. Some of the energy I use comes from food."

 

"How is that possible?" Immalda asked.

 

"My stomach is, as we say in Dibadian, a quatin mawich. A sexless, hairless, legless, toothless, blind and deaf, nearly brainless animal, which is the result of surgery and genetic manipulations. The quatin mawich enables me to eat, drink, digest and excrete like a biological person. When it dies, I go to a cyborg clinic to have it removed from my body before it rots and have a new one inserted. When my quatin mawich is hungry or thirsty I feel it squirm inside me and I hear its cries of anguish. When it is full up it groans and purrs. Alcohol makes it snore. Several tubes are attached to the veins and arteries of the quatin mawich to allow its blood to flow to fuel cells that convert glucose and hydrogen to electricity, which I store in my yeksooch batteries. After the blood flows in from the arteries to the fuel cells it flows out again through the veins."

 

"Ah, yes, I see" Immalda said. "But how can you taste food?"

 

"I have electronic sensors in my nose and mouth. I also perceive my quatin mawich's reactions. If the food is poisonous or truly indigestible the quatin mawich will retch or writhe in pain."

 

"From what animal is the quatin mawich derived?" Sep asked.

 

"The rat, as far as I know, or some closely related species. Rats can eat everything human beings can eat, and they can feed on things which would poison human beings. Besides, they reproduce rapidly, which is essential to test the effects of genetic manipulations" Deisee replied.

 

Sep and Immalda could hardly believe their ears. They had never been in Niemelaga before and although they had heard of the cyborgs they had never met one. Or, rather, they had never met someone they knew was a cyborg. Short, elderly, plain-looking, friendly Deisee Kashal was certainly not their idea of a member of a half-human, half-machine ruling caste. She was only an interpreter for the militia and her social status was visibly rather low.

 

When they had finished their breakfasts Sep and Immalda went to Sep's room to fetch his briefcase while Deisee waited in the lobby.

 

"I feel like staying several days more" Sep said in the elevator.

 

"But I don't, and I'm your boss" Immalda replied sullenly. "If you don't resume your work in Padza when you're told to do so, that's dereliction of duty, and you know what it means."

 

She kissed him lightly on the lips. "Don't be a fool, darling" she said. "I love you, and I'll give your career a boost. When we're back in Padza, you'll have two women just for you: your girlfriend and me."

 

"I intend to deposit my money here, in Dibadi" Sep whispered in her ear. "Whatever I do, please don't interfere. If something goes wrong, I'll take all the responsibility. I know what I'm doing, right?"

 

In the lobby Deisee welcomed them back with a smile. "Now we can go to the bank" she said.

 

Goquok had an account in the Eibukala Street branch of the Makuszta Dalakha, the largest Niemelagan bank. They had decided to visit the bank. It was rather useless in their investigation, but it gave them an opportunity to spend another day in Dibadi.

 

Sep, Immalda and Deisee took the underground train. First the yellow line, then the mauve one and the green one. The journey took an hour, in crowded passenger cars.

 

The bank was located in the old downtown area, in a block of offices facing a large public square with a stone elephant in the middle. Electric cars, busses, vans with enigmatic writings on their sides, whirled around the square.

 

They stepped into the bank, where about fifty people were standing patiently in line. Half a dozen clerks sat behind a long counter. Deisee pulled her cell phone out of her handbag and made a call. She spoke for about five minutes, in precise but rapid Dibadian. Sep understood only the name "Elwass". Several minutes later a young woman with long brown hair, clad in a gray suit, walked towards them and whispered something to Deisee.

 

"The branch manager is awaiting us in his office" Deisee said.

 

The young woman led them through a security vestibule, up a flight of steps and into a sparsely furnished office.

 

The manager was a short, skinny man who wore the standard gray suit of Dibadian bankers. He offered tea to Sep, Immalda and Deisee. They sat down while the long-haired young woman fetched computer printouts concerning Goquok's account.

 

The conversation went on rather slowly as Deisee translated into French what the manager said and into Dibadian what Sep said.

 

Sep put the printouts in his briefcase, and, still sipping his tea, he asked the manager:

 

"Is it possible for a foreigner like me to open an account here?"

 

"Sure. Chetenche Goquok did. You have to deposit a little money first. I can help you open an account."

 

"I have money, lots of money. Two hundred and fifty thousand Padzan sequins, imagine that! But I have no Niemelagan identification, just a Padzan passport. And I have no address in Dibadi."

 

The manager looked nervous. He wasn't used to foreigners, especially foreigners who were Padzan officers and who asked weird questions. If a cyborg hadn't been present he would have suspected something fishy.

 

He tried to sound as professional as he could:

 

"We require no identification, and citizenship means nothing in this country, we're all residents. You don't need an address either. If you want information on your account, you pay a visit to a local branch of the bank. If you had an address in Niemelaga we would send you your bank reports by mail, but since you don't, you'll have that information in any branch of this bank. When you want to deposit or withdraw money, you just walk into a bank and state your full name. The clerk will check your identity and perform your bidding."

 

"I see. Is it possible to have online information on my account?"

 

"Only if you give us an e-mail address."

 

Sep wrote his e-mail address on a sheet of paper and handed it to the manager. "I'd like to open an account. This is my e-mail address."

 

The manager took the paper and looked ill at ease. "We don't use foreign alphabets here, only Deseret. We'll have to create a Dibadian e-mail address for you, with your account. If you use a French-language keyboard, you'll have to download a Deseret font on your computer. Besides, you'll have to learn the Dibadian language to read the messages."

 

"No problem."

 

The manager seemed to relax slightly. He typed something on the keyboard of his computer, and he said to Sep:

 

"Put your right hand on the fingerprint reader on my desk... here... now look straight into the camera... fine. Now let's wait until the data is sent for identification to the Ministry of Population. It will take less than a minute. Umm, there's something wrong. Your fingerprints are unknown to the Ministry of Population."

 

"It could hardly be otherwise. I'm foreign."

 

"I can create a file for you. What's your name, sir?" the manager asked with a grin. In Dibadian, it came out as "Chetenche tlėt me shub iszta" which means, literally, "Citizen your name is what." The manager was a true Dibadian: the sentence came out as a hurried growl, as if the man tried to speak while munching hot food. He spoke in an even, gruff tone which sounded assertive rather than interrogative. Dibadians have no distinct intonation for questions and statements. It is a peculiarity of their language which sometimes confuses foreigners.

 

Sep was glad to understand directly what the manager had said. "Nai me shub Sep Clavis" (My name is Sep Clavis) he replied.

 

"I can't enter a Padzalander name in the computer, chetenche. The Ministry of Population accepts names in the Dibadian language only. We can't pronounce your surname in Dibadian. It is Sep Tlawis for us."

 

"Fine with me."

 

The manager typed things on his computer for several minutes, occasionally shaking his head. Eventually, he said:

 

"There's another problem, chetenche. There's someone else called Sep Tlawis in Niemelaga. His fingerprints and his face are different from yours. The Ministry of Population wants every resident to have a unique and distinct name. Do you have a middle name?"

 

"No."

 

"You need one. People are always identified by their names in this country. We never use numbers to identify people. If your name is identical to someone else's, the Ministry of the Population wants you to add one or several middle names."

 

"OK. Let us say... uh... Sep Theodore Clavis."

 

"Sep Teodol Tlawis, in Dibadian" the manager corrected.

 

"Sep Teodol Tlawis sounds all right to me" Sep said.

 

The manager concentrated on his keyboard again. Then he said:

 

"You must make a deposit to open an account."

 

Sep opened his briefcase and put two hundred thousand sequins on the cluttered desk.

 

The manager took a few banknotes at random and looked at them. Then he telephoned. A dark-skinned, black-haired man came in, examined the banknotes, and said that they were dilet (straight, correct, genuine).

 

Immalda looked at Sep with angry eyes. Sep scribbled a note on a piece of paper and handed it to her:

 

"It's mine and you didn't even know it existed, OK?"

 

She read the note and nodded glumly. Sep took the piece of paper back from her. Immalda would have been foolish enough to leave it on the manager's desk.

 

Ten minutes later, Sep, Immalda and Deisee left the bank. Sep now had a bank account in Dibadi, and two hundred and fifty thousand ducats on it: the Padzan sequin and the Niemelagan ducat are the same currency with different names. It goes with Niemelaga being a protectorate of Padzaland. Niemelagan authorities had his Dibadian name, his fingerprints, and his picture. He didn't like it, but he had willingly taken the risk.

 

It was half past ten in the morning. A cool, sunny day in February.

 

"Now we can go home" Immalda said. "Deisee, this is the end of our mission. Sep and I, we'll go back to the hotel, check out, and take a train back to Padza."

 

"Yes" Sep said. "There are many things I'd like to see in Dibadi but I have to learn the language first."

 

"You must buy a few books and records, then" Deisee said. "Look, I know a bookshop in a street close to your hotel. We can have a look there, can't we?"

 

"One hour to go there by public transit, and we can have lunch at the hotel. Then we pack up, we check out, and we catch the train to Padza at two thirty this afternoon" Sep said.

 

In the passenger car, Sep noticed that Immalda looked sick. "Are you ill?" he asked.

 

"I need my tablets" she mumbled. "I thought I could do this mission without them, but it's hard. I must go home."

 

Several seated passengers left the car at the next stop. Sep and Deisee helped Immalda seat herself. Sep sat next to her and Deisee sat facing him.

 

Immalda rested her head on Sep's shoulder and closed her eyes. He felt both embarrassed and happy. Immalda was a demanding, authoritarian boss, who was disliked by her subordinates because she concealed her notorious incompetence behind a mask of bogus hyperactivity. Now the mask had fallen. There was just a sexually and emotionally deprived human being who couldn't work without chemical stimulation. Sep had been the one who had been actually in charge of the investigation, and he had also been the one who had decided to accept Goquok's money. Combined with the stress of having an illicit affair with a subordinate and being away from her drugs, it was too much for Immalda.

 

Deisee looked straight into Sep's eyes. "Nėsai shubkaph u tlėt, quokhag eumgo kėltės" she said.

 

Sep didn't understand. Deisee pulled a small black notebook out of her handbag and wrote the sentence on a blank page, which she showed to Sep. As he still didn't seem to understand, she wrote the translation on the same page:

 

We can use you, but the woman is useless.

 

Sep let the meaning of the statement sink into his consciousness.

 

"What do you mean, 'use'?" he whispered in the distracting background noise of the passenger car.

 

Deisee wrote a single word in her notebook for Sep to read:

 

ESPIONAGE

 

"I was a fool" Sep said.

 

Immalda opened her yes and raised her head. "What are you talking about?" she asked.

 

Deisee put her notebook hastily back in her handbag. Her reply was sharp:

 

"Sep will tell you later. Sep, we can't have a detailed conversation here, in this train car. All you have to know is that we know. Someone will contact you in the future" Deisee said.

 

Immalda startled.

 

"Don't worry, Immalda, you're not involved in this business. Please do as if this conversation never took place" Deisee told her in a very matter-of-fact voice.

 

The train stopped at Phalang station. Immalda seemed to regain her composure and the three of them walked out in the open. Deisee, who had taken the initiative, asked Immalda if she wanted to accompany them to the bookshop or rest at the hotel.

 

"I'll accompany you" Immalda said "I can't speak the language of this country and I don't want to be alone."

 

The bookshop was located in a narrow street. Sep noticed the name of the street, painted in black on a yellow plaque: TLUN ELIPLET. "The three priests" in Dibadian. Wehat, the word for street, road or avenue, is never written on street signs. But Deisee called the street Tlun eliplet wehat in conversation.

 

They stepped into the crummy old shop. Thousands of books, of all types and sizes, were displayed on shelves running from wall to wall. Customers leafed through the books and chatted among                                                               themselves.

 

"All the books are in the Dibadian language, there is no foreign section or bilingual editions, but I'll help you find Dibadian translations of books available in Padzaland" Deisee said.

 

"Do you mean that nobody in this town learns French or English, or any other foreign language? Even teenagers in schools?" Sep asked.

 

"Only cyborgs do" Deisee replied. "Dibadi isn't an ordinary city."

 

After five minutes, she came back with a local edition of Bilbo the Hobbit, a compact disk and what looked like a slim schoolbook.

 

"Just what you need" she said. "The disk is a reading of Bilbo the Hobbit by Dibadian actors. You'll become familiar with the sounds of the Dibadian language. Comparing the Dibadian translation with the same text in your native tongue will make you learn thousands of Dibadian words. The Dibadian grammar is very simple. All you need to know is that the prefix e is the definite article and the suffix da is the plural ending, all the rest is vocabulary as we say here. Nevertheless, I've also bought a little grammar book made for elementary school pupils. You'll have to use your dictionary to read it, but it will help you understand how the language works."

 

"I can't be so simple" Sep said with a smile.

 

"Well, Dibadian has retained one or two peculiarities from its Amerindian ancestors. The adjectives are verbs, for instance. We say hayash go, a big man, but ego hayash, the man is big. Think of hayash as meaning both "big" and "to be big". When you've read a few texts it will be natural to you. The syntax is very easy. You put the adjective before the noun, and word order is subject-verb-object. The alphabet is simple and phonemic and it has only twenty-eight letters. The original Deseret alphabet has thirty-eight letters or so, but the Dibadian language doesn't need them all."

 

"Budai thought that there were several hundred characters in Dibadian" Sep objected.

 

"Yes, that's what he thought when he tried to count them. He was in a state of temporary estrangement and he kept on copying the same letters again and again without recognizing them. He also mentions the frequent ö and ü sounds of the Dibadian language, whereas Dibadian only has open ö, as in the French word neuf and the Dibadian pronoun tlėt, which Budai sometimes wrongly transcribes as klütt. He also occasionally mistakes u for ü, for instance in the number duti, which means first, as in duti pheli, the first day of the week, Monday."

 

Sep bought the books and the compact disk for twenty-eight ducats.

 

As they walked back to the hotel, Deisee was still talking: "Another unusual feature of the Dibadian language is its two sets of numbers: the ordinary one, as in it kha, one house, moksut khada, two houses, and the one for dates and time, as in duti pata gėlos san, etlets lėl, the second of January, ten o'clock. Literally, it means first moon, second day, tenth hour."

 

"This is unique" Sep remarked.

 

"No, several Amerindian languages which were spoken in the same region than Chinook, the distant ancestor of Dibadian, have similar characteristics. There's also Japanese, which has two sets of numbers, a native one and a Chinese one. By the way, we use the common, universal calendar and the seven day week. Dibadi has no culture of its own, except its language, alphabet and religion."

 

"Dibadian is an exotic language" Sep said, laughing.

 

"Nobody in this country would agree. The people know that Dibadian is derived from a pidgin spoken several centuries ago for barter and elementary communication, on another continent, by Amerindian natives and white settlers who are not their ancestors. They know that the cyborgs chose the pidgin as the basis for their own secret language, and they fear and loathe the cyborgs. They resent being isolated from the rest of the continent by, among other things, the Deseret alphabet. They know that their parents and grandparents learnt the language in internment camps, and they are unhappy about that. On the other hand, Dibadian is the language they grew up with, the only language they can speak. They think in Dibadian, they love and hate in Dibadian. In the internment camps and in the city of Dibadi itself they grew their own accent, their own slang, which has become a kind of standard dialect, even for the cyborgs."

 

"Why did the cyborgs accept this?" Sep asked.

 

"They wanted to give historicity to the language, make it authentic, a part of recorded history. In Dibadian schoolbooks the history of the language is explained at length: first, Old Chinook, and its relationships with other Amerindian languages. Chinook Jargon and its regional varieties from Alaska to Northern California. Then, the enrichment of Chinook Jargon by the cyborgs, how they fine-tuned it as their own language, and the Mormon influence, with the adoption of the Deseret alphabet. Finally, modern Dibadian, the language of cyborgs, artificial intelligences and a nine million strong human community, reflecting its unique history and culture, polished by millions of conversations and translations."

 

"It looks like a great story" Sep said. "It isn't as if the language was created yesterday by some guy sitting at a desk."

 

They arrived in front of the hotel. "I must go now" Deisee said. She shook hands with Sep and Immalda. Her hand was cold, for the plastic skin of the cyborgs is always at ambient temperature, but its pressure was firm. Her face and eyes evinced to emotion, only her usual manufactured bland look. Sep remembered what he had read about cyborgs in a magazine: they do experience emotions but they are never overwhelmed by them and their self-control is perfect. When a cyborg looks emotional, it's always an act.

 

Deisee looked Sep straight in the eyes. "We'll contact you very soon. We certainly won't forget you" she said.

 

Sep leant towards Deisee, expecting to smell the foul odor of a bloated, mutilated rat coming out of her parted lips when she spoke, but he perceived only her perfume. There must be a sphincter between the cyborg's throat and the abdominal cavity where the quatin mawich sat, he thought. Besides, the food swallowed by Deisee probably fell directly into the mouth of the animal.

 

Sep was afraid of the cyborgs now, but his money was in a Dibadian bank. He had to come back in order not to lose a quarter of a million ducats. "I'll come back in a few months, when I can speak Dibadian, even just a little" he said.

 

Immalda looked like she was about to slap Deisee's face. She stepped into the hotel and Sep followed her.

 

In the lobby Immalda faced Sep and shouted at him:

 

"Do you realize what you've done? We'll go to jail because of you! That bitch has understood everything and now the cyborgs will blackmail you! Look what you've done!"

 

The lobby was a very large rectangular room with shops on one side and round tables and armchairs in the middle. There might have been fifty people in it, and Sep felt their eyes on him and Immalda.

 

"I'm the one being blackmailed, not you, and yet I'm not losing my temper, unlike you, so please calm down" he said, doing his best to speak calmly and slowly. "Besides, you're the boss. You're accountable for everything I did under your authority. And you took half the money, remember."

 

Immalda opened her mouth, as if she wanted to utter a vehement reply, but instead she burst into tears before she could say a word.

 

A massive, burly doorman came, and said something which Sep didn't understand.

 

"My wife is sick" Sep said. The doorman looked at him, then at Immalda, who was sobbing.

 

Immalda took Sep in her arms and pressed her face against his chest.

 

The doorman repressed a laugh and walked away.

 

The elevators were at one end of the lobby. Sep tried to look as dignified as he could, walking with a weeping, staggering woman by his side. First, to the reception desk, to retrieve their bedroom keys. Then, to the elevators.

 

Immalda clung to Sep, and they made love in her bedroom. Then they had just enough time to pack up and check out. As Deisee had told them, the hotel was very cheap. Ten ducats for both rooms. But was it possible to book a room from abroad? Sep suspected it wasn't. Their rooms had been booked for them by the Dibadian militia, and although the clients of the hotel were of all physical types imaginable they all spoke Dibadian like the native speakers they were. The Niemelagan government discourages tourism.

 

They rode the subway to Ninekho station, where they had arrived from Padza the day before.

 

They arrived in advance and bought sandwiches and bottles of mineral water from a cafeteria which was located in the station itself. Then they walked to the platform, where they had to show their tickets to employees in dark blue uniforms to be allowed on the train.

 

The train left the station, heading towards Padza.

 

Immalda was silent and distant. Sep understood that their affair was over. He wondered how what had happened in Dibadi would affect their hierarchical, professional relationship in Padza.

 

END OF EPISODE THREE

 

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HOMEPAGE