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[Three telephone conversations between Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood in the latter half of June, 2017. Locations and times of day vary.]
MARTIN: (only slightly conscious) Mmgh? Yeah?
ARCHIVIST: ‘D I wake you? Sorry.
MARTIN: N- nah, no, you’re—no. It’s fine.
ARCHIVIST: (crosstalk) I didn’t even—oh, for Christ’s sake, is it three o’clock? Shit. Sorry.
[Pause.]
MARTIN: Okay, fine. Maybe.
ARCHIVIST: Thought you said you silence your phone when you’re sleeping.
MARTIN: Yeah.
[Longer pause.]
MARTIN: I just, uh, might have, um… (sheepishly) whitelisted your number. For, um… emergencies.
ARCHIVIST: (revelatory) Right. I- mm. Right.
MARTIN: Shut up.
ARCHIVIST: What?
MARTIN: (hasty) Nothing. A- and, anyway, what are you doing calling at three in the morning?
ARCHIVIST: Oh. Um… w- I mean, I’m—the, uh, the normal reasons.
MARTIN: (heh) Those being?
ARCHIVIST: I… wanted to talk to you.
[Torturously long silence.]
MARTIN: Oh. Cool.
ARCHIVIST: So…
MARTIN: Sooo.
ARCHIVIST: Hotel’s not bad.
MARTIN: Huh. I- I don’t think I have much of a mental picture of Beijing.
ARCHIVIST: It’s—loud.
[Pause.]
ARCHIVIST: H- um… how—ah, how are you faring?
MARTIN: Um… yeah. You know.
ARCHIVIST: Not from this far away, I don’t.
[Awkward laughter.]
MARTIN: Oh. Yeah. Fair. Um… yeah, I mean… I- yeah. It’s… it’s okay.
ARCHIVIST: (gravely) What about you?
MARTIN: (flustered) Um- I- uh, w- um, what? Sorry?
ARCHIVIST: What about you? Are- are you okay, I mean?
[Light crackling of static in the pause.]
MARTIN: I mean… I think so. Been worse. (sigh) Been better too, I guess.
ARCHIVIST: Mm. (tense inhalation) I, um. I- (equally tense exhalation) I know things haven’t been easy lately. For- uh, for—for you, I mean.
MARTIN: (audible eye-roll) And they’ve been great for you, obviously.
ARCHIVIST: W- hrmm. I—look. I don’t think I’m very good at, um, commiserating, or, uh… whatever it is I’m… attempting.
MARTIN: (laughing) Sorry. Thanks. (pause) I, um… thanks.
ARCHIVIST: Mm. Welcome.
[ARCHIVIST inhales as though about to sign off.]
MARTIN: So, um… you eaten?
ARCHIVIST: (chuckling) W- uh, why? Are you offering?
MARTIN: Think I’ve got some stale bread, but, um… don’t think I trust my aim from this distance.
ARCHIVIST: Is—that a joke?
MARTIN: (deadpan) No.
ARCHIVIST: Right. N- er, no. Not yet. Sort of… got in the door and called.
MARTIN: (delighted) Oh! Um… oh. W- uh. Y- oh.
ARCHIVIST: I know, it’s a bit appalling. It ought to have been my first stop.
MARTIN: Nobody’s thinking straight after a ten-hour flight.
ARCHIVIST: (heh) Least of all me, come to think of it.
MARTIN: (taken aback) Don’t be stupid.
ARCHIVIST: I- I, um, I didn’t know I had other options.
MARTIN: (snorts) Don’t even start.
ARCHIVIST: Um, I—start- start what, exactly?
[MARTIN laughs disbelievingly, then there is an uncomfortable silence.]
MARTIN: W- y- you can’t—you’re not serious.
ARCHIVIST: Afraid so.
MARTIN: (astounded) You’re, like, the least stupid person I know.
[ARCHIVIST makes a surprisingly chuffed sound.]
MARTIN: I mean, you can be a giant wanker, but—
ARCHIVIST: Oh.
MARTIN: Oh, no.
ARCHIVIST: I- oh.
MARTIN: Did I just say that out loud?
ARCHIVIST: Mm.
MARTIN: With my mouth and everything?
ARCHIVIST: (laughing) Yes. The whole thing.
MARTIN: Shitting hell.
ARCHIVIST: Quite.
MARTIN: Can we please blame that it’s stupid o’clock?
ARCHIVIST: (still laughing, fondly) We better had, I think.
MARTIN: Sorry. I’m so sorry.
ARCHIVIST: (wryly) It’s alright. I, I mean, it’s not like it’s an incorrect assessment.
MARTIN: (rock and a hard place) Nn- I- y- I- I mean, not, like, frequently.
ARCHIVIST: Thank you, then.
MARTIN: I’m gonna jump out the window.
ARCHIVIST: (uneasy) Oh, please don’t. Imagine how incriminating that would look.
MARTIN: (laughing) Fine. Only ‘cause you asked.
ARCHIVIST: (audible smile) Good. Thank you.
[A moment passes.]
ARCHIVIST: I should let you get back to sleep.
MARTIN: I’m okay.
ARCHIVIST: You’re the one who’s always telling me about—sleep cycles and such.
MARTIN: You’re the one who’s fallen asleep at his desk four times since—uh… (loaded) since Daisy.
ARCHIVIST: Touché, but all the more reason you should get some more rest. Who’ll scold me if you’re out of commission?
MARTIN: Mmm. W- um… (sheepish) You can, um… you can give me a call later. If you want. When you’re done for the day.
[Tense pause, static crackling quietly.]
ARCHIVIST: I’d, um… I’d like that. I will.
MARTIN: Okay. (not joking) Don’t forget, though, or I’ll worry you got kidnapped again.
ARCHIVIST: (laughing) Right. A- alright. I won’t forget. (beat) Um, I- mm. Sleep well.
MARTIN: (suppressing a yawn) Yeah. Talk soon.
ARCHIVIST: Yes. (heh) Goodnight.
MARTIN: (touched) Yeah. Good, um, morning?
ARCHIVIST: (fond) Correct.
MARTIN: Nice. (rueful) Uh… yeah. Um. Bye.
ARCHIVIST: (fonder, chuckling) Bye, Martin. Sleep well.
[Click.]
[Background street noise, and the sound of a shaky sigh from the ARCHIVIST over a phone ringing.]
MARTIN: (playing it so cool) Oh! Um, hey! Didn’t think you’d be done yet.
ARCHIVIST: Hi. Um… (sheepish) Technically I’m- I’m, uh, not. I’ve only just left.
MARTIN: (chuffed) Oh! Um… ‘d it go alright?
ARCHIVIST: (sighs) It was fine, but- I- eh. It wasn’t particularly helpful.
MARTIN: (slightly deflated) Oh.
ARCHIVIST: Yeah. But- um, I, uh… I know where I’m headed next, at least.
MARTIN: (entirely deflated) I’m guessing it’s not Heathrow.
[Beat.]
ARCHIVIST: I’m sure you’ll all cope.
MARTIN: Hmm.
[Unpleasant silence.]
ARCHIVIST: I don’t want to be doing this either.
MARTIN: No, I’m- it’s—no, you’re right. It’s fine. We’ll be fine.
ARCHIVIST: (riiiight) Well. G- good.
MARTIN: Yup.
[Pause.]
ARCHIVIST: M- hmm. I- uh. Um, Martin?
MARTIN: Yeah?
ARCHIVIST: I’m… sorry.
MARTIN: What? N- huh? No, what?
ARCHIVIST: It… it sounded like you were cross.
MARTIN: Okay, I’m not five, so I’m not cross—
ARCHIVIST: (cutting in) Angry, then.
MARTIN: Not angry.
ARCHIVIST: Piqued, even?
MARTIN: (stifling laughter) Can you stop it?
ARCHIVIST: Or, what, you’ll be cross?
[Expectant silence. Static.]
MARTIN: Did you eat?
ARCHIVIST: Hm? Oh.
[Pause.]
MARTIN: (cross) Jon.
ARCHIVIST: What?
[Long pause.]
MARTIN: (surprisingly gently) Jon, you have to take better care of yourself. Seriously.
ARCHIVIST: Yes, yes. I- I will eat.
MARTIN: (serious) Right. When?
ARCHIVIST: Really?
MARTIN: Yes.
ARCHIVIST: I- w—o- okay. N- I, uh, I- fine. Two minutes, alright?
MARTIN: Huh?
ARCHIVIST: Going to order something, or you’ll just—
MARTIN: (crosstalk) Oh my god.
ARCHIVIST: (audible smile) —You know, bother me the whole call, so—
MARTIN: (laughing) Stupid.
ARCHIVIST: You don’t mind? I- I can hold off if—
MARTIN: No, no, it’s—it’s okay. Just—hah. If you were this cooperative in London I wouldn’t be in the habit of nagging you so often.
ARCHIVIST: Ah. Perhaps I should go abroad more often, no?
[ARCHIVIST fumbles audibly with his phone and wallet.]
MARTIN: (emphatically, under his breath) No.
ARCHIVIST: Hm?
MARTIN: Nothing.
ARCHIVIST: I’ll—can I call you back? Literally two minutes, I promise.
MARTIN: (sullenly) Yeah. Fine.
ARCHIVIST: Excellent. Thank you.
[Before the call cuts off, there is the briefest snatch of the ARCHIVIST speaking fluent Mandarin.]
[Click.]
ARCHIVIST: (harried) Jesus. Sorry.
MARTIN: It’s okay. Got some stuff done. Did you eat, at least?
ARCHIVIST: I- um, I mean I bought food? It- it took that long.
MARTIN: Eurgh. That long a queue?
ARCHIVIST: (sheepish) Um… no. I- uh. Hm. Never mind.
[Beat.]
MARTIN: (amused) Jon.
ARCHIVIST: (piqued, even) What?
MARTIN: (undeterred) Something happen?
ARCHIVIST: Uh. (sigh) I- I, um, I mean, I have enough trouble navigating social interactions when I do speak the language.
MARTIN: But… oh. Right.
[Long silence.]
ARCHIVIST: (stilted) But, um… well, anyway, you mentioned you got some things done. That’s—that—is—
[He trails off.]
MARTIN: (smiling) Yeah, true.
ARCHIVIST: Sh- I- I thought you wouldn’t appreciate me asking about work.
MARTIN: I am on the clock, so…
ARCHIVIST: R- right. How is work?
MARTIN: Crap.
[Beat.]
ARCHIVIST: Thank goodness I asked.
[Hesitant laughter.]
ARCHIVIST: But, I mean… how is—how are you all?
MARTIN: You already asked me.
ARCHIVIST: Yes, and it’s been—what, nine hours? Things can change.
MARTIN: (weary) Everyone’s okay. Basira’s settled in. Melanie’s, um…
ARCHIVIST: (uncomfortable) Yes.
MARTIN: And Tim’s, uh, not feeling his best.
[Pause.]
MARTIN: He gave a statement.
ARCHIVIST: What on earth possessed him to do that?
MARTIN: Um, uh… me, actually.
ARCHIVIST: Oh. I see.
MARTIN: Thought it could help.
ARCHIVIST: (warily) Help who?
[Static.]
MARTIN: You. I- both of you, I mean. Thought… thought he might find it… you know.
ARCHIVIST: Cathartic?
MARTIN: Y- yeah. Yeah. Cathartic.
ARCHIVIST: W- I- I won’t say I’m looking forward to it.
MARTIN: Yeah. It was… it was a bit rough. I hope he feels better having gotten it out.
[Silence.]
ARCHIVIST: You- uh- hmm. Yes. Yes, I- me, too.
MARTIN: Yeah.
[Beat.]
ARCHIVIST: Thank you.
MARTIN: (smiling) Yeah. You know.
[Longer silence, punctuated by mutual immediately aborted attempts at sentences.]
MARTIN: So… how’s the, uh—the food?
ARCHIVIST: Perfectly edible.
MARTIN: (snorts) Ooh, high praise.
ARCHIVIST: Hmm. I do keep trying to tell you—
MARTIN: That you’re, like, allergic to admitting you like things?
ARCHIVIST: I- tch- I’m not.
MARTIN: (heavy sarcasm) Oh, no, obviously not.
ARCHIVIST: W- no! So- I- in any case, no. I- I meant I’ve tried to tell you I—I don’t like to eat when I’m working.
MARTIN: (laughs) And—and you’re saying that and not thinking “I sound mental”?
ARCHIVIST: I, well, I, I’m not saying it makes sense, as such, just that—it’s just that having energy means I’ve got it to expend, and—and there’s always work to do.
MARTIN: You do sound mental.
ARCHIVIST: I assume that means I’ve got some job security.
MARTIN: Yeah, ‘cause without that you’d really be lacking in job security.
[A sigh from the ARCHIVIST which seems to suggest he is not up to making light of this today.]
ARCHIVIST: I’m almost back. To the hotel.
MARTIN: Oh. Okay.
ARCHIVIST: I- er, I’m going to be… I’ll be going to America.
MARTIN: What? Seriously? Why?
ARCHIVIST: Have you heard of the Usher Foundation?
MARTIN: Um… don’t they just collect UFO crap?
ARCHIVIST: (chuckles) I- I’ll admit they have some UFO crap on file, yes. But they’re something of a sister organisation. I’m following a lead.
MARTIN: Oh. That—okay.
ARCHIVIST: Yes. And, I—um. I don’t know when I’ll be reachable, but if I call and you’re sleeping, I endorse you ignoring it.
MARTIN: Pffft.
ARCHIVIST: Martin. Promise me.
MARTIN: (very flustered) I, I, um, w- I, uh, I promise I’ll try.
[Silence. Neither of them believe him.]
ARCHIVIST: Right. Okay.
MARTIN: Yup.
[Beat.]
MARTIN: Enjoy your UFO crap.
[Subdued laughter.]
ARCHIVIST: Enjoy—all—of that.
MARTIN: Yeah. I do look forward to giving it back to you, though.
ARCHIVIST: Mm. Likewise.
[Beat.]
ARCHIVIST: Talk to you soon.
MARTIN: (hastily) Yup! Bye.
[Click.]
[Significantly later.]
MARTIN: (very apprehensively) H- um, hello?
ARCHIVIST: I’m so sorry it’s been so long—
MARTIN: (crosstalk) Oh my god, where the hell have you been? It’s been, like, a week, I thought—
ARCHIVIST: I’m—I, I’m sorry. It certainly wasn’t my intention to- mm. I’m very sorry.
MARTIN: What happened, then?
ARCHIVIST: I, um… (mumbles inaudibly)
MARTIN: Sorry?
ARCHIVIST: I- I just, um, I—I got a bit—kidnapped. That’s all.
MARTIN: (utterly flabbergasted) Again?
ARCHIVIST: Not on purpose!
[Mutual incoherent grumbling and sounds of irritation and/or disbelief.]
MARTIN: So… are you… are you okay?
ARCHIVIST: I’m—er, define “okay”.
MARTIN: Are you hurt? Did they let you go? Are you coming home? Did—
ARCHIVIST: (crosstalk) M- d- Ma- Martin. Martin.
MARTIN: S- sorry. What?
ARCHIVIST: I’m at O’Hare, my flight is boarding soon. I only got here about twenty minutes ago.
MARTIN: (chuffed) And you still rang?
ARCHIVIST: Yes.
[The kind of silence that digs its claws in.]
ARCHIVIST: I—um. W- I—well. Yes. I did.
MARTIN: Oh. Um. Thanks.
ARCHIVIST: (chuckling) I suppose sounding too pleased might ruin your reputation with the others.
MARTIN: (earnestly) What? N- no, I’m serious. I—I appreciate you—thinking to get in touch. (beat) Thank you.
[Long pause.]
MARTIN: (anxiously) Are you—are you there?
ARCHIVIST: Hm? Oh. Uh. Mm. Yes. Sorry, it’s been… it’s—
MARTIN: Was the accommodation better or worse than the last hotel you stayed in?
ARCHIVIST: (smiling) Better pillows, surprisingly.
[Both laugh.]
ARCHIVIST: But I can—we’ll—we can… we should try to, um, talk. Properly. When I get back.
[ARCHIVIST gives a deep, world-weary sigh.]
MARTIN: Y- yeah! Yeah. That’d be—yeah.
ARCHIVIST: First I’ll have to make it there in one piece, though, so…
MARTIN: Oh! Yeah. Yeah. Of- of course. Um, j- just stay safe, okay?
ARCHIVIST: Honestly, if someone works out how to kidnap me from a plane halfway across the Atlantic, I think they’ve earned the right to—
MARTIN: Jon.
ARCHIVIST: Too soon?
MARTIN: Maybe a bit too soon.
ARCHIVIST: Sorry. I’m- sorry. I, um… talk soon.
MARTIN: Yeah.
[Something goes unsaid.]
ARCHIVIST: Well, um…
MARTIN: (crosstalk) Anyway. Um, bye, Jon.
ARCHIVIST: Yes. Yep. Bye.
[Click.]