Human Remains

presumably, if we were compatible and I liked her enough to continue with it, maybe I could actually end up having that most dramatic and unexpected of things, A Relationship. I read voraciously around the topic, every book I could find and every internet page that discussed the Meta Model versus the Milton Model, mirroring, strategies, calibration, everyday trances. I practised at work, even though it felt uncomfortable; I struck up conversations with Martha and some of the others and watched their awkwardness change from wariness to a kind of reserved acceptance. It was undeniably fascinating. It worked, and the more I put into it, the more my confidence grew.

Annabel
     
     
    When I opened my eyes again he wasn’t there. I expected to feel something but there was nothing. I wasn’t afraid.
    Time was passing because when I opened my eyes the next time it was daylight, and then it was dark again. Six pm had happened twice. I had answered the black phone and listened and spoken, although I couldn’t remember what about.
    My mouth was dry, sticky, uncomfortable. That was the only thing that bothered me. And then even that passed.
    The phone was by the bed. I plugged it in to charge, as he told me to.
    I felt as if I was waiting for something.
    When it comes I will know it
, I thought.
I will greet it, like an old friend
.

Colin
     
     
    I take my responsibilities very seriously, although I must admit to being distracted since the newspaper article I read on Friday.
    I stayed in most of Saturday, only venturing out after dark, and then only making one visit. After Friday’s trip to the house in Newmarket Street I resolved to leave her in peace until she transforms properly. It’s no fun being interrupted by the living. Instead I made my way to see Maggie. I often think she will be the very last to be found, which is ironic in a way because she was clearly the most wealthy person I’ve spent time with. You would think her friends and family would show her more respect, when she clearly has a lot to offer them. But as yet, months down the line, she is continuing her transformation uninterrupted. Her house is beautiful, and the rural setting means the scent is unlikely to disturb the neighbours as it often does in the urban areas.
    I usually pay her a visit at weekends, and sometimes during the day, because I’ve never seen a soul down this road and I don’t worry quite so much about being seen. You’d think I wouldn’t worry about being seen, wouldn’t you? But really I’m quite a private person. If you met me in the street I dare say you would not be unduly worried by my presence, and that’s as it should be. Nevertheless, I do prefer not to be noticed.
    You want to know what I do, on these visits? I thought you might.
    I spend time observing the changes that have taken place since my last visit. I make notes, but more frequently this happens at home afterwards. I take pictures with my digital camera, which I then examine further, catalogue, and store when I get home. After a while, when I have noted everything I wish to note, I spend some time just sitting with them, watching them. I am always careful never to disturb anything in the environment, never to leave anything of myself behind.
    I have to say with many of them the thrill is not as it once was. The excitement which was once highly erotic has gradually been replaced by a kind of fondness. I would say, even though I’ve never fully understood the meaning of the word, possibly even by love. After all, sometimes I spend months with them. I get to know them with the affection of a lover. I have seen their most private moments and I know their bodies more intimately than their husbands, partners, mothers. I see things they have never even seen themselves: the moment when the body reveals itself, piece by piece; when it opens like a flower to display the beauty within.
    Sometimes I talk to them, although of course they can’t hear me. It’s a way of reminding myself that they are – or were – human beings, although of course from a purely scientific point of view they are rapidly becoming an object of decay. I think I am more aroused by them when they get to that point – wherever you choose to define it – that they cease to be a person. I wonder what it is in me that finds the idea of sexual intercourse with another human being to be so challenging, and yet can imagine it readily when that point is reached.
    What about the smell? I hear you