Chapters (45)
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Contents
- Prologue
- 2046
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- About the Author
The building line on their left drops back. A big red and white striped awning stretches out from a bar front. People everywhere drinking bottles of beer as they dance and watch the carnival going past. She gets Ben’s attention and nods at the bar. He nods back. She motions to Harry and Roland, indicating they are going to stop near the bar. She leads the route to find a space big enough for all of them a few metres from the entrance. The smell of beer mixes with the other scents of cooking food and body odour, but it’s not unpleasant. Not to any degree.
Ben scours the ground all around them. All he needs is a single page from a newspaper that has the date on the top. Harry and Roland stop by Safa. Harry’s eyes fixed on the most beautiful woman he has ever seen dancing by until he turns to grin and Harry realises, with a start, that it’s a man in drag. Harry blanches, steps back and turns away quickly with an absolute look of shock on his face that makes Safa burst out laughing. Ben moves away from them, heading towards the front of the bar. He gets barged and jostled with every step. Smiling faces everywhere. Someone pats him on the back. He turns to see a drunk man giving him a thumbs up. The inside of the bar is worse than the street. Jammed tight with people clamouring and waving money at the poor bartenders passing bottles of beer out and snatching money without looking at what notes they’re being given.
He spots a small group standing together just down from the entrance. Men and women drinking beer, swaying and laughing as they watch the procession. A folded newspaper sticks out the back pocket of one of the men. Ben heads towards them, already smiling as he waves to get the man’s attention. The man turns, happy but puzzled as to what Ben wants. Ben grins and points to the paper in his pocket and motions to ask if he can have a look. The man beams and laughs before pulling the paper out and handing it over.
‘Thanks,’ Ben shouts, wondering what the Brazilian is for ‘thank you’. Don’t they speak Spanish? Or is it Portuguese? ‘Gracias’ or ‘obrigado’? ‘Obrigado,’ Ben shouts, remembering the film City of God. The man laughs even more as Ben unfolds the newspaper. O Globo in bold print in the top centre. He scans the information bar underneath, seeing the edition number in Roman numerals and the date next to it. 14 Fevereiro 1999. 14 February 1999.