Weight of the Heart (Bruna Husky Book 2) (33 page)

Central Archive, the United States of the Earth

Alien Life: Bubi
(extract)

#00-3400

BUBI (
pl.
bubes,
colloq. Erth.
greedy-guts)

A creature native to Omaá, the bubi is a small domestic mammal that has recently been introduced to Earth with considerable success because its resistant and adaptable constitution allows it to be reared easily on our planet, making it an ideal pet. It is a heterosexual species and lacks dimorphism: males and females are identical, save for their genital equipment, and even the latter is difficult to distinguish externally. The adult bubi weighs about twenty pounds and can live for up to twenty years. It’s a clean animal, easy to train, calm, affectionate toward its owner, and capable of articulating words thanks to a rudimentary speech system. The majority of scientists consider that the bubi’s speech is nothing more than an imitative reflex similar to that of parrots on Earth. Some zoologists, nevertheless, maintain that these creatures possess a high degree of intelligence almost comparable to that of chimpanzees, and that there is an expressive intentionality in their verbal utterances. The bubi is omnivorous and voracious. Its main food sources are insects, vegetables, and cereals rich in fiber, but if hungry it can eat almost anything, especially cloth and cardboard. This constant eating has gained it the nickname “greedy-guts” on Earth. Various animal associations—both regional and planetary—have presented legal arguments seeking the same taxonomic consideration for bubes as for great apes and, therefore, recognition as sentient beings.

THANKS, THE ODD EXPLANATION, AND A SMALL WONDER

I
n the first place, I want to thank the enormous generosity of the Argentinian physicist Alberto Rojo, a professor at Oakland University in Michigan, a brilliant man who is also a musician and a formidable writer of popular nonfiction (and soon also fiction). Alberto was kind enough to read a draft of this book to see if I was writing too much scientific nonsense. He corrected some, and if there is still the odd inconsistency, I’m certain the fault is mine.

My heartfelt thanks, as always, to the dear friends who took the trouble to read drafts and offer suggestions, especially Antonio Sarabí, Myriam Chirousse, Alejandro Gándara, Juan Max Lacruz, Frank Nuyts, and my editor, Elena Ramírez.

That marvelous sentence “The caged tiger paces back and forth incessantly so that the unique and incredibly brief moment of salvation won’t escape him” is from the great Elias Canetti.

The equally wonderful aphorism “Dwarfs have a sort of sixth sense that enables them to recognize each other at a glance” belongs to Augusto Monterroso.

I found the two sentences that the false tactile recites—“I am merely the instrument through which life manifests itself. My voice blends with the other, who is listening, sharing. An open heart disposed to prayer. Life, how beautiful you are,” and “Upset by words, you fall into the abyss. In disagreement with words, you reach the dead end, which is doubt”—on a blog of Buddhist content called
Comando Dharma
. I have the greatest respect for Buddhism, which, more than a religion, strikes me as an extremely interesting philosophy, and it goes without saying that it is the complete opposite of Labari’s fanaticism. I want to apologize for putting those words in the mouth of my dark tactile. I needed some phrases that would be sufficiently attractive and beautiful, and I found that they were both ideal for my narrative needs.

The story of the giant and the dwarf is a new, extended, and retouched version of a story I wrote many years ago and which appeared in my novel
Bella y oscura
(
Beautiful and Dark
). I added the brushstroke of the river and the boat, inspired by an ancient Chinese legend that Marguerite Yourcenar captured in her lovely story “How Wang-Fô Was Saved.”

As to Onkalo, it’s all true. I mean, what I write about the place up to the year 2014 is true. I strongly recommend viewing a magnificent and hair-raising documentary by Michael Madsen about this nuclear waste dump. The title is
Into Eternity
, and it lasts for seventy-five hypnotic minutes.

By the way this documentary was the source of one of those strange moments of magic that tend to gather like ectoplasms around the writing of a novel—as you’ll see.

I was editing the first draft when I reached the moment when Nuyts gives Bruna a picture that is in reality a map. I needed to choose a classic picture, and at first I thought of using a work from the Flemish school, because their intricate detail could serve to hide the geographical map. But then
The Scream
by Munch popped into my head, and as soon as I thought of it I knew with absolute certainty that it had to be that picture. So I used the painting by Munch and went on writing and developing the plot. When I was getting close to the final chapters, in fact the night before I got to Onkalo, I sat down to watch Madsen’s film to get an idea of what the nuclear site looked like and collect as much information as possible about the place. At one particular moment in the film, they talk about the things I portray in the novel; initially the people responsible for Onkalo were thinking of putting up some sort of sign to warn the future inhabitants of the Earth that the zone contained dangerous materials. And suddenly Munch’s
The Scream
filled my TV screen, because one of the options they had tossed around was to use a reproduction of that picture, as they felt the work transmitted a terrifying message of danger and fear in an essential and timeless manner. The coincidence blew me away.

I sometimes think that we humans are united by intangible ties, that as a species our minds brush up against each other’s, that we form a single entity capable of moving through the ether in unison, like a school of fish in the sea of time. What a pity that despite this profound and delicate harmony we are unable to stop killing each other.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Photo © 2011 Violeta de Lamaoto

Rosa Montero is an acclaimed novelist and an award-winning journalist for the Spanish newspaper
El País
. A native of Madrid and the daughter of a professional bullfighter, Montero published her first novel at age twenty-eight. She has won Spain’s top book award, the Qué Leer Prize, twice
-
for
La loca de la casa
(
The Lunatic of the House
) in 2003 and
Historia del Rey Transparente
(
Story of the Transparent King
) in 2005. Montero is a prolific author of twenty-six books, and her other titles include the short-story collection
Amantes y enemigos
(
Lovers and Enemies
) and the novels
Bella y oscura
(
Beautiful and Dark
),
Amado amo
(
My Beloved Boss
), and
El corazón del Tártaro
(
The Heart of the Tartar
).
Tears in Rain
(
Lágrimas en la lluvia
) was named one of
World Literature Today
’s 75 Notable Translations in 2012.

ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR

Photo © 2013 Tess Flynn, La Trobe University

Lilit Žekulin Thwaites is an award-winning translator and academic who lives in Melbourne, Australia. She specializes in Spanish women writers and the society, cultures, and literatures of contemporary Spain. Her translation of Rosa Montero’s
Tears in Rain
was recognized as one of
World Literature Today
’s 75 Notable Translations of 2012.
The Immortal Collection
(by Eva García Sáenz) was published in April 2014. Her translations of a number of short stories by Spanish writers have appeared in various anthologies and literary journals. In 2014, she was awarded one of four prestigious Omi Translation Lab residencies in the United States. She recently won the Multicultural New South Wales Early Career Translator Prize at the 2015 NSW Premier’s Literary Awards, and a grant from the Melbourne UNESCO City of Literature Travel Fund.