Chapter 25 – Day Off

German reached the main entrance of the Center first that morning. He was already standing by the steps, looking at something on his phone, when Gobby appeared from the parking lot with a bottle of something sweet in one hand and a small paper bag in the other. German looked up. You already ate? This isn’t food. It’s breakfast. How is breakfast different from food? Gobby thought about it. Timing. German opened his mouth, but the doors of the Center opened first. Number One stood at the top of the steps. He looked at German, then at Gobby. No sessions today. Gobby stopped. At all? At all. No training? No. No assignments? No. Gobby stared at him for another few seconds. So we’re taking the day off? I have orders to spend the day with you outside the Center. Gobby’s face immediately brightened. So we’re taking the day off. That’s not what I said. But there’s no training. No. No assignments. No. And we’re not supposed to be in the Center until evening. Correct. Gobby turned to German. Well? German adjusted his glasses. If you exclude training, assignments, and being inside the Center, then technically we have free time. Gobby nodded with satisfaction and looked at Number One. See? Even German’s intuition confirmed it. Not intuition. Logic. Exactly. Intuition. Gobby. Logic. Fine.

Number One watched them silently for several seconds. Where are you going? Gobby was already walking down the steps. The quay. Why? To eat. Number One looked at him. We can eat somewhere nearby. Why go all the way to the quay? Gobby stopped and turned around. Instructor, you just said something very strange. German followed him. I think he means the point is not simply satisfying the physiological need for food. It’s the choice, the taste, and the process itself. Gobby pointed at him. That’s why I trust your intuition. German turned his head. Logic. That’s what I said. No. But you understood me. That does not make the word correct. Gobby shrugged and kept walking.

Number One came down after them. Where exactly on the quay? There’s a small market. I used to go there all the time. They know me. German looked at him. How well? Very well. Why does that make me nervous? Because you have good intuition. Logic. Gobby was already picking up his pace. Anyway. No excuses. We’re off today. We’re going to the quay. I’ll show you a place. We’re already walking together, German pointed out. Even easier. Gobby turned around and walked backward for several steps. And faster. If we get there late, all the best stuff will be gone. German looked at Number One. By my logic, he is about to start running. Gobby immediately sped up. See! Intuition again. German took a deep breath. I literally just said “by my logic.” Gobby waved at them happily. Faster! Number One followed in silence. A few seconds later Gobby turned around again. Instructor! What? No serious faces today. Number One did not answer. Gobby looked at German. Fine. We’ll work on that too.

They had not even reached the first stalls when someone spotted Gobby. A man behind a counter where small fish were sizzling on skewers over a hot grill squinted down the quay, then leaned over the counter. Gobby? A voice immediately came from the next row. Where? There he is! Within seconds, the market seemed to wake up. Gobby! You’ve got some nerve! Where have you been? We thought you found another market! Traitor! Someone stepped out from behind a counter, someone else waved from two stalls away, and several people were already demanding explanations. Gobby broke into a huge smile and raised both hands. I was busy! So busy you stopped eating? someone shouted from the right. We don’t believe you! I ate! Then you’re definitely a traitor! The market laughed. Gobby answered several people at once, promised he would come by every stall, and was clearly far more at home here than he ever was at the Center. German stayed half a step behind, mostly silent, answering greetings with short nods. Number One walked beside them, calmly observing the commotion. I told you they know me, Gobby said. German looked around at the people still calling his name from every direction. You said “know.” That was a significant understatement.

At the first counter, the vendor was already taking a small grilled fish off the rack. Come here. Try this. And don’t you dare tell me you’ve eaten anything better since you disappeared. Gobby took the skewer, bit into the fish, chewed with complete seriousness, and shook his head. Can’t say that. Good answer. Are we taking bets today? someone called out. Too late! the fish vendor shouted back. He already picked! The market laughed again. The man slapped Gobby on the shoulder, then suddenly left his hand there, stepped back, and looked him up and down. Hold on. What did they do to you? What do you mean? You lost weight. Gobby looked down at himself. Well… a little. A little? The vendor raised his voice. Look at him! We had our cute little chubby Gobby, and now what is this? Shoulders. Muscles. You’ve turned into some kind of bodybuilder. Disgraceful. Exactly! a woman at the neighboring stall immediately called out. We didn’t raise him like this! Who made you lose weight? someone shouted farther down the row. I was training, Gobby tried to explain. Why? Well… I had to. An older man selling hot pastries had already come out from behind his stall. He looked Gobby over as if Gobby had personally disappointed him and shoved two pastries into his hands. I don’t know who’s training you over there, but we liked our chubby Gobby better. Agreed! Bring back the old Gobby! I’m still Gobby! he protested. The old man pointed at the pastries. Then prove it. German turned away, but not before Gobby caught the smile. You think this is funny? A little. Traitor. They already used that one today. Then it fits. Meanwhile, the fish vendor finally noticed German. Is this that friend of yours? German. German gave a short nod. Hello. Quiet one, huh? Here, try this. A second skewer appeared in his hand. Thank you. Gobby, do you ever remember to feed him? I’m constantly trying. That is not true, German said. See? He’s talking already. The man laughed, nodded to Number One, received the same calm nod in return, and immediately went back to Gobby.

At the next stall, a woman selling hot flatbreads filled with meat and cheese spotted Gobby and came straight out to meet him. Finally! She hugged him, stepped back, looked him over, and frowned. They’re right. You did lose weight. Terrible. Why is everyone… Quiet. She wrapped a small hot flatbread and pushed it into his hands. Then she looked at German. This is German? Yeah. Hello, he said quietly. Hello, German. One for you too. A second flatbread appeared almost immediately. Only then did the woman notice the third person standing beside them. Her gaze lingered. Number One stood calmly at the counter. And who’s this? she asked Gobby, still looking at him. Our instructor. Instructor? Yep. She looked back at Gobby as if she were about to ask something else, but her eyes almost immediately returned to Number One. Why isn’t he eating anything? He didn’t want any. Thank you, I’m fine, Number One said. The woman looked at him for another few seconds, picked up a flatbread, examined it, put it back, and chose another one, the largest and most perfectly browned. Try this one. No, thank you. I wasn’t asking. Number One accepted it. Thank you. Tell me if you like it. All right. Gobby stopped chewing. He looked at his flatbread. Then at Number One’s. Then at the woman. He said nothing.

They passed several more familiar stalls, and Gobby slowly began to notice the same thing happening again. Men greeted Number One and almost immediately returned to talking to Gobby. Women talked to Gobby first too, but then, for some reason, their eyes stayed on Number One noticeably longer. At the next stall, a woman spotted them, raised a hand cheerfully to Gobby, saw Number One, and froze for a second. Gobby slowly turned to German. You noticed too? Yes. It’s because of him? With high probability. Gobby looked at the woman, then at Number One, then back at the stall. Let’s test it.

Gobby headed confidently farther down the market. German walked beside him. What exactly are you planning to test? Your intuition. Logic. That. If people start giving us extra food because of him, we need to know whether it’s a coincidence. German glanced at Number One, who was walking just behind them. We would need more observations before drawing a conclusion. Gobby nodded, satisfied. See? I knew you agreed with me. I agreed that more observations are necessary. I did not agree to using another person to obtain free food. We’re not using anyone. We’re just walking. You literally just said you want to see whether people give us more food because of him. But he’s walking with us anyway. German stared at him for several seconds. That does not refute what I said. Number One looked from one to the other. Where are we going? The bakery. For Empanadas de Pino. For what? The best pastries on the quay. German adjusted his glasses. He calls almost anything made of dough with filling Empanadas de Pino. Because that’s the correct name. No. Yes. No. Gobby waved him off. Instructor, don’t listen to him. I’m going to introduce you to someone who actually understands food. Until then, just walk normally. I am walking normally. Perfect. Don’t change anything. German added quietly, That will make the observation cleaner. Number One looked at him. What? Fewer confounding variables. Gobby broke into a grin. See? There are two of us now.

The first observation was completely ordinary. A man at an open grill greeted Gobby loudly, made him try a piece of meat with a new seasoning, handed skewers to German and Number One as well, then immediately went back to questioning Gobby about where he had been. Once they moved away from the stall, Gobby gave German a questioning look. German shook his head slightly. Nothing? Nothing. Zero-zero. This is not a competition. A few minutes later, a woman at a caramel apple stand called them over. At first, once again, everything was about Gobby. She complained about how long he had been gone and handed him a small apple coated in glossy caramel. German got another. Then she noticed Number One. She stopped, looked at him more carefully, turned toward the apples, and began choosing. She picked one up, turned it around, put it back. The second one did not satisfy her either. Finally, she found the largest, most even apple with a perfect coat of caramel, wrapped it, and held it out to him. Take this one. Thank you, I don’t need one. You do. I didn’t want an apple. You will later. Number One watched her for several seconds, then accepted it. Thank you. The woman smiled. Good. They moved on. Gobby looked at his own apple, then at Number One’s. His is prettier. Yes, German said. One-zero. This is still not a score. His apple is still prettier.

The next stop was more interesting. A man in his mid-thirties sold smoked cheeses, olives, and small assortments of cold snacks. He recognized Gobby immediately, shook his hand, demanded to know where he had been, gave him a sample of a new smoked cheese, then offered German a piece as well. Only then did he notice Number One. His gaze lingered for an extra second. He automatically straightened the collar of his shirt beneath his apron and asked, What kind of cheese do you like? I don’t know. Then try this one. He took out another piece from under the counter. I don’t usually put this one out for samples. Thank you, I’m fine. Try it. It’s good. Number One took the cheese. The man kept watching him. Well? Number One chewed. Good. Told you. The vendor’s smile widened noticeably. If you want, I can put together a small box for you. Olives, sun-dried tomatoes, two more cheeses. No, thank you. Sure? Sure. If you change your mind, let me know. Gobby was already slowly turning his head toward German. German caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. Don’t start. I didn’t say anything. You’re already counting. Two-zero. Gobby. What? Our sample is getting more diverse. German looked at him, then at Number One. Unfortunately, you are right about that. Gobby nodded with satisfaction. Good intuition. Logic. Yeah, yeah.

A few minutes later someone called to them again. A young woman behind a stand of chocolate-covered strawberries waved enthusiastically at Gobby. Gobby! Where have you been? Long story. Then tell me while you eat. She handed him a large strawberry dipped in dark chocolate and gave German another one, then looked up at Number One and fell silent for a second. And you? Thank you, I’m fine. You don’t like strawberries? They’re fine. Then try one. Number One accepted the berry. Thank you. The girl watched him eat it, then took out a small box and started filling it with more strawberries, some in dark chocolate, some in white, some covered with crushed nuts. Take these with you. One was enough. They’re different. I don’t need them. It’s fine. Try them later. The box ended up in his hands anyway. Gobby said nothing. He simply looked at German. German sighed. Yes. I didn’t even ask yet. I know. Three-zero. It’s not a score. It is now. Gobby looked back at Number One, who was walking behind them with a wrapped caramel apple in one hand and a box of chocolate-covered strawberries in the other, and for several seconds looked extremely pleased with the results of the study. German. What? He’s very useful. Don’t say that so loudly. Why? Because he can hear you. Number One answered calmly from behind them. I can. Gobby turned around. I meant it in a good way. I know.

They were almost at the familiar bakery when the sound of a child crying came from a narrow passage between two rows of stalls. Gobby stopped immediately. The crying came again, loud and breathless. A second ago he had been looking ahead at the sign already visible in the distance. Now he turned only toward the sound. There’s a kid over there. German looked in the same direction. Gobby turned into the passage without hesitation, and a few seconds later they saw a girl of about six or seven standing alone at the edge of the aisle, clutching a small bag against her stomach with both hands and crying so hard she could barely speak. Gobby crouched in front of her. Hey. Are you lost? The girl tried to answer but only started crying harder. You lost your mom? She nodded. Okay. We’ll find her. Don’t cry. Gobby was already reaching for his caramel apple. German looked at him. What are you doing? I want to give her something tasty. Why are you trying to feed a crying child? Gobby stared at him in genuine surprise. Tasty food always makes me feel better. German was silent for several seconds. Gobby, you don’t know whether she has any allergies. Gobby looked at the girl, then at the apple, and very reluctantly put it away. Sometimes your intuition is really inconvenient. Logic. Especially now. German crouched beside the girl. What’s your name? Where did you last see your mom? The girl sniffled and tried to answer.

German continued asking calm, precise questions: where she had last seen her mother, what they had been buying, what her mother was wearing, which direction they had come from. The girl tried to answer, lost track, sniffled, and started crying again. Number One stood a short distance away, silently scanning the people around them. At some point, the girl drew in a breath, ready to start sobbing again, turned her head, and saw him for the first time. Her crying faltered. She sniffled once more, quieter this time, then stopped answering German entirely. Tears were still running down her cheeks, but now she was simply staring at Number One. Gobby followed her gaze. German turned too. Number One stood calmly with the box of strawberries in one hand and the wrapped caramel apple in the other. The girl wiped her cheek and studied him carefully for several seconds. I’ve only seen someone this beautiful in donghua. Number One turned his head slightly toward her. You look like you came out of one. No. The girl thought about it. You still do. Gobby slowly turned toward German. German saw the look on his face. Don’t. I didn’t say anything. But you were about to. Four-zero. That is not even the variable we were measuring. But she stopped crying. German looked at the girl, who had completely forgotten about her tears and was still studying Number One. It appears the original hypothesis was too narrow. Which one? It’s not about free food. Gobby looked at Number One. Then what is it? German paused. Him. Gobby nodded, pleased. That’s what I was saying. No. You were talking about food.

Meanwhile, Number One looked over the heads of the crowd and focused on a woman about thirty meters away. She was moving quickly against the flow of people, barely noticing anyone around her, constantly scanning children’s faces and returning to the same aisles. Is that your mom? The girl turned, froze, then shouted, Mom! The woman saw her and almost broke into a run. Seconds later she was on her knees, holding her daughter tightly, kissing her hair, scolding her, asking why she had wandered away, and nearly crying herself. Once she had calmed down a little, she stood and finally looked at the three people nearby. Thank you. All of you. Did you find her? We helped, Gobby said. He spotted you first, German added, nodding toward Number One. The woman turned to him and went silent for a second. Gobby immediately looked at German.

The woman tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Then thank you. Especially you. You really don’t have to. I can’t thank you enough. You don’t need to. Maybe at least let me buy you coffee? There’s a good place right nearby. Thank you, but no. It would only take a few minutes. The girl, still holding her mother’s hand, looked up at her. Mom. What? You already thanked him three times. The woman froze. I’m just trying to be polite. The girl looked at Number One, then back at her mother. Is coffee polite too? Gobby abruptly lowered his head. German turned away. The woman blushed. Yes. Sometimes. The girl thought a little longer. Then why do you keep fixing your hair? The woman went completely still. Gobby finally snorted. German closed his eyes. Sweetheart… What? Nothing. The girl shrugged and looked back at Number One. Gobby leaned toward German. Five-zero. I heard you. And? German looked at the woman, who was now making a determined effort not to look at Number One. We can stop the study. Because I’m right? Because the pattern is now obvious. So because I’m right. German said nothing.

Gobby remembered the bakery and pointed ahead. We were actually going for Empanadas de Pino. The girl immediately perked up. We were going there too! Her mother looked at her. That is exactly where you got lost. I didn’t get lost. I looked the other way. A very long way the other way. The bakery was only a few dozen meters away, so they continued together. Gobby walked ahead, telling Number One that he was finally about to try real food. German attempted several times to remind him that Empanadas de Pino were a specific kind of pastry, not a name for everything made of dough with filling, but Gobby ignored him. The girl walked beside Number One and periodically looked up at him. Her mother walked on the other side and was now making a heroic effort not to look at him at all.

When they entered the bakery, the owner spotted Gobby first and broke into a wide smile. Finally! My shop is honored once again! I’m back. I can see that. And I’m warning you right now, after disappearing for this long, you’re not getting away with one serving. He came out from behind the counter, shook Gobby’s hand, looked him over, and immediately frowned. Where’s the rest of Gobby? Why is everyone doing this today… No, seriously. Who ruined you? I was training. The baker shook his head. Terrible people. Gobby looked at Number One. He showed no reaction. The baker greeted German, then noticed the woman, the girl, and Number One standing beside them. He smiled warmly at the child. Well, the important thing is you’re back with Mom and Dad. No, Number One said immediately. The girl shook her head vigorously too. He’s not my dad. Mom only met him just now. The woman closed her eyes. The baker blinked. Ah. And she already invited him for coffee, the girl added. The woman’s cheeks turned bright red. Gobby bit his lip. German became intensely interested in the display case. The baker looked at the woman, then at Number One, then back at the girl, and wisely decided that he did not need any further information. Right. Empanadas de Pino. Exactly! Gobby immediately stepped toward the display. Finally, someone who understands what actually matters.

A few minutes later Gobby was holding a large bag, German had his own pastry, and Number One had also ended up with one, which Gobby immediately declared Empanadas de Pino. Before leaving, the woman thanked all three of them again, then thanked Number One separately, but under her daughter’s watchful gaze she limited herself to gratitude this time. The girl waved. Bye! Then she looked specifically at Number One. Bye, Mr. Donghua. Number One paused. Bye. Once the mother and daughter had gone, Gobby watched them for a few seconds, then turned to German. Well? What? Intuition. German closed his eyes. Fine. Intuition. Gobby nodded with satisfaction. Five-zero. This is still not a competition. Too late. You already surrendered.

They left the bakery and headed toward the edge of the market. Gobby immediately pulled out one of the pastries and bit off nearly a third of it. German was explaining that the amount of filling was not an objective measure of quality, while Gobby, speaking with his mouth full, argued the opposite. Number One walked beside them with the wrapped caramel apple and the box of strawberries when Henry appeared ahead in the stream of people. Number One saw him immediately. Henry was walking toward them at an ordinary pace, neither slowing down nor changing expression. Gobby did not notice him. German did not either. When only a few meters separated them, Henry’s gaze shifted almost imperceptibly. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second. Neither man stopped. Henry passed them and disappeared into the crowd. Number One tracked him from the corner of his eye for another second, then looked forward again. Gobby was still arguing with German about the filling. Number One walked beside them. But the easy day was over.