Nine Perfect Strangers

Frances tried to put herself in Masha’s position. It came to her that Masha considered herself an artist and, like any artist, she craved praise. She simply wanted recognition, respect, five-star reviews, gratitude.

‘I think I speak for all of us when I say this has been an incredible experience,’ she began.

But she was interrupted by Tony.

‘Is that Yao behind you?’ He was on his feet, his eyes on the screen. ‘Is he alright?’

‘Yao is here, yes,’ said Masha.

She moved to one side of her computer screen and gestured graciously like a model on a game indicating the prize.

The prize was Yao.

He was slumped forward in Masha’s chair, asleep or unconscious on Masha’s desk, one cheek squashed flat, while his arms formed a semicircle around his head.

‘Is he breathing? What’s wrong with him?’ Heather also stood and moved to a position beneath the television screen. She dropped the fake acquiescent tone. ‘What has he taken? What have you given him?’

‘Is he alive?’ asked Frances in panic.

‘He is just napping,’ said Masha. ‘He is so tired. He has been up all night, working hard for you!’

She caressed Yao’s hair, and pointed at something they couldn’t see on his scalp.

‘That is Yao’s birthmark. I saw it during my near-death experience.’ She smiled back at the camera and Frances shivered. ‘That is when I came face to face with my own mortality in the most remarkable and wonderful way.’ Her eyes shone. ‘This evening, you too will face your mortality. Sadly, I can’t give you the privilege of looking death directly in the eyes, but I can give you a glance, a glimpse! An unforgettable glimpse that will . . .’ She searched for the right word and found it with obvious satisfaction. ‘That will amalgamate all of your experiences so far: the silence, the psychedelic therapy, the escape puzzle.’

‘He doesn’t look like he’s napping,’ said Heather. ‘Have you given him something?’

‘Ah, Heather,’ said Masha. ‘You are practically a doctor, aren’t you? But I can assure you, Yao is simply napping!’

‘Where is Delilah?’ asked Ben.

‘Delilah is no longer with us,’ said Masha.

‘What do you mean “no longer with us”?’ said Ben. ‘What does that mean?’

‘She has left us,’ said Masha airily.

‘Of her own accord?’ asked Frances.

She thought about the other Tranquillum House staff: the lovely smiley chef who brought out the food; Jan, with her miraculous healing hands. Where were they, while the guests were locked up and Yao lay unconscious on Masha’s desk?

‘I need you all to listen carefully,’ said Masha, ignoring Frances’s question about Delilah. She moved to the front of the camera again so that Yao’s body was concealed. ‘We are now going to play a fun icebreaker!’

‘I feel like the ice is well and truly broken, Masha,’ said Lars.

‘Buddha said that we must “radiate boundless love towards the entire world”, and that’s what this exercise is all about. It’s about love. It’s about passion. It’s about getting to know each other,’ said Masha. ‘I call it: “Death Sentence!”’

She looked at them expectantly, as if waiting for an enthusiastic eruption of questions and comments.

Nobody moved.

‘You like the name?’ said Masha, lowering her head and lifting her eyes in a way that could almost be considered flirtatious.

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‘I do not like the name,’ said Napoleon.

‘Ah, Napoleon, I like you. You are an honest man. Now, let me explain how this activity works,’ said Masha. ‘Imagine this: You have all of you been sentenced to death! You are on death row! Maybe that would have been a better name? Death Row.’ She frowned. ‘I think that is better. We will call it "Death Row".’