‘You see it?’ the Mother asked, not taking her own gaze from the road.

‘It’s far away,’ I said. ‘But I can see a kind of village. Perhaps the sort where cars or other such items are made.’

‘Not a bad guess. Actually that’s a chemical plant, and a pretty cutting-edge one. Kimball Refrigeration. Though they haven’t had anything to do with a refrigerator for decades. It was the reason why we first came out here. Josie’s father was employed there.’

Although the metal boxes village remained distant, I could now make out tubes connecting one building to the next, and other tubes pointing up at the sky. Something about it reminded me of the awful Cootings Machine, and a concern came into my mind about Pollution. But just then the Mother said:

‘It’s a good place. Clean energy in, clean energy out. Josie’s father was once a rising star there.’

Then the metal boxes village was no longer visible, and I straightened in my seat again.

‘We get along fine now,’ the Mother said. ‘You could almost say we’re friends. That’s a good thing for Josie, of course.’

‘I wonder, does the Father still work at the refrigeration village?’

‘What? Oh no. He was…substituted. Like all the rest of them. He was a brilliant talent. Still is, of course. We get along better now. That’s the important thing for Josie.’

We traveled after that for some time without talking, the road now climbing steeply. Then the Mother slowed the car and we turned down a narrow road. When I next looked between the front seats, the new road appeared only slightly wider than the car itself. Before us, marked into the road’s surface, were muddy parallel lines made by earlier wheels, and there were trees pressing in on us from both sides, like buildings in a city street. The Mother made the car continue down this narrow road, and though she drove more slowly, I wondered what would happen if another car came the other way. Then we turned another corner and came to a stop.

‘This is it, Klara. From here we’re on foot. Can you manage it?’

When we got out, I felt the chilly wind and heard the birds’ noises. There were more wild trees around us as we climbed a path with rocks and clusters of mud. I had to take precautions, but I kept up behind the Mother, and after a time we went through a gap between two wooden posts onto another path. This one kept rising, and the Mother had frequently to stop to allow me to catch up. It occurred to me then she might have been correct after all in believing this trip too difficult for Josie.

Just at this point, I happened to look to my left, over the fence running beside us, and saw the bull in the field, watching us carefully. I had seen photos of bulls in magazines, but of course never in reality, and even though this one was standing quite far from us, and I knew it couldn’t cross the fence, I was so alarmed by its appearance I gave an exclamation and came to a halt. I’d never before seen anything that gave, all at once, so many signals of anger and the wish to destroy. Its face, its horns, its cold eyes watching me all brought fear into my mind, but I felt something more, something stranger and deeper. At that moment it felt to me some great error had been made that the creature should be allowed to stand in the Sun’s pattern at all, that this bull belonged somewhere deep in the ground far within the mud and darkness, and its presence on the grass could only have awful consequences.

‘It’s okay,’ the Mother said. ‘He can’t touch us. Now come on. I need a coffee.’

I made myself look away from the bull and followed the Mother. Then quite soon we were no longer climbing and around us appeared the rough wooden tables I’d seen in Josie’s photograph. I counted fourteen of them placed around the field, each one with benches attached on either side made from wooden planks. There were adults, children, AFs, dogs sitting at the tables, or running, walking and standing around them. Just beyond the tables was the waterfall. It was larger and fiercer than the one I’d seen in the magazine, filling eight boxes just by itself. I looked for the Sun, but couldn’t see him in the gray sky.

‘We’ll sit here,’ the Mother said. ‘Go on, sit down. Wait for me. I need coffee.’

I watched her walk to a hut made of the same rough wood some twenty paces away. It had an open counter at the front so that it could function as a store, and passers-by were now standing in line there.

I was glad of the chance to sit down and orient myself, and as I waited at the rough table for the Mother to return, I found the surroundings settling into order. The waterfall no longer took up so many boxes, and I watched children and their AFs passing easily from one box to another with barely any interruption.

Although none of them looked my way with any interest, and each seemed very focused on their child, I felt pleased to be in the presence once more of other AFs, and for a moment watched them with happiness, following one then another with my gaze. Then the Mother returned and sat down in front of me, and I turned to face her fully, the waterfall moving fiercely behind her. Her coffee was in a paper cup and she raised it to her mouth. I remembered what Josie had said about sitting close to the waterfall, how your back could get wet without your noticing, and I wondered about mentioning this to the Mother. But something in her manner told me she didn’t wish me to speak just yet.

She was gazing straight at my face, the way she’d done from the sidewalk when Rosa and I had been in the window. She drank coffee, all the time looking at me, till I found the Mother’s face filled six boxes by itself, her narrowed eyes recurring in three of them, each time at a different angle. She said finally:

‘So how do you like it here?’

‘It’s wonderful.’

‘So now you’ve seen a real waterfall.’

‘I’m grateful you brought me here.’

‘That’s odd. I was just thinking you didn’t look so happy. I don’t see your usual smile.’

‘I apologize. I didn’t mean to seem ungrateful. I’m very pleased to see the waterfall. But perhaps also regretful Josie couldn’t be with us.’

‘I am too. I feel bad about it.’ Then she said: ‘But I don’t feel quite so bad because you’re here.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Maybe Melania was right. Maybe Josie would have been fine.’

I said nothing. The Mother sipped her coffee and continued to look at me.

‘What did Josie tell you about this place?’

‘She said it was beautiful and she’d always enjoyed very much her trips here with you.’

‘That’s what she said? And did she tell you how we always came here with Sal? How much Sal loved it here?’

‘Josie did mention her sister.’ Then I added: ‘I saw Josie’s sister in the photograph.’