To get to the interview room, Jan had to pass paediatrics. Scanning the windows of the buildings up ahead he spotted a doctor who could well be Jensen. The man was rooted to the spot, as if he had been there all his life. The thought of such a life made Jan shudder. Had he just escaped one trap for another?
He crossed the corridor to the maternity ward and without thinking turned in. The interview was due to begin in three minutes, but he was stalling. He realised there was something he had to fulfil, something far deeper than gaining a semi-prestigious job and furthering his precious career. Poking his head around into the premature baby unit, he noticed the absence of nurses. He plonked his battered briefcase on one incubator and then lifted up the lid of another. It was a little boy. Quickly, he wrapped the baby up and placed him in his bag.
Jensen plus four colleagues sat motionless behind a desk. They all arose in slow motion when Jan entered. He towered over them and shook their hands profusely. The preliminary questions went well. His background impressed them, both his early work with aborigines and then his London based research. Then Jensen turned to Jan’s publication list and began tearing his research papers to bits, stating that his findings had been invalidated. Despite this being exactly the same as in other interviews, Jan now argued in a peaceful manner. Surely, that was the nature of research he told them, explaining his points thoroughly, having already rehearsed this part a dozen times. It wasn’t invalid as such, but had later become outdated.
That was always the case, the whole point about furthering knowledge. This went on for twenty minutes and grew more heated. At the end of the interview Jensen apologised for altering the day of the interview and disclosed it was due to his wife having a difficult birth, the child eventually being still born.
“I’m sorry, for all of you,” said Jan, looking at his hands, and meant it.
When Sally met him for dinner after the interrogation Jan already had transferred his flight back to London for that evening. Flo had managed to get through to him saying she had been disfiguring his three original Whistler paintings. But it wasn’t just fear of her next move that was sending him back. It was something to do with the peace of being in the sky. Lately, he seemed to be spending so much time up in the sky, moving back and forward across the sea to conferences, interviews, to anywhere that meant more time in the air, as if he was living beyond the clouds. Back on earth he knew there was little chance he’d got the job and he questioned whether he actually wanted it. Keeping his options open, he didn’t tell Sally. In any case, she had a lot of clout at the hospital, so he might still be in with a chance.
Like usual, they talked about their future together, when they would settle down and get on with their work, travel a bit, start a new life. Sally said her two teenage sons were getting used to the idea. Jan knew she was lying, but still was relieved by the comment. He just went along with it all, feeling calmer than he had done for years. Already he could impersonate Professor Jensen well and they laughed uproariously at this, embarrassing the waiters in this mannered French restaurant. Sally was taking her kids out later, so as they kissed goodbye they arranged to meet the next morning for breakfast and maybe go see a film in the afternoon, do some shopping. Everything was very normal. Sally was making sure of that.
Jan took a taxi back to his hotel and got it to wait while he packed like a maniac, then he was whisked straight to the airport for his engagement with the sky.
“Is this some kind of life-like doll?’ asked the customs officer.
“What exactly is it made from? Sure is realistic.”
The official gawped at Jan, knowing the man was some kind of doctor and wondering whether it was a teaching tool.
“Mumma, dada,” said the officer, moving the cadaver’s chin with his little finger.
Then he scrutinised it once more. Tiny empty eyes contemplated the throng of travellers. An elderly lady in a fur hat behind Jan fainted. Two Japanese tourists went to catch her but missed, her head cracking against the bag-scanning table, sending it gracelessly along the conveyor belt until it was trapped. Blood splattered Jan’s chinos. Planes roared off the silvery runway. People sat back in their seats and awaited their plastic nourishment and entertainment. Jan moved to run back within the airport. The fliers sat patiently before entering the manufactured dreams of others and becoming babies one more. A man dressed in a grey suit grabbed and deftly cuffed him all in the same movement. Jan was pushed to the floor in his new sparkling bracelets. Not before long, the in-flight entertainment commenced.
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