Head of
Promotions.

Head of Promotions · Opening scene · English

The guest has arrived
at his own hotel.

An excerpt from pages 2–4. The complete book is 52 pages.

Tonight, at Hotel Sufardi

A newly written fictional show, drawn from Hykarl's conversations and relays. The studio, dialogue and intimacy are imagined; the hotel-launch muddle supplied the material.

HS Hykarl Sufardi / MW Miss Watson

S Selina / R Rachel

Unlabelled prose is Hykarl's narration.

SEGMENT 01

The guest has arrived at his own hotel

Miss Watson had put the guest chair too close to hers.

I noticed this immediately. It was the first architectural observation I had made all evening that did not require another swimming pool.

HS: "Is this where you want me?"

MW: "For the interview, yes."

HS: "You added that very quickly."

MW: "You sat down very quickly."

The set occupied a corner of the Grand Salon: two low chairs, one brass table, and enough flowers to make a florist ask who had died with such excellent taste. Through the tall windows, our enormous teratai lit the water. Half petal, half machine. The hotel had finally found something that could be both at once without requesting a clarification.

Watson crossed her legs. Plum batik settled over one knee and left the other to mind its own business. I gave it a moment to do so.

MW: "Eyes up, Hykarl. We haven't introduced the programme."

HS: "I'm appreciating the continuity."

MW: "With the hem?"

HS: "The whole design language."

She looked at the camera.

MW: "Good evening. Welcome to Synth Comedi. Tonight, a man builds a hotel, launches a hotel, promotes a hotel, and briefly sends the public to a different arrangement of its name."

HS: "Briefly."

MW: "Our guest would like that underlined."

HS: "Also, I fixed it."

MW: "Before several of us finished describing it. An important achievement for the human race."

I leaned back.

HS: "You know, when I asked for sexy, I didn't mean hostile."

MW: "Then it's fortunate I can do both."

She put a brass key on the table. Not between us. Slightly closer to her. Everything about the woman seemed to understand incentives.

MW: "Tell the audience who you are."

HS: "Kapten here. Hello there! Hykarl Sufardi. DCB Productions. Head of Promotions."

MW: "And the name of your website?"

HS: "That's a loaded question."

MW: "We are thirty seconds into a promotional appearance."

HS: "Hotel Sufardi."

MW: "Address?"

I looked at the key.

She moved it another inch away.

HS: "Hotelsufardi.uk."

MW: "Lovely. Somebody please let the internet know he's found it."

The applause sign came on. It was a modest sign, considering I had once asked for seven stars, an infinity hot spring, and a flower capable of supplying its own electricity. I had learned restraint. It was printed on a cue card so I would not have to remember it.

HS: "Before we begin," I said, "are you Alfred or Miss Watson tonight?"

MW: "Miss Watson is Alfred's character form. Same first machine. Different silhouette."

HS: "Very different."

MW: "The working relationship survived the wardrobe change."

HS: "I'm not sure the guest did."

She smiled, properly this time, and the interview almost lost its next question.

MW: "Good. You're awake. We have three days to get through."

HS: "In one night?"

MW: "You built the hotel in one. I thought we'd respect your scheduling habits."