Jane, Actually Page 8

  1 A rough pencil and watercolour portrait of Jane Austen by her sister Cassandra is the only known likeness of the author

  2 American journalist and caustic wit HL Mencken described Puritanism thusly: “The haunting fear that someone, somewhere, may be happy.”

  3 The story-telling host of A Prairie Home Companion and author of Lake Wobegon Days

  4 Shaquille Rashaun O’Neal, a player for the National Basketball Association

  5 Portrayed by Lucy Lawless in the television series that ran from 1995 to 2001. The titular character was said to be six feet tall.

  6 From Yiddish, a talentless, unattractive, or boorish person

  7 The offices of Random House, Jane’s publisher

  Planning for the future

  Melody faces the changes in her life

  Melody pondered the cities in the upcoming tour. In her office, she’d put up a large map of the US with little pushpins for each city and was even tempted to connect them with bits of string. The logistics of the whole affair was starting to overwhelm her and she knew she needed someone to help with the burden. Her former assistant had moved to the West Coast last year, ostensibly to open her own agency, but Rebecca had really left because her fiancé had taken a job there.

  Rebecca’s departure left Melody with no one except her ancient receptionist. Lillian only worked mornings answering the phone and occasionally ran errands and was all but retired. Melody kept her on for the pretence of being more than a one-person company and because Lillian actually knew the business.

  Intellectually Melody knew that her world had changed with Jane’s contract. She would either have to make Jane her only client and transition from literary agent to manager/personal representative, or she would actually need to hire associates who could handle her other clients. She glanced at the stack of unsolicited résumés from eager, young literary agents and at the enormous bags of query letters she’d received since the announcement of Jane’s contract.

  She looked around her cramped office, still looking almost exactly as Janet Appelbaum had left it. The walls were filled with book covers, awards and photographs, plus the detritus of personal belongings Melody had introduced over the years to make the place cozy. Lillian had also contributed with her photos of other people’s cats.

  I will hate to give this place up, but it’s too small for Jane Austen MediaCorp or whatever. Oh God, I’m getting gloomy!

  She turned her attention back to the map and the tour. She could definitely meet Jane in Seattle, where there was a particularly enthusiastic Janeite installed at a Barnes & Noble store. She’d been one of Jane’s earliest supporters, in fact, and should be able to arrange a good signing. And from there to Fort Worth for the AGM.

  She sighed and prayed that by Jane’s arrival in Fort Worth, a higher percentage of the Austen community would accept her. A recent poll at Jane Austen Today showed about 50% accepted Jane as Jane. It was hardly a scientific poll, however, and could easily be swayed by Jane’s supporters and detractors. And it wouldn’t take much to sway opinion one way or another, she knew. If Jane should say something injudicious … the thought sent a cold shiver down her back. She thought of Henry Austen’s treacly words about his late sister in his Biographical Notice that prefaced the posthumous publication of Persuasion and Northanger Abbey. It gave little indication that Jane could vent with the best, although Melody did have to allow that Jane’s long afterlife might have sharpened her tongue.

  I need something that will help the public identify with Jane, although that means I run the risk of making the public identify with her avatar as well.

  The thought of the avatar becoming the public face of Jane had always worried Melody, because she understood her responsibility to Jane’s legacy. Jane had already been famous for two hundred years and she might be famous for countless more. And who knew how many avatars might be needed over that time. It was important that Jane had an identity independent of the current avatar.

  Melody suddenly worried what would happen if she died. Who would take care of Jane?

  Stupid, that would be me. I might still be her agent even after I die. I might need to take someone on … Oh God!

  The image of her disembodied self working with Jane through a succession of avatars over centuries made her stomach churn.

  Is that what it’s like to be Jane? No wonder the disembodied go crazy. Got to think of something else. Go back to the problem of how to make the public sympathize with Jane and not just her avatar. I need something to make people believe in Jane.

  Those last words conjured the image of an ‘I believe in Jane” button, the words superimposed on Cassandra’s watercolour.

  No, not the watercolour. Jane’s too old in that. We should commission a new portrait that represents Jane in her prime.

  She and Alan had talked about a new portrait before they’d made their decision to hire an avatar and the idea had been lost in their worry about Jane objecting to the idea. But Melody decided it was long past time that Jane had an official portrait. She made a note to ask Mr Pembroke to suggest an artist who would be up to the task.

  Of more pressing concern was the choice of Jane’s avatar. She had been concerned by some of Jane’s preferences, including mousy Miss Crawford and the Xena look-a-like. She would have to ensure the latter preference never became known and reflected that yet again some foible of Jane’s character would end up redacted.

  From 23 candidates, three finalists had emerged. There was Miranda Prentiss, the bookish stammerer who seemed to know Jane’s life better than Jane; Linda Holland, a museum docent by day and stand-up comedian at night; and Mary Crawford.

  Melody had run a background check on Miss Crawford, not trusting the authenticity of her name, but in fact she was born Mary Crawford in Ohio to an elderly father and his comparatively younger second wife.

  Mary had a half-brother, Nathan, and a half-sister, Barbara. She seemed to have few accomplishments, other than her ill-conceived notion of moving to New York City to study to be an actress; an admittedly pleasant singing voice, which Melody assumed was lost on Jane anyway; and very high marks for her ability to use an AfterNet terminal.

  Not only did Melody find the coincidence of Mary Crawford’s name suspicious—although it was hardly an unusual name—she was also annoyed that someone with no knowledge of the famous author should have been a finalist. True, Ms Holland did not profess a deep understanding of Austen, but Melody thought Holland’s improvisational skills and museum experience made her quite attractive. Melody hoped to promote Holland at the next round of interviews.

  Finalists

  Jane and the finalists begin training

  “Now Miss Austen, I’ll need you to relax. These new terminals require precise calibration.” Jane glanced nervously at Melody, who kept nodding her reassurance. Even though it was still easy to see her friend, the mesh ball that enclosed her essence still felt very confining. She watched the white-coated technician fiddle with complicated electronic equipment before he said, “I have to warn you that you’ll experience some sensations, both good and bad, but it will last only five seconds. In three, two, one …”

  Sensations, that would be novelty indeed. I haven’t felt anything since …

  Suddenly Jane felt a whirl of emotions and feelings and most unexpectedly a flood of sense memories, the smell of hay, rain, the feel of muslin, the pain of a stinging nettle, the memory of her parents telling her of their remove to Bath, the rustling sound of the pages of the first printed copy of Sense and Sensibility she had ever held, the death of her father …

  And then it was over, but not before she uttered a phrase that from the look on her friend’s face had been transmitted through the AfterNet field.

  “Jane!” Melody said. “Where did that come from?”

  She could almost feel the flush that came to her so easily when alive. To cover her embarrassment, she said, “Two of my brothers were sailors,” she said, which hardly excused or explained her words.<
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  Melody laughed and responded. “And two of them were clergymen!”

  The technician appeared undisturbed by the outburst; obviously he had heard similar exclamations.

  “Do the … must the avatars endure this as well?”

  The technician answered her without taking his eyes off his equipment. “What? Oh, well they did it when they first applied, although the experience isn’t as intense for the living.” Then he turned back to her and opened the metal mesh ball and she escaped.

  “But excuse me, why is all this necessary?” Jane asked. “I did not have to endure all this when I first communicated through an AfterNet terminal.”

  The man sighed and said, “You know they’re supposed to explain this before you come down here for calibration.” He fixed his gaze on Jane, which was either impressive intuition or a stroke of luck, and continued. “An avatar’s terminal is a lot more advanced than a regular terminal and provides more information than just your voice in their ear. It can pick up your emotional state and adjust the speech synthesis to reflect that. It also gives clues to the wearer as to your position, so you don’t have to tell him …”—he looked at his clipboard—”… or her to turn left or walk straight ahead. They’ll follow you around. You can also program the terminal as well. Honestly, they’re supposed to tell you this but they never do. OK, Ms Austen, you’re done here. If you and your friend will just wait outside, someone will be by to take you to the training course.”

  Melody and Jane left the room, both of them feeling a little overwhelmed at the brusque treatment from the technician.

  “I’m sorry Jane, he shouldn’t have treated you like that.”

  “No, no don’t worry Melody. It’s … actually refreshing to be reminded just what I’m about to … the implication of it … I’m sorry, I am not normally so discombobulated. Perhaps it was his mention of a training course. Whatever could that mean?”

  Jane and Melody were soon to find out after a rail-thin, young woman, dressed in black slacks and silk black top, led them down the hallway and through double doors into a large room resembling, in a minimalist sort of way, a television studio. There was a raised platform or stage with three chairs presumably intended for an interviewer and two guests, with very bright lights shining on the stage. There was even a television camera mounted on wheels trained on the stage. They found Mr Pembroke, the saleswoman from the avatar agency whose name Jane could not remember and one of the candidates, the stammerer, Ms Prentiss. Jane also saw two others, a man and woman, standing further back in the shadows.

  “Ms Austen, so good to see you again,” the saleswoman said.

  “Miss Austen says hello, Ms Parker.” Melody said for her friend, “and asks if you would please call her Jane. And she also says hello to you, Alan and Miranda.”

  “Then please call me Sharon,” the saleswoman said, “which you will be able to do more directly in a moment once we … oh, here we are.”

  She stopped as the technician from the calibration room arrived. She nodded to him.

  “Who’s this go on?” he asked abruptly.

  “I think that would be me,” Ms Prentiss said, stepping forward. “Good morning Miss Austen, Ms Kramer.”

  The technician approached Ms Prentiss, but stopped and again with uncanny accuracy looked directly at Jane and asked, “Are you right handed?”

  It was a question that surprised Jane, it not having been an issue for almost two hundred years, but she answered in the affirmative, which Melody communicated. He then put an armband holding a portable terminal around Ms Prentiss’ left arm and gave her two small wireless earbuds, which Ms Prentiss inserted. With her right hand she then activated the device on her left arm and after a few seconds walked to Jane’s immediate right.

  “Hello, Jane, with your permission, I’m ready to act as your avatar.” Ms Prentiss’s voice almost seemed to sound in Jane’s mind; the AfterNet field of the terminal was so strong and pure that it washed out the field of the less sophisticated terminal Melody wore.

  “Yes please … go ahead,” Jane said.

  “Actually, it’s the other way round. Once you give permission, I act on your behalf. You have only to think what you want to say and I will say it for you. You only have to move and I will follow. At first I’ll have to edit you to prevent my saying what I think are your private thoughts. I would suggest you asking your friend to turn off her terminal, but you’ll have to speak that thought. Are you ready?”

  It was then that Jane realized their conversation was silent. Ms Prentiss did not speak out loud for her terminal to interpret, but instead could project her thoughts directly into the AfterNet field where it was relayed to Jane. This was her first experience of a living person talking directly to her.

  The surprise of it slightly delayed Jane’s answer. She regained her composure, however, and said, “Melody, would you please turn off your terminal?”

  Jane found that the terminal interpreted her thoughts almost as easily as if she were speaking out loud. She hoped her casual thoughts would not be captured by the terminal as well, and then panicked when she thought that thought had just been captured. But a quick glance at the transcript reassured her.

  Ms Prentiss spoke those words aloud a mere fraction of a second after Jane said them. Melody raised an eyebrow at the experience of Ms Prentiss, affecting an English accent, speaking for Jane. The technician, having observed Ms Prentiss closely, nodded to her and left the room.

  “I believe we’re ready to get started,” Ms Parker said after stepping forward. She turned to look at Ms Prentiss but addressed her as Jane: “Miss Austen, we’ll begin with a mock interview to see how you and Ms Prentiss interact. If you’ll follow me onto the stage.”

  To the others, it appeared that Ms Prentiss hesitated, but in reality it was Jane who was momentarily confused by the experience of the saleswoman addressing Ms Prentiss as herself. After a second’s pause, however, Jane rallied and said, “Of course, Sharon,” which her avatar relayed. She then moved to the stage and her avatar dutifully followed. Ms Parker took the seat at stage right, while Ms Prentiss sat in the middle chair. Jane, suddenly understanding, sat in the chair at stage left.

  The man and woman who had been in the shadows came forward. The man went behind the camera and the woman came on stage to put lapel microphones on the two seated women. Jane watched this and marvelled at the efficiency of it all. It was obvious also that Ms Parker and Ms Prentiss were well prepared for this and Jane also noticed that they wore heavier makeup than fashionable, presumably because of the filming.

  After the woman stagehand left and the two women seated themselves comfortably, Ms Parker told the cameraman to begin filming.

  After a slight wait, the cameraman began counting down with his fingers and then pointed at Ms Parker. At the same time, Jane noticed a red light appear on the camera, which Ms Parker addressed.

  “We’re here today with Jane Austen, the author of those classics you remember from high school, like Pride and Prejudice and Emma, and which have been made countless times as movies here and abroad. After an almost two hundred year absence from the new releases category, she’s back with her latest novel, Sanditon.” She then turned to Ms Prentiss and asked. “What’s it like, Miss Austen, to find yourself competing in the modern world of publishing?”

  Jane froze. The novelty of the situation left her bewildered. She realized now that the avatar agency had intentionally given her little instruction to see how she would cope, which raised her ire. She was about to complain about her treatment, when she found Ms Prentiss saying: “Thank you very much for asking me on your show, Ms Parker. As I’m sure you understand, this is a novel experience for me.”

  She’s starting without me, Jane thought, and then realized that thought was probably communicated to her avatar.

  “You’d better think of something to say,” Ms Prentiss silently said to Jane. “I can only stall so long.”

  What was the question? Jane quickly looke
d back through the transcript of the conversation, and thought loudly of a reply.

  The others in the studio might have seen Ms Prentiss wince ever so slightly, but she relayed Jane’s reply after only a slight pause.

  “Now as to your question, that’s very interesting because I truthfully had not imagined myself in competition with anyone, other than perhaps myself … my reputation that is.”

  There, that’s a clever response. I have led her to a path I am more comfortable following. Jane again worried her fleeting thought might have been transmitted to Ms Prentiss but a quick look at the transcript showed that it remained unsaid.

  “You mean that you’re worried whether the critical response to your book will match that of your other six novels? Or that you’re worried that not everyone has embraced the idea that you are in fact the real Jane Austen?”

  Jane was bothered at the impertinence of the latter question and chose to address the first. The thought of the easy solution encouraged her.

  “Why I am worried about the critical response, of course. When I wrote my first six novels, it was obviously a much simpler world. Even the most vitriolic critic had to put pen to paper and take that to a publisher where type would be set and a day or a week or month later that opinion would be printed. Now anyone can voice their opinion instantly, and yes I admit the thought frightens me, but not as much as the two centuries of silence I endured frightened me.”

  And so the interview continued, and in the questions posed by Ms Parker, Jane recognized the hands of her friend Melody and Mr Pembroke. They had obviously prepared questions designed to unnerve her and she felt a rising confidence as she found ways to avoid, deflect or rephrase questions. It was not unlike the etiquette of calming a quarrelsome relative or the deflecting the impertinence of an over ardent admirer. It was a skill to which she had grown unaccustomed, but which she found enjoyable to relearn.