Ακολουθεί ένα από τα ωραιότερα διηγήματα που διάβασα το χειμώνα που μας πέρασε.
Το Orientation έδωσε τον τίτλο του στην πολυσυζητημένη πρώτη συλλογή διηγημάτων του Daniel Orozco που κυκλοφόρησε τον περασμένο χρόνο – το ίδιο είχε πρωτοδημοσιευτεί προ δεκαπενταετίας στο The Seattle Review.
Ένα ακραίο διήγημα-παραβολή, ένας καταιγιστικός μονόλογος-γροθιά στο στομάχι. Αναζητείται μεταφραστής για το ελληνόφωνο κοινό.
Those are the ofﬁces and these are the cubicles. That’s my cubicle there, and this is your cubicle. This is your phone. Never answer your phone. Let the Voicemail System answer it. This is your Voicemail System Manual. There are no personal phone calls allowed. We do, however, allow for emergencies. If you must make an emergency phone call, ask your supervisor ﬁrst. If you can’t ﬁnd your supervisor, ask Phillip Spiers, who sits over there. He’ll check with Clarissa Nicks, who sits over there. If you make an emergency phone call without asking, you may be let go.
These are your IN and OUT boxes. All the forms in your IN box must be logged in by the date shown in the upper left-hand corner, initialed by you in the upper right-hand corner, and distributed to the Processing Analyst whose name is numerically coded in the lower left-hand corner. The lower right-hand corner is left blank. Here’s your Processing Analyst Numerical Code Index. And here’s your Forms Processing Procedures Manual.
You must pace your work. What do I mean? I’m glad you asked that. We pace our work according to the eight-hour workday. If you have twelve hours of work in your IN box, for example, you must compress that work into the eight-hour day. If you have one hour of work in your IN box, you must expand that work to ﬁll the eight-hour day. That was a good question. Feel free to ask questions. Ask too many questions, however, and you may be let go.
That is our receptionist. She is a temp. We go through receptionists here. They quit with alarming frequency. Be polite and civil to the temps. Learn their names, and invite them to lunch occasionally. But don’t get close to them, as it only makes it more difﬁcult when they leave. And they always leave. You can be sure of that.
The men’s room is over there. The women’s room is over there. John LaFountaine, who sits over there, uses the women’s room occasionally. He says it is accidental. We know better, but we let it pass. John LeFountaine is harmless, his forays into the forbidden territory of the women’s room simply a benign thrill, a faint blip on the dull ﬂat line of his life.
Russell Nash, who sits in the cubicle to your left, is in love with Amanda Pierce, who sits in the cubicle to your right. They ride the same bus together after work. For Amanda
Pierce, it is just a tedious bus ride made less tedious by the idle nattering of Russell Nash. But for Russell Nash, it is the highlight of his day. It is the highlight of his life.
Russell Nash has put on forty pounds, and grows fatter with each passing month, nibbling on chips and cookies while peeking glumly over the partitions at Amanda Pierce,
and gorging himself at home on cold pizza and ice cream while watching adult videos on TV.
Amanda Pierce, in the cubicle to your right, has a six-year-old son named Jamie, who is autistic. Her cubicle is plastered from top to bottom with the boy’s crayon artwork – sheet after sheet of precisely drawn concentric circles and ellipses, in black and yellow. She rotates them every other Friday. Be sure to comment on them.Amanda Pierce, who tolerates Russell Nash, is in love with Albert Bosch, whose ofﬁce is over there. Albert Bosch, who only dimly registers Amanda Pierce’s existence, has eyes only for Ellie Tapper, who sits over there. Ellie Tapper, who hates Albert Bosch, would walk through ﬁre for Curtis Lance. But Curtis Lance hates Ellie Tapper. Isn’t the world a funny place? Not in the ha-ha sense, of course.
Anika Bloom sits in that cubicle. Last year, while reviewing quarterly reports in a meeting with Barry Hacker, Anika Bloom’s left palm began to bleed. She fell into a trance, stared into her hand, and told Barry Hacker when and how his wife would die. We laughed it off. She was, after all, a new employee. But Barry Hacker’s wife is dead. So unless you want to know exactly when and how you’ll die, never talk to Anika Bloom.
Colin Heavey sits in that cubicle over there. He was new once, just like you. We warned him about Anika Bloom. But at last year’s Christmas Potluck, he felt sorry for her when he saw that no one was talking to her. Colin Heavey bought her a drink. He hasn’t been himself since. Colin Heavey is doomed. There’s nothing he can do about it, and we are powerless to help him. Stay away from Colin Heavey. Never give any of your work to him. If he asks to do something, tell him you have to check with me. If he asks again, tell him I haven’t gotten back to you.
This is the Fire Exit. There are several on this ﬂoor, and they are marked accordingly. We have a Floor Evacuation Review every three months, and an Escape Route Quiz once a month. We have our Biannual ﬁre Drill twice a year, and our Annual Earthquake Drill once a year. These are precautions only. These things never happen. For your information, we have a comprehensive health plan. Any catastrophic illness, any unforeseen tragedy is completely covered. All dependents are completely covered.
Larry Bagdikian, who sits over there, has six daughters. If anything were to happen to any of his girls, or to all of them, if all six were to simultaneously fall victim to illness or injury – stricken with a hideous degenerative muscle disease or some rare toxic blood disorder, sprayed with semiautomatic gunﬁre while on a class ﬁeld trip, or attacked in their bunk beds by some prowling nocturnal lunatic – if any of this were to pass, Larry’s girls would all be taken care of. Larry Bagdikian would not have to pay one dime. He
would have nothing to worry about.
We also have a generous vacation and sick leave policy. We have an excellent disability insurance plan. We have a stable and proﬁtable pension fund. We get group discounts
for the symphony, and block seating at the ballpark. We get commuter ticket books for the bridge. We have Direct Deposit. We are all members of Costco.
This is our kitchenette. And this, this is our Mr. Coffee. We have a coffee pool, into wich we each pay two dollars a week for coffee, ﬁlters, sugar, and CoffeeMate. If you prefer Cremora or half-and-half to CoffeeMate, there is a special pool for three dollars a week. If you prefer Sweet’n Low to sugar, theree is a special pool for two-ﬁfty a week. We do
not do decaf. You are allowed to join the coffee pool of your choice, but you are not allowed to touch the Mr. Coffee.This is the microwave oven. You are allowed to heat food in the microwave oven. You are not, however, allowed to cook food in the microwave oven.
We get one hour for lunch. We also get one ﬁfteen-minute break in the morning, and one ﬁfteen-minute break in the afternoon. Always take your breaks. If you skip a break, it is gone forever. For your information, your break is a privelige, not a right. If you abuse the break policy, we are authorized to rescind your breaks. Lunch, however, is a right,
not a privelige. If you abuse the lunch policy, our hands will be tied, and we will be forced to look the other way. We will not enjoy that.
This is the refrigerator. You may put your lunch in it. Barry Hacker, who sits over there, steals food from this refrigerator. His petty theft is an outlet for his grief. Last New Year’s Eve, while kissing his wife, a blood vessel burst in her brain. Barry Hacker’s wife was two months pregnant at the time, and lingered in a coma for half a year before dying. It was a tragic loss for Barry Hacker. He hasn’t been himself since. Barry Hacker’s wife was a beautiful woman. She was also completely covered. Barry Hacker did not have topay one dime But his dead wife haunts him. She haunts all of us. We have seen her, reﬂected in the monitors of our computers, moving past our cubicles. We have seen the dim shadow of her face in our photocopies. She pencils herself in in the receptionist’s appointment book, with the notation: To see Barry Hacker. She has left messages in thereceptionist’s Voicemail box, messages garbled by the electronic chirrups and buzzes in the phone line, her voice echoing from an immense distance within the ambient hum. But the voice is hers. And beneath the voice, beneath the tidal whoosh of static and
hiss, the gurgling and crying of a baby can be heard. In any case, if you bring a lunch, put a little something extra in the bag for Barry Hacker. We have four Barrys in this ofﬁce. Isn’t that a coincidence?
This is Matthew Payne’s ofﬁce. He is our Unit Manager, and his door is always closed. We have never seen him, and you will never see him. But he is there. You can be sure
of that. He is all around us.
This is the Custodian’s Closet. You have no business in the Custodian’s Closet.
And this, this is our Supplies Cabinet. If you need supplies, see Curtis Lance. He will log you in on the Supplies Cabinet Authorization Log, then give you a Supplies Authorization Slip. Present your pink copy of the Supplies Authorization Slip to Ellie Tapper. She will log you in on the Supplies Cabinet Key Log, then give you the key. Because the Supplies Cabinet is located outside the Unit Manager’s ofﬁce, you must be very quiet. Gather your supplies quietly. The Supplies Cabinet is divided into four sections. Section One contains letterhead stationery, blank paper and envelopes, memo and note pads, and so on. Section Two contains pens and pencils and typewriter and printer ribbons, and the like. In Section Three we have erasers, correction ﬂuids, transparent tapes, gluesticks, et cetera. And in Section Four we have paper clips and push pins and scissors and razor blades. And here are the spare blades for the shredder. Do not touch the shredder, which is located over there. The shredder is of no concern to you.Gwendolyn Stich sits in that ofﬁce there. She is crazy about penguins, and collects penguin knickknacks: penguin posters and coffee mugs and stationery, penguin stuffed animals, penguin jewelry, penguin sweaters and T-shirts and socks. She has a pair of penguin fuzzy slippers she wears when working late at the ofﬁce. She has a tape cassette of penguin sounds which she listens to for relaxation. Her favorite colors are black and white. She has personalized license plates that read PEN GWEN. Every morning, she passes through all the cubicles to wish each of us a good morning. She brings Danish on Wednesdays for Hump Day morning break, and doughnuts on Fridays for TGIF afternoon break. She organizes the Annual Christmas Potluck, and is in charge of the Birthday List. Gwendolyn Stich’s door is always open to all of us. She will always lend an ear, and put in a good word for you; she will always give you a hand, or the shirt off her back, or a shoulder to cry on. Because her door is always open, she hides and cries in a stall in teh women’s room. And John LaFountaine – who, enthralled when a woman enters, sits quietly in his stall with his knees to his chest – John LaFountaine has heard her vomiting in there. We have come upon Gwendolyn Stich huddled in the stairwell, shivering in the updraft, sipping a Diet Mr. Pibb and hugging her knees. She does not let any of this interfere with her work. If it interfered with her work, she might have to be let
Kevin Howard sits in that cubicle over there. He is a serial killer, the one they call the Carpet Cutter, responsible for the mutilations across town. We’re not supposed to know that, so do not let on. Don’t worry. His compulsion inﬂicts itself on strangers only, and the routine established is elaborate and unwavering. The victim must be a white male, a
young adult no older than thirty, heavyset, with dark hair and eyes, and the like. The victim must be chosen at random before sunset, from a public place; the victim is followed home, and must put up a struggle; et cetera. The carnage inﬂicted is precise: the angle and direction of the incisions; the layering of skin and muscle tissue; the rearrangement of visceral organs; and so on. Kevin Howard does not let any of this interfere with his work. He is, in fact, our fastest typist. He types as if he were on ﬁre. He has a secret crush on Gwendoly Stich, and leaves a red-foil-wrapped Hershey’s Kiss on her desk every afternoon. But he hates Anika Bloom, and keeps well away from her. In his presence, she has uncontrollable ﬁts of shaking and trembling. Her left palm does not stop bleeding.In any case, when Kevin Howard gets caught, act surprised. Say that he seemed like a nice person, a bit of a loner, perhaps, but always quiet and polite.
This is the photocopier room. And this, this is our view. It faces southwest. West is down there, toward the water. North is back there. Because we are on the seventeenth ﬂoor, we are afforded a magniﬁcent view. Isn’t it beautiful? It overlooks the park, where the tops of those trees are. You can see a segment of the bay between those two buildings over there. You can see the sun set in the gap between those two buildings over there. You can see this building reﬂected in the glass panels of that building across the way. There. See? That’s you, waving. And look there. There’s Anika Bloom in the kitchenette, waving back.Enjoy this view while photocopying. If you have problems with the photocopier, see Russell Nash. If you have any questions, ask your supervisor. If you can’t ﬁnd your supervisor, ask Phillip Spiers. He sits over there. He’ll check with Clarissa Nicks. She sits over there. If you can’t ﬁnd them, feel free to ask me. That’s my cubicle. I sit in there.
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