Beschrijving

The Braphone ebook ePub English by Von Zeist, Translation by Dolly Von Zeist

Introduction

A Market Tale of Love, Nerve, and a Bra with Bluetooth

At precisely quarter past eight on Saturday morning, Milo van Dijk was standing at the market with twelve bras, three pairs of headphones, a roll of duct tape, and a plan that his mother had declared was either brilliant or illegal.

He didn’t yet know which.

The market had only just woken up. A fishmonger tipped ice into a crate. Further along, someone was straightening stacks of orange boxes. The smell of fresh bread mingled with wet paving stones and fried onions.

Milo tugged at the awning over his stall.

It immediately sagged down on one side.

“Stay calm,” he told himself. “A good invention won’t be defeated by a little gravity.”

He reached for the duct tape.

Above his stall hung a bright pink banner. The letters were large, shiny, and printed slightly too close together.

**THE BRAPHONE**

**LISTEN & LIFT**

Milo stepped back and looked at it proudly.

It was beautiful.

Well, at the very least, it was impossible to miss.

Beside him came a deep sigh.

“Your banner is leaning to the left,” said a woman’s voice.

Milo turned around.

At the stall next to his stood a woman with dark hair in a loose bun. She wore a green coat, a woollen scarf, and the expression of someone who had already processed three disappointments before nine in the morning.

She was arranging glass jars on wooden shelves.

Each jar had a simple label.

**COFFEE BEFORE I BECOME HUMAN.**

Milo nodded towards the banner.

“That’s artistic tension.”

“That’s duct tape giving up.”

She pointed at his stall. Bras in black, white, red, and one leopard-print number lay on the table. Beside each bra was a small card explaining its technical features.

**WIRELESS SOUND.**

**SOFT FIT.**

**BATTERY LIFE UP TO SIX HOURS.**

**DO NOT WASH ABOVE FORTY DEGREES.**

Milo grinned broadly.

“Good morning. Milo. Inventor.”

The woman looked at a black bra with a small silver button on the side.

“Of what, exactly?”

“The Braphone.”

“I’d sort of gathered that.”

“It’s a bra with built-in headphones.”

She was silent for a moment.

Not long. But long enough.

“A bra,” she repeated.

“With Bluetooth.”

“I heard that.”

“You can make calls with it. Listen to music. Follow podcasts. Do breathing exercises. Anything you like, without having to dig around in your bag for your earbuds.”

The woman looked at the bra again. Then at Milo. Then at the banner, which had slipped another inch to the left.

“And why would anyone want that?”

Milo opened his mouth.

That was a good question. Not because he didn’t have an answer. He had lots of answers. He had an eighteen-minute presentation. He had a brochure with graphs. He even had a list of possible uses for people who enjoyed listening while gardening, walking, cleaning, or avoiding irritating relatives.

But suddenly, everything he wanted to say sounded a little less convincing.

So he went with the truth.

“Because it can be done.”

The woman looked at him.

Then she laughed.

Not loudly. And not cruelly. More as though she had promised herself she would take this Saturday seriously, and was already regretting it.

“Good reason,” she said.

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t mean it as a compliment.”

“I hear that a lot. I still accept it.”

She shook her head and turned back to her jars.

Milo noticed that she sold scented candles. Not ordinary scented candles, as it turned out. Her labels were far too honest for ordinary scented candles.

**SUNDAY RAIN, BUT YOU DON’T HAVE TO GO ANYWHERE.**

**MY EX HAS A NEW BIKE.**

**FAMILY VISIT, MAXIMUM TWO HOURS.**

**I’M NOT ANGRY. I’M DISAPPOINTED.**

“That one’s strong,” Milo said, pointing at the last jar.

“It’s my bestseller.”

“What’s in it?”

“Vanilla, sandalwood, and suppressed irritation.”

Milo nodded appreciatively.

“At last, someone else who understands technology.”

“Scented candles aren’t technology.”

“Everything is technology. Even a scented candle. It’s just that your product burns out more slowly than mine.”

Now she did look at him.

“That doesn’t sound like very reassuring sales copy.”

“My batteries are replaceable.”

“Well, that saves it.”

The first customers began drifting into the market. People carrying shopping bags. People walking dogs. People who had overslept and were pretending it had been a conscious decision.

Milo felt his heart beat faster.

This was the moment.

He picked up a Braphone from the table. It was his newest model. Black fabric. Soft straps. Tiny speakers neatly concealed in the cups. On the inside was a light that flashed blue when the connection was working.

He had spent weeks on it.

Maybe months.

If he was honest: far too long.

“Would you like to try it?” he asked his neighbour.

She looked at the thing in his hands.

“No.”

“Just for listening. You don’t have to put it on.”

“That’s a relief. We’ve only known each other for four minutes, after all.”

Milo pressed the button.

A voice suddenly boomed across the market.

“**CONNECTED TO MILO’S PHONE.**”

The fishmonger looked up.

A dog started barking.

And from the Braphone, at full volume, came a cheerful nineties hit Milo had been listening to the night before while soldering.

His neighbour closed her eyes.

“Listen & Lift,” she said dryly. “So far, I’m mostly hearing alarming life choices.”

Milo hurriedly pressed every button at once. The music stopped. The blue light blinked in panic.

He looked at her.

“The prototype is still sensitive.”

“Aren’t we all?”

For the first time that morning, Milo didn’t immediately know what to say.

The woman picked up a candle from her stall and held it out to him.

The label read:

**A FRESH START, WITH SOME DOUBT.**

“I’m Lena,” she said.

Milo took the candle.

“That’s a lovely name.”

“Thank you. I already had it.”

He laughed.

And so did Lena, just for a moment.

Above them, the banner came loose on the right-hand side. It twisted crookedly in the wind, as though even the letters were struggling with the name.

**THE BRAPHONE.**

Milo looked up.

Lena looked too.

And neither of them knew then that this clumsy little stall, this far-too-loud bra, and this one Saturday at the market were about to turn their lives completely upside down.