Chapter 18
Kaden left Joe sleeping the next morning.
He was due at the Tate Modern by ten and he needed to get his head straight before he arrived.
He’d told Joe he was ‘getting there’ with all this and he was, but he was still overwhelmed.
One moment he was excited, the next scared.
He was the only person in the world who knew about Joe, that he’d crash landed on Earth in an alien spaceship that was now at the bottom of a river.
At least he thought he was the only one who knew.
Joe already felt more human than Kaden imagined he could have managed in such a short time.
But when he’d been inside him, he’d consumed a huge amount of data.
Now he was learning through experience. Joe didn’t know everything.
How could he? He’d thought an actual little bird had talked to Kaden’s landlord, which made Kaden smile.
Then not smile when he knew it had to be Harris’ work.
He felt sick when he thought of Harris having two aliens inside him. If they did breed… Maybe he’d have to tell the truth if that happened. Kaden had to stop thinking about it. With a bit of luck, Marmite would have done the trick.
He’d started to see the world through Joe’s eyes through his attitude to food, emotions, pets, nature…
Joe’s wonder at what Kaden had long taken for granted had almost made him jealous of Joe’s appreciation and enjoyment.
But he worried. It was too dangerous for anyone to find out where Joe had come from.
Kaden could never tell anyone. So just as Joe had been a protector and had protected Kaden, Kaden now felt that same instinct to protect Joe.
By the time he walked into the museum, he felt a little more settled.
He’d always wanted a grand adventure and now he was having one.
He wondered what his mother would think.
She’d probably be thrilled. Seemed strange to think he’d have likely told her if she’d been alive but he was unwilling to tell his dad.
When Kaden returned just after lunch, he handed Joe a phone and a wallet.
Joe gasped. “For me?”
“It’s just a cheap phone but I want to know that we can contact each other.” And reassure myself that you’re safe. “I’ll show you how to use it later.” He whispered the last sentence.
“Thank you.”
“Like a coffee?” Alistair called.
“Yes, please.”
“I’ll make them,” Joe said.
“What was the exhibition like?” Alistair asked.
“Amazing and disturbing. The name says it all. Who Makes Art After Us?”
“Aren’t we on the verge of that with advances in AI?” Alistair said.
Kaden nodded. “This exhibition’s going to make people think.
It’s huge and immersive, looking at the effects on art, culture and identity after AI has taken over.
” He sighed. “Assuming it does take over, but the whole thing is really well done. I was impressed with the final exhibit. The Turbine Hall’s been filled with hundreds of thousands of illuminated fibre optic threads to represent a giant neural network.
In other words, a living digital brain. It pulses in time with global internet traffic and every now and again, it goes silent as if that had been the final transmission. It was thought provoking.”
“It sounds it.”
Joe brought the coffees over.
“Thanks.” Kaden smiled at him. “What have you been up to this morning?”
“We’ve been playing cards,” Alistair said. “My goodness me, Joe is amazing. I shuffled a pack of cards and he looked at each one, then told me the order with no hesitation. I used to have a good memory, but never as sharp as his. He said he’d played online and won money.”
“I was shocked.” Kaden chuckled.
“I’d like to play in a casino,” Joe said.
“Can I take him?” Alistair asked. “I know a place we could go. A private members club.”
“And you don’t mind that he’s going to take money off your friends?”
Alistair chuckled. “Not the ones I’ll guide him towards. If you want to stay back and write your article, we could go this afternoon.”
“Joe doesn’t have a bank account. Just an application registration card from the immigration service.”
“I can help him set up a digital account. Easier than using a high street bank.”
It felt weird that Alistair was doing this, even though Kaden knew he was only trying to be helpful.
“Please,” Joe said. Whether that was to him or Alistair, Kaden wasn’t sure.
“I can’t stop you going. I just don’t like gambling.”
“Staying in control is the key,” Alistair said. “I won’t let anything bad happen to him.”
Protection was one thing, but Kaden couldn’t dictate what Joe did. “If you set up an account, I’ll transfer over the money that he won.”
“You don’t need to. I’ll give him a few thousand because I’m sure I’ll get it back.”
Oh God. Had Alistair fallen under his spell too?
Joe would win, wouldn’t he? He didn’t want Alistair to be out of pocket or they’d have nowhere to live.
Kaden worried the whole afternoon after they’d left, but he managed to write the article on the exhibition and send it off, and the one on fossils, as well as plan his open-mic spot at Hoopers.
Searching for a flat was trickier. And he wanted to do that with Joe, for it to be his decision too.
While he was waiting for them to return, he worked on Alistair’s fictional story.
~~~
Alistair and Joe went to his club in a cab. Joe was wearing dark jeans, a white shirt and one of Alistair’s ties. Alistair had lent him a jacket and explained about a dress code.
“The club’s in Mayfair,” Alistair said.
“Okay.” Joe had no idea where that was.
“Be careful how much you drink.”
“I don’t want to drink.”
Alistair smiled at him. “They’ll try and persuade you. I’ll drink while I’m watching you. The other thing I ought to warn you about is that they might think you’re my toy boy. I hope that won’t bother you.”
“What’s a toy boy?” Should I know? It was useful pretending to be from another country. He could explain a lack of knowledge or mistakes with that explanation.
Alistair leaned closer. “A young man in a relationship with an older man or an older woman.”
“Oh.” Joe thought about it. “Do you want them to think that?”
“It might be nice to ruffle a few feathers.”
Joe worked out what that meant. “Then ruffle away. Unless Kaden would mind?”
“Just acting, dear boy. That’s all it will be. I wouldn’t step on Kaden’s toes and you’re a little young for me.”
Joe was in awe when they walked into the club.
It was amazing. Wood panelling, oil paintings on the walls, leather furniture, intricate rugs laid over a parquet floor, twinkling glass light fittings…
chandeliers. On his planet, stark lines and regular curves dominated.
There was nothing anywhere that wasn’t deemed necessary. Function came above all.
Once their coats were handed over to an attendant, they headed up the stairs. Joe didn’t feel nervous or apprehensive. He was excited.
“The club is open twenty-four hours a day,” Alistair told him. “It’s designed to look like an English country mansion.”
“Does it?”
Alistair laughed. “It does. I forgot for a moment you’ve never been inside one. What was your home like in Kabul?”
“Mud and stone. But pretty substantial. No electricity or running water. I showered at work.”
“A very different life to here.”
“Yes.”
Joe stuck close to Alistair who occasionally rested his hand on his back.
He kept quiet unless he was introduced to someone and shook hands when they were offered.
Joe was the youngest person there, and no doubt the poorest. He drank everything in.
The clothes people were wearing, the scarcity of women, the way those who worked there were treated and spoken to, how the thick carpet swallowed footsteps and most of all, the way in which he and Alistair were watched and judged.
Alistair chatted with a few people. He seemed to be constantly attentive. Did you ever retire as a spy?
Those playing were mostly men, though there were a couple of women. They were watching each other, almost all pretending the money didn’t mean anything, that they didn’t mind losing. But the money meant everything to Joe. He didn’t want to lose, though he knew he wouldn’t win every game.
“We’ll just walk around seeing what’s what.” Alistair already had a whisky in his hand. Joe had declined a drink.
He stuck close to Alistair, watched, listened and learned.
Alistair quietly told him the value of the chips by the colour and Joe registered how high the bets were on a couple of tables.
He wanted to join in. His mind was counting, tracking patterns, watching the dealers and noting luck and skill among the players.
There was always an element of luck in any of these games, but skill could twist things in your favour in poker and blackjack where decisions and strategy mattered.
“Tell me when you’re ready to sit down,” Alistair said softly. “May I suggest the table to our left?”
“Are you going to play too?” he asked Alistair.
“Not today. Not now I’ve seen what you can do.”
“Okay. I’m ready. Poker. That table is fine.”
“A seat will come up soon.”
How did he know? But he was right and Joe slid onto the chair. The men around the table eyed him curiously. Joe just smiled. Alistair had moved away but he was watching. Joe didn’t miss that the man whose seat he’d taken had quietly said something to Alistair before he walked away.
The first few hands went as Joe had mentally predicted. He was still learning, seeing the way his opponents played, those who were cautious, those who were not. Then Joe made a big win. The dealer had hesitated just for a fraction of a second before pushing the stacks of chips his way.