a man, a park and a woman sitting on a bench talking about romance and determinism, and then goodbye in the park

Perhaps its a month or two later, they have settled down in this new universe, he still has the same name and identity, she has kept the name she adopted on arrival and the identity is the same. Language is always ideological, the word is the smallest ideological unit, whether it is spoken like “the” or written like “this”. Sometimes what happens is this They are sitting on the bench, on an adjacent bench another woman is sitting feeding her infant some mashed banana. She is looking over the head of the baby at the japanese woman and the english man and listens to as much of the conversation as she can hear. This has worked well. I’m interviewing her this afternoon. Gesturing at the woman-who-will-be-given-a new-identity in the afternoon. After which she will never use her original name again. She listens and hears him ask >> How much poorer are we than last time? … Well, I’m not sure as it’s difficult to know without asking questions that would attract some very unwanted attention. But I think we are a couple of years behind where we were before. And then tokyo will take at least 50% of whatever the basic capital setup is. Typical you ask me now, she adds after a momentary pause. Well its a nice day and things are slightly out of synch, I think you are more pregnant than last time we say on this bench, and we are still unnecessarily rich. She smiles, (a long list of sentences, gestures, pleasures and thoughts, edited out) Yes. He stretches his legs and arms. This body needs more exercise. He stops speaking and then she says. Even now I regret making you into an exile. You could have stopped being a police if it wasn’t for me, for us. He smiles at her and says, I was always going to be an exile, it’s either fate or a natural part of my being. Becoming exile… she says. That’s true, but our lives are not phenomenological nightmares, perhaps we can do better this time than last. We should go for a walk up the hill later. (500 words edited out)

Did you torture animals when you were young? He asks her. No, why do you ask ? We are going to catch a serial killer next week because he tortures animals. I just wondered if you did that before? Kill animals, torture animals? No I don’t think so…. It’s a truism of police procedure that serial killers often, usually torture and kill animals. And so I wondered if your parents ever asked you to. I really don’t remember, but as far as I can remember no I never did. Actually I think at school I failed biology because I refused to dissect animals. Nor did I bully people. She adds thoughtfully. Not a serial killer then, he smiles at her. ((the woman-who-will-be-given-a new-identity in the afternoon sees the warmth in his gaze and wishes someone would look at her like that…)) I don’t think we have ever talked about this before. We haven’t, perhaps I was more scared of the answer last time, before… I see, i think. Are there exceptions? I’ll ask, the profile department, but i don’t think so. It’s lovely here in the sunshine. I am glad you didn’t torture animals, didn’t think you did. He says amused at how happy this makes him. People only people. She said with a gentle smile. She thinks his voice sounds like warm honey tea, the sort of thing you drink to recover from a hangover. She smiles opens her eyes looking up the hill enjoying his warm hand. He ignores her teasing him. She gestures up the hill. I think some trees need planting though. Along the pathway up there I think. Silver birch, rowan and some yew. Limes, sweet chestnuts and walnuts and oaks, Are you going to keep this mansion, this time? Yes, it’s a great safe house. And i still like it… extending the woods will create a good carbon sink… We could extend the public path through the top of the estate, and put a cafe van in that corner… Cover the roof with solar panels. She watches a red kite riding the thermals off the hill upwards. I remember that case, wasn’t their a woman in the basement, didn’t she die last time? Yes, thought I’d try and save her. Part of your attempt to be less an agent of the RSA? and continues without waiting for a response. We should put in a water reclamation system in behind the house, overflow into the pond. (The woman-who-will-be-given-a new-identity-in-the afternoon, wonders what it is that makes her feel relaxed about their not minding her listening to the conversation…) That’s a really good idea, shallow water and reeds at the far end, dragonflies. Koy carp, she suggestssss… … I do wonder why they made me like this, why. Perhaps its like the traditional aristocratic system, he suggests, one becomes the inheritor, one becomes the soldier, one is married off to establish alliances, one becomes a priest or a scientist, and so on. The other two became inheritors and they made me a soldier and a killer, seems a bit extreme. Then in the war they needed a sacrifice to reestablish peace. A becoming sacrifice, They probably always needed that. Determinism. Whilst the other version of you accepted the role assigned you did not. He said smiling at her. I wonder what she is like, will we ever know? Becoming exile was a line of flight after all… How many are you seeing? Apart from her? gesturing at the woman on the adjacent bench listening to them. Not sure, three or four, perhaps upto six, depends how I feel, and the woman listening to us up there. Pointing above them… I (o) think your right I was less pregnant the last time we did this. Is there anyone here who needs special care and attention? We were too utilitarian before, accepting that punishment was right when it prevents offences and produces the greatest amount of happiness. But really that’s where it went wrong sometimes, because punishment is is only right when its fair and has fair consequences. She smiles at him. Fair, we’ve brought the new identities for those who need them. He pauses for a moment before continuing, That depends on the moral principle of equality, which is to say we should take effective steps to help those we want to. The societies don’t agree with us, they insist that we should be fascists. If we were not trapped in this, things could have been different. The physicist sitting in the window wondered what they were speaking about. (another 800 words deleted)

She watches the jackdaws in the copse of beech trees. It’s funny how the universe is so deterministic that we have ended up sitting together on this bench outside the hotel riga again. I thought about refusing the determinism and running away that bag of cash, but then there is her, looking at Ley carrying her child, who smiles at them, and the woman in the cellar. And the others inside. What can a man do when the universe is determined that he… He stops speaking abruptly. She leans against him and looks up at the sky. I hope we do what the universe wanted us to do. Of course, we are on its side… He says. What else could we do? All I can hope is to be a police who is even less a repressive state actor this time. Us being better parents would be enough, though we’ll never be safe. The woman who most people in the world think is called Nomiko, but who thinks of herself as Park says, her head is now on his lap and with her eyes closed she is listening to his body. It’s nice being so old, he says to her… Yes, let’s plant more trees here, along the avenue and along the paths… What about your sister and the other versions of us ? He asks. I think we’ll have to maintain the usual distance from Seo. They aren’t us, I’m not even sure we were ever like them. Either way they are so much younger and more obedient than we are that age and we’ll need to be more careful…. I wonder if the council is simply softer in this universe than the one we came from? I thought there might be more linguistic difference, perhaps more monosyllabic or polysyllabic but it seems the same.

After the interviews they are sitting outside the hotel riga again, drinking tea or coffee, once again enjoying the view up the hill. They are watching a woman running down the hill along the diagonal narrow path towards the house. She gestures hello at them as she follows the curve of the path towards the main entrance. It’s funny how the universe is so deterministic that we have ended up sitting together on this bench outside the hotel riga again and again. I thought about refusing the determinism and running away that bag of cash, but then there is her, looking at Ley carrying her child, going towards the open french windows, who smiles at them, and the woman in the cellar. And the others inside. What can a man do when the universe is determined that he… He stops speaking abruptly. park leans against him and looks up at the sky. I hope we do what the universe wanted us to do. Of course, we are on its side… He says. What else could we do? All I can hope is to be a police who is even less a repressive state actor this time. Us being better parents would be enough, though we’ll never be safe. If we are better parents will she be different? She asks. Unlikely, he says, I think Suki is determined to be like that, we may be thirty or so years older than last time but our situation is unchanged so i think… Her head is now on his lap and with her eyes closed she is listening to his body. It’s nice being so old, he says to her.. . Yes. What about your sister and… ? He asks. I think we’ll have to maintain distance from them until they need us. They aren’t us, I’m not even sure we were ever like that and we cannot find out. Either way they are so much younger than we are that we’ll need to be more careful.. . Your sister and mother seems the same so… Yes Mark is still dying. The universe is very deterministic… . I thought there might be more linguistic difference, perhaps more monosyllabic or polysyllabic but it seems the same. We have to be careful not to hide behind the wording of the sentences I write down. anyone clever enough to invent a philosophy would also be clever enough to hide behind it, hiding behind the determinism… We should go… He is leaning against the car at the far end of the car park, standing in the sunshine, she can see he has taken his jacket off and is wearing his green shades. Probably with his eyes closed in the sunshine waiting for her. She is walking along the gravel path, making a satisfying crunch noise as she walks. She finally has time to think about his question from before; I wonder if I ever thought torture worked as a method? The trajectory of harming insects>animals>children>people wasn’t the psychopathic line i existed on… Though I often came across people who liked inflicting pain on others, interrogators, torturers and so on, my parents never asked me to do that…