High-Rise Page #2

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There will be five towers

in all, encircling the lake.

Something like an open hand.

The lake is the palm and we

stand on the distal phalanx

of the index finger.

There.

I've put all my energies

into this tower.

I'm its midwife, so to speak.

Laing:
Mm.

It looks like

the unconscious diagram

of some kind of psychic event.

That's good. Can I use that?

By all means.

Of course, I'm a modernist

by trade but you, a doctor,

will understand

one prescribes as required.

That folly out there

is for my wife.

Royal:
Her chief distraction

is the careful cultivation

of an intense sort of nostalgia.

For what?

Why delve?

Royal:
My car was crushed

by a reversing cement truck.

Laing:
I'm afraid I'm not

a physiotherapist.

Royal:
I know what you are,

Doctor Laing.

Constant exercise

is the only thing

that keeps the pain at bay.

So you could say not only

am I the building's first

road casualty, but I am the

architect of my own accident.

What do you think of that?

- Is that a horse?

- Probably.

My wife rides.

On the 40th floor?

Royal:
This is Simmons,

one of my go-betweens.

Laing:
Yes,

...we met.

Royal:
Squash.

Friday, six a.m. Hmm?

- Laing:
Why not.

- Royal:
Hmm. Good.

Royal:
Oh, Laing?

My wife's giving a "thing"

the day after tomorrow.

Full of the sort of people

you should know

if you're to get the measure

of the place.

Laing:
Thank you.

Ann:
Why is there never a damn

switch for what I need?

I hope you're here to fix this.

I'm sorry?

I, um...

I thought this was in a museum.

Well, you were wrong,

weren't you?

F***ing hell.

Here, let me try.

Sorry about that.

It's inoperable, I'm afraid.

Simmons:

Doctor, this way.

Excuse me.

Charlotte:
Royal likes you.

It's unusual.

Do you know, he hasn't left his

penthouse since the accident.

Laing:

You seem to know everyone.

Charlotte:
But everyone thinks

they know me.

That's the trick.

There's a rigid

social hierarchy here,

whether Royal likes it or not.

Can you write me a script

for sleeping pills?

No.

Then tell me how

your sister died.

How do you know that?

Walls have ears.

I suppose I look like her.

You don't have to

tell me anything.

I only really want

to talk about myself.

There's a brothel

somewhere in the building.

I can find out for you

if you'd like.

- Toby:
Charlotte?

- Darling?

Charlotte?

Charlotte:
Hi.

This is Toby, my son.

- Hi.

- Where's Laura?

Laura:
Sorry.

Just warming the milk.

- Doesn't matter, I'm going out.

- I don't need a babysitter.

What you need is to go to sleep

or you'll be tired for school

in the morning.

I don't want to go to school.

Of course you don't

want to go to school,

but we all have to do things

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