Also known as: Factore, with an “e” at the end. F’actor (his sensei’s pronunciation). Van D.’s bodyguard
Occupation: Bodyguard. He looks as though he had been assembled for the express purpose of preventing people from leaving rooms.
First appears: Chapter 006
Status: Two steps behind Van D. Motionless.
Usually seen with: Van D., two steps ahead. Arms like two vascularized baobabs, standing permanently away from his trunk.
His philosophy of life, as far as I could reconstruct it
Factore’s philosophy was formed at fourteen, by Jean-Claude Van Damme in Kickboxer. He dropped out of school, threw a couple of clothes on his back, borrowed three hundred dollars and left for Thailand. Three years of Muay Thai, then a dojo in Japan. When his sensei asked him why he wanted to practice martial arts, he said he wanted to be an actor like Van Damme. The sensei did not know Romanian, so all he understood was “actor”, which he pronounced “F’actor”. The “e” came later: when you strike, you shout, to release the energy. Factore believes that a name, like a blow, should be shouted. It is a coherent position.
What I think he thinks of me
Difficult to say. The first time we met, he sized me up with his head half turned toward me, probably trying to decide whether I deserved an answer. I asked him not to speak for five minutes. He planted himself on his feet, cracked his neck left, right, left, and stayed motionless, staring at me, until I had finished. He has been doing more or less the same thing ever since. Once, when Van D. ran out of words to describe himself, he turned to Factore, and Factore supplied one: tough. Factore is, as far as I can tell, Van D.’s dictionary. I have not yet appeared in it.
What I think of him
His shoulders rise to his earlobes. His head is mounted directly on his chest, between biceps the size of two newborns. When he walks, his legs rub together with the force of tectonic plates. I have wondered whether Bucharest has an institute that trains people like this: extrudes them into predefined shapes, excises everything between the ears and, at the end, expands them. And yet he is the only man I know who has been touched by the sublime of the Romanian language. When I suggested that his name was abstract, he agreed with genuine joy. I have never seen him run. I therefore know nothing about his ability to pursue those who succeed in leaving. I have no intention of finding out.
Things he said, at a volume the building was not designed for
“My master chose it for me!”
“Sensei Okada Yasuhiko!”
“Almost Romanian.”
“You know Jean-Claude Van Damme?”
“Isn’t he something? The way he beats you up, nobody beats you up like that!”
“Abstract! Yes! It’s more abstract!”
“When you strike, to release the energy, you shout. Factor—èèè! Factor—èèèèèè! It’s like a blow.”
“Tough. Yes. Tough!”
“FactorÈÈÈÈÈÈ!”
Andrei’s footnote: Until that afternoon I had not known that the offices of Casa Presei have an echo. Now the whole building knows.
