The Calcutta Chromosome

Though expecting his neighbor—a young lady who had recently moved in—for dinner that evening, Antar becomes preoccupied with an ID card that Ava has identified. Antar recognizes it as being a Life-Watch ID, similar to the one he’d worn for most of his life.

Antar joined Life-Watch shortly after graduating from Patrice Lumumba University in Moscow. Life-Watch advertised internationally for a programmer and analyst, and offered an American salary in a safe and settled environment, and with a guaranteed visa. He jumped at the opportunity but didn’t expect to get the job, thinking competition would be fierce. To his surprise, he found himself third on the shortlist. When the two people ahead of him got other offers, the job was offered to Antar.

Life-Watch was a global public health consultancy and epidemiological data bank that has since been absorbed by the International Water Council, for whom Antar now works for. Like many of his colleagues, he was assigned to an inconsequential “At Home” job by the International Water Council.

Antar knows the ID card was from the mid-80s or early 90s, but Ava is taking longer than usual to find the card’s point of origin. Hoping to have time for his walk to Penn Station before Tara, his neighbor, comes over, Antar types in a command for Ava to provide a follow-up narrative on the card’s chain of provenances. After a few more seconds, Ava determines that the ID card originated in Calcutta.

While Antar is waiting for Ava to provide more information on the card, Antar looks into his kitchen and through the window at Tara’s apartment. He’s relieved to find that she’s not home yet.

With nothing to do but wait for Ava to finish the task, Antar begins to daydream in anticipation of the cup of sweet, dark tea waiting for him at the donut shop at Penn Station, and of the regulars who periodically drop by. Most of the time, they’ll watch Arabic or Hindi films together. Sometimes, they talk about the latest gadgets for sale.

Antar had started going to the donut shop because the owner was an Egyptian, like himself. He didn’t go because he missed speaking Arabic; Ava provides enough of that, having been programmed to simulate the local rural dialect of the Nile Delta, where Antar had grown up as a boy. Instead, Antar liked going to Penn Station to get away from Ava and the bleak, empty, cold building he lives in. Antar always felt “there was something enlivening, magical almost, about walking from that wind-blown street into the brilliantly lit passageways of Penn Station” (14). There was also the tea; the “owner brewed it specifically, for himself and Antar, in a chipped enamel pot, thick and syrupy, with a touch of mint—just like Antar remembered from his boyhood” (14-15).

The building Antar lives in was once nothing but apartments filled with large families of Middle Eastern and Central Asian descent. Antar had moved in with his wife, Tayseer. However, his wife, and the baby she was expecting, died from an amniotic embolism. Antar thought about moving, but not with much conviction. He lives alone now. As for the families that once enlivened the apartments around him, they have long since moved on. The first three floors of the building were rezoned for commercial purposes, and very few tenants remain on the floors above. Up until Tara moved in, Antar had lived on the fourth floor alone for the past four years.

Antar met Tara through Maria, a Guyanese woman from the donut shop: “Tara was small and birdlike, with a fine-boned beak of the nose” (17). Antar thought she was in her thirties and probably from India. She was quick to get to know Antar, and according to Maria was looking for a cheap apartment. Maria thought Antar could help, since there are a lot of empty apartments where he lives. Antar was surprised that Maria knew where he lived, and she replied in a rather vague manner, telling him, “Oh, I just heard from someone […]” (19). Antar had become accustomed to having the fourth floor for himself, and was at first reluctant to help Tara, but agreed after Maria begged him to show her the building. Besides, Antar believed the neighborhood would scare her off. Antar was therefore surprised when Tara took an instant liking to the apartment.

Bringing his thoughts back to the present, Antar is startled to see it’s fifteen minutes to six, which Ava confirmed, “calling out the hour in the style of a village watchman in Egypt” (19). His shift would be over shortly.

The photograph on the ID card starts to take shape in the form of a holographic projection in the center of the living room. Antar quickly realizes that the man is of Indian descent. The image shows a man with carefully-trimmed hair. He has bright black eyes and his face is full and moonlike, with puffed-out cheeks and a jutting chin that ends in a carefully-trimmed goatee. However, it’s the nose that stands out; it’s “a boxer’s nose, sunken at the bridge” (21). The nose is somehow familiar.

Antar steps back to take in the image, focusing on the mouth. He sees the lips are slightly parted, as if the man were saying something, which stirs a memory of a tubby little man who was well-dressed and always wore a hat.

Antar remembers seeing the man strutting down corridors, carrying files under his arms. He remembers an accent that was neither American nor Indian, “and a loud, screeching, self-satisfied voice that left behind a trail of amused glances” (21). He also remembers a meeting with the man, years ago, but he can’t quite place the name yet. Suddenly, Antar remembers; the man’s name is L. Murugan.

Antar has Ava search for the file in the Council’s archived records. He is expecting a rather bulky file but instead skims through a much smaller amount of material. On reaching the last line of the file, Antar suddenly recalls that it was he who had typed it, just a few years prior. It reads: “Subject missing since August 21, 1995[…]  last seen Calcutta, India” (22).