This woman. This appointee. She claimed she was a mother. None of the scant records Mika had of her mentioned this fact. But, these were records from a variety of refugee camps, with the information recorded at the hands of bored and underpaid clerks. She insisted that she had a child though. This child not only existed, but she was sure it had arrived in the city. Mika had decided to negotiate her search for this said individual.
It hadn’t gone well. Mika felt his presence everywhere. Every market he cruised through, every impromptu camp. The child was a blankness that was calling to him. Mika used it to give a heroic grandeur to his days. She had yet to produce a picture or even a vague description. Mika assured her each time that he was on the case. This seemed to calm her.
She was sitting in the terrible chair outside Mika’s office, staring straight ahead with the nearly comatose form of calm that she exhibited. She had lost weight in the camps in way that made her look deflated. Mika nodded at her as he used his keys to open his door and then beckoned her in.
Yes the room is adequate. I find getting food hard as I explained. The market lines are long and the protesters are allowed to treat us as they wish with little intervention of the security patrols. I have new bruises.
Mika had begun to drift off. He heard something about bruises. The translator program was feeding him every other word. The session had been going along typical lines. The temperature control in Mika’s office had begun to combat the frigid state which he had found it in with blistering drafts of heat. This was doing little to keep Mika awake. He closed his eyes. Then he saw through other eyes. He saw his back porch through these eyes. These eyes where those of the son. The son was alive and well. The son now was born. He was a physical presence. Snapping back awake he thought he should tell her. She was still talking. Mika kept fiddling with computer, switching between the client files is all he could get the computer to perform, its touch screen coated in grease that begun to secrete from the inner workings of the module.
Now, how about that manner we discussed.
Mika realized that a son had never actually been specifically mention by her. Just that some little bundle belonging to her had arrived and she seemed concerned and sometimes almost terrified of its presence. The image of the son as if coming to term within him had emerged within Mika alone, fully formed and in search of help.
He has been seen at the camp. For many days he has been around.
This “he” could be inferred as an ex-husband, uncle, brother, cousin, grandfather, father, pimp or coyote, or any other permutation on a male figure in her life, but she spoke of “him” with such tenderness and in diminutive way, that it seemed a son or an extremely tender ex-lover. But, she was frightened of “him”. Today the “him” seemed to resemble a pimp or some sort that was threatening the camp and making offers and demands of the young girls. The day before it been described as a lost purse. The week before that like an intrusive security drone. The end result of this anxiety was the description of an object entering her life that threatened changes. Changes she did not want. This Mika had decided was the “son”, and he would find him. He interrupted her.
I have found him. I know where he is. He is safe and in my care.
He waited as the translator echoed his words. He found her face completely unreadable. She was quiet and calm. The session ended with the discussion of a couple routine matters.
Why had he told he found her son? Why was he so sure that had? The meeting was over for about a half hour before he turned the screen featuring her info off. Mika studied every facet of her recorded personality, twice. Mika went to cancel the clients afterward and concentrate on the task. He found he hadn’t been scheduled for any despite the line in the street. Every fact, relevant or not needed to be glanced over several times. A huge resource of raw material that he hoped some moment of inspiration would draw him to the most relevant clue. He knew it would be hard work without a single “ah ha” moment, that myth had ruined many great artists and thinkers before they even began. He must be diligent and hardworking if he was going to succeed. Mika had yet to signify even a single meaningful moment in any of his client’s lives. This could change with this task. Losing a morning of meetings would be worth that. It was unusual that Malishka had forgotten to schedule him for any. He thought of those eyes he was sure were open, and gazing upon his meager possessions. The son was safe and in his care. He still couldn’t find a reference to a son in her file and with the translator program he was never sure if that was what she was referring to anyways. Mika was sure of it though. He knew he would be lonely, frightened again at some point in the future, but for this minute he was sure he had born a son. Mika had brought a son into the world.