When he told his family about the site on the Internet where you could create whole streets, his wife and son went on eating pasta and artichokes (edible flower buds). Only his daughter Greta looked up. He said he could buy a house on Pomanger Street. He could put as many rooms in it as he wanted and fill them with fruit. He could also make his own library.
His son, who was eleven, agreed with him. His son knew how to programme computers. But he was not interested. He wanted to give away his books and devote his life to karate.
His wife ate the heart of the artichoke carefully. He wanted to know her opinion. She said that she was in front of the computer the whole day and she wanted to spend the evenings in the garden. He knew that she was not interested.
Greta looked up from her artichoke leaves. She was arranging them in a circular pattern in her bowl. She said: “You said that there were streets. You said there could be fruit.” Greta often repeated what she heard. She had worked hard to tie her shoes by age ten and could read at fifth grade level, five grades below Joel, even though she was sixteen. She went to a special school. She said she wanted to see the place. Her father said he would show her. His wife and his son made eyes indicating their displeasure. They thought: “He is at it again. He’s getting Greta into it, too.”
He said he would show her where she can make up streets and bowls of fruit. Greta sat in his chair and he sat next to her. Greta could type very slowly. By the time she left her school, she might be able to type fast enough to get a word processing job. But nobody was certain.
The man said that there was this guy named Sam who set up that whole library of classics. He lived in Illinois, but he made this wonderful place. He wanted her to watch. He clicked into the programme and was about to show Greta the collection of books when he saw her staring into space. He asked her if she wanted something of her own.
She said she wanted peaches and pears and artichokes. He asked her if she wanted them with bowls in a kitchen of a house or in a garden. He was typing, creating a street called Greta’s Street, a house called Greta’s house. Greta wanted to know why he was writing all that down. He said he was writing them down because they all were hers. Greta looked at the screen. Her blond hair blended with her sweater. Her blue eyes were the only colour in her face.
She said she wanted a bowl in every room. She wanted peaches in the kitchen and living room and all the bedrooms. He asked her if she did not want artichokes. Greta picked at her sweater. This is something she did when she knew she had got it right. She had forgotten about the artichokes and he was sorry that he had reminded her. He said he would put peaches everywhere. He wanted to know if the bowls should be of the same colour. She said they all should be blue colour. He then asked her how many windows she wanted and whether there should be a fireplace and if there should be curtains. Greta wanted 11 windows covered with sheer white curtains as the ones she had in her bedroom.
He said he would start with the fruit in the kitchen. He wrote Greta’s kitchen and asked her to walk around and take fruits from the bowl and eat them. She asked where the peaches were. He said they would come in a minute. She should click under bowl and see what happens. He covered the screen for a moment and wrote peaches. He asked to try it by clicking bowl. Greta clicked bowl and the word peaches appeared. She told him that it was just a word. He said that was the idea and she can see a picture of the fruit.
She said she thought she would make real peaches. He said she had to go to the store to get them. She said here she just saw only words and wanted to know why people liked them. He said that they reminded people of the things the words stand for as she saw in her books.
He created other rooms as wanted by Greta: a kitchen, a dining room, a living room, a bedroom, a room for a cat and one bathroom. Then she said there was no need for a bathroom as it is not a real house and so people would not use it. He agreed. He programmed bowls of peaches in every room. He asked Greta to click.
Greta clicked and smiled when the word peaches appeared. It was a shifty smile – the smile she got when she pretended to have understood something which made no sense to her. He said there could be other fruit like apples, and pears and there could be flowers. Greta agreed and said there could be anything.
His wife was cutting blackberries in the garden. Greta was getting up from her chair to help her. Greta would never have a house of her own. She would live in a group house with other people like her. He hoped the house would be large and have sheer white curtains in all the rooms. He hoped it would have an orchard with fruit in real blue bowls: apples, pears, peaches whatever Greta wanted.
