Free The Destructives by Matthew De Abaitua Page A

how people used to be thought of as users in regard to technology and not the other way around.
    “What did the cat show you?”
    “It took me to a window, and through it I was able to see more of the mother than previously.”
    “A help routine,” said the Professor. The sweat had returned to Professor Kakkar’s temples. He unfolded and refolded his handkerchief as if showing them – Look! here is a handkerchief I can solve!
    Patricia smiled in acknowledgment of this minor achievement.
    “Rather enigmatic for a help routine,” said Theodore.
    Patricia listened, deliberate and self-contained. Under the subtle terms of the meta-meeting, the pursing of her white lips was almost ostentatious. She placed her attention upon him in the same way that she might place her hand on the head of a small dog. She can’t be trusted. No, of course she couldn’t. But isn’t that thrilling – the presence of a grown-up, a player in the market, the alluring silences of power?
    “I don’t think it’s an archive at all,” he said.
    Her lips parted as if to reply. Yes. She had her suspicions.
    “Further investigation, then,” she said. “Not speculation.”
    And with that, Patricia brought the meeting to a conclusion. Professor Kakkar departed on pleased and effusive terms. Theodore remained alone with her. Only one layer of the meeting was concluded. The meta-meeting continued in the corridor. Patricia asked him if he had everything he needed to continue his work.
    “Because if there is anything you need, you can have it,” she said.
    “I needed a razor,” he said. “And then one appeared in the bathroom. It seems that somebody is taking care of my needs.”
    “Some of your needs,” she replied.
    He worried away at that remark for the rest of the day. Was it a sexual signal, to let him know that as his client she was open to more of his services than he was currently providing? It had been a while. It wasn’t easy to get laid on the moon. Thoughts of Patricia came and went as he prowled around the house in his sensesuit. Some of your needs . It could also have been an insinuation about his past vices. In which case, she was sending out the opposite of a sexual signal: reminding him that his past made him repulsive to her, and that he should not mistake the mutual subtleties of the meta-meeting for erotic intimacy. She was using him, those were the terms of their relationship.
    He stood on the lawn. His helmet was full of the past. The gulls wheeled overheard, mocking him, and there was a white moon in the day sky. The erotic associations of the moon – fertility symbol, goddess, the feminine to the solar masculine – could only be discerned from distance. Close up, locked in the neutered environment of life support, the moon was asexual. In low gravity, his libido had drifted away from him. Sessions with Dr Easy met his need for psychological intimacy, and he had regulated his need for sex with routine masturbation. On the moon, movements had to be careful and controlled otherwise you could drift away into the void.
    He went back to the garden. The cat was on the windowsill. It noticed his gaze then flicked its tail up, beckoning with the white tip. The cat strolled around the porch and – satisfied that he was following it – went into the house. It stopped at the blanket box and, ears flat, gave into the instinct to mark its territory, scratching methodically at the wood. Then the cat paced around its food bowls in the kitchen. The bowls were new and had not been there when he first entered the house. Even though the bowls were full of food, the cat wanted more food, or perhaps fresh food. He opened a cupboard. It was full of sachets of cat food. The first cupboard he’d looked in. What did that mean? The other cupboards were empty. He dumped the old food into the bin, cleaned out the dish, squeezed in a rectangle of mashed fish in jelly, and put it down for the cat. It licked at the jelly and then began to