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‘I don’t mind working here alone, although it’s a quiet hour, I guess.’ he sighed 'Still, it is not the easiest way to earn money.’ his legs were aching ‘Can I get you anything?’
Being a capitalist I am sure should work, just letting that money make more money, and ever best if you have so much you can pay others to bother with the process. ‘Son’ he starts, ‘ the best thing in life is being loaded.’ he looks somewhat thoughtful for a moment while the boy eagerly nodding scratched his nose, perhaps hiding a smile from this eternally wise comment.
‘yes, yes’ he thought ‘you fucking bastard’ as the old one continues
‘It’s money that makes the world spin and spin around… Money!’ considering if he should add anything to this wisdom he presses ‘Money!’ again to make sure it has enough weight and again ‘Money-’ deep breath ‘Is the meaning of Life!’
But the boy couldn’t control himself anymore and burst into wild, slightly menacing laughter. ‘Your ass’ he said finally and walked off into the sunset leaving this idiotic boom-town somewhere on the face of this planet. ‘I need to get out of here’ he considered and tempted himself with imagining other places being on other globes. Much nicer ones for both but his flying thoughts have their wings trimmed quickly. A bullet hitting the ground kicks up some dust right at the spot he was about to put his right foot. The gunshot shattered the sunset and now angry birds circle above their heads. ‘Not so fast kid, not so fast!’
Thursday, 20 August 2009
Monday, 30 March 2009
Yacht
They have been walking from some unimaginable distance. ‘Hey I see it! It’s the car.’ But his desperate call echoed unanswered. His companion didn’t respond in any way. All she did was hanging in his hand motionless. They had too much to drink and although getting in the car seemed like a stupid idea, there had to be some way to get home or to the hospital. They called an ambulance at the bar, actually the bar tender did, he kindly took care of this difficult matter of picking up the phone and chain meaningful, intelligible sentences together to the operator on the other end. He was told to piss off and don’t ever bother them with people drinking themselves to death in his bar.
Things were like this recently. More and more people became obsessed with being drunk or high on a continuous loop while they received less and less care. He couldn’t find his keys. For about 2 months he was kind of used to it now. She started only tonight and he thought this may have been the problem. He forgot to tell her not to try keeping up with him.
It was difficult to look through his pockets holding her with both arms at first, after freeing one arm stepping a foot on the curb resting her waist on his raised thigh things seemed easier. Although standing in itself was a trick and the magic act, coordination complicated things. ‘I’m gonna put you down, ok?’
He didn’t manage so gently as intended and for a short second before remembering the keys he became concerned for her head. It released a suspicious knock when hitting the pavement. Still no sign of the key after searching all his pockets he turned to the unconscious women ‘Britney, Britney! Do you have the key?’
There was no answer. Searching all her pockets and finally remembering the bag he stood up hesitantly. He didn’t want to leave her here but really had no intention carrying her back and forth between car and bar. Maybe propping her up against the side of the car she would be fine for that couple of minutes. It was a troublesome exercise.
‘You looking for this pal?’
‘Yeah, thanks. I thought I lost it forever…’ he answered relieved.
‘How is your girlfriend?’ the question appeared to present concern but his tone told otherwise.
‘She gonna be fine!’ he mumbled and left overcoming a desire to have a shot of vodka before heading out again. The bar tender seemed to pity him. Fools’ he must have thought. But it wasn’t him losing his job. He may be amongst the very few in fact, who managed to keep it. Bankers, Politicians and Bar Tenders. By the time he made to the car he found the key. Getting her inside, and out again at home, through the door and into her bed he would knock her head or other parts into furniture or doorframes few more times but it wouldn’t became a source of complications.
She would have the hangover of her life going on for days. Alcohol poisoning does that. Fortunately, she won’t have to feel bad about calling in sick come Monday morning. There is no job to go to anymore. Schools can do with less teachers, no support stuff, even worst food. In fact, cities can do with fewer schools especially since constant food rioting in deprived areas torched everything. This is merely a natural succeeding development of the ‘Everyone’s got to pay’ policy. Yachts are expensive.
Things were like this recently. More and more people became obsessed with being drunk or high on a continuous loop while they received less and less care. He couldn’t find his keys. For about 2 months he was kind of used to it now. She started only tonight and he thought this may have been the problem. He forgot to tell her not to try keeping up with him.
It was difficult to look through his pockets holding her with both arms at first, after freeing one arm stepping a foot on the curb resting her waist on his raised thigh things seemed easier. Although standing in itself was a trick and the magic act, coordination complicated things. ‘I’m gonna put you down, ok?’
He didn’t manage so gently as intended and for a short second before remembering the keys he became concerned for her head. It released a suspicious knock when hitting the pavement. Still no sign of the key after searching all his pockets he turned to the unconscious women ‘Britney, Britney! Do you have the key?’
There was no answer. Searching all her pockets and finally remembering the bag he stood up hesitantly. He didn’t want to leave her here but really had no intention carrying her back and forth between car and bar. Maybe propping her up against the side of the car she would be fine for that couple of minutes. It was a troublesome exercise.
‘You looking for this pal?’
‘Yeah, thanks. I thought I lost it forever…’ he answered relieved.
‘How is your girlfriend?’ the question appeared to present concern but his tone told otherwise.
‘She gonna be fine!’ he mumbled and left overcoming a desire to have a shot of vodka before heading out again. The bar tender seemed to pity him. Fools’ he must have thought. But it wasn’t him losing his job. He may be amongst the very few in fact, who managed to keep it. Bankers, Politicians and Bar Tenders. By the time he made to the car he found the key. Getting her inside, and out again at home, through the door and into her bed he would knock her head or other parts into furniture or doorframes few more times but it wouldn’t became a source of complications.
She would have the hangover of her life going on for days. Alcohol poisoning does that. Fortunately, she won’t have to feel bad about calling in sick come Monday morning. There is no job to go to anymore. Schools can do with less teachers, no support stuff, even worst food. In fact, cities can do with fewer schools especially since constant food rioting in deprived areas torched everything. This is merely a natural succeeding development of the ‘Everyone’s got to pay’ policy. Yachts are expensive.
Thursday, 15 January 2009
Pleading God
There are so many things that I wanted to tell you about. There are so many letters in the ABC that I ever so hopefully wanted to teach to you. But it never came to that, we never had the chance to catch up on all those facts and details. You never had the chance to pick up on typing, typing meaningful stuff without looking at the keyboard. The way I do. You left. You picked up your coat, your garments for the crazy gothic parties that you go to and you stepped out the door shutting it behind you. I loved you like I love my son but you are a robot, I couldn’t possibly give you what you asked for. I couldn’t insert a soul inside your chest. I couldn’t in any possible sense make you human. I already tried making humans and that came to a miserable failure. The kind that one can see unfolding slowly with great pain, powerless to take action.
You were different. I didn’t plan you a soul, I had hopes maybe that will allow you to avoid the same pitfalls and one day it could have been the case but now you are gone. My failure came to me as a great surprise. I’ve learned my lesson. I cannot create anything the way I want it to turn out without a plan and I shouldn’t create anything with one. I will retire now and spend the rest of my days of eternity in quite, contemplative solitude robbed from any joy or entertainment.
You were different. I didn’t plan you a soul, I had hopes maybe that will allow you to avoid the same pitfalls and one day it could have been the case but now you are gone. My failure came to me as a great surprise. I’ve learned my lesson. I cannot create anything the way I want it to turn out without a plan and I shouldn’t create anything with one. I will retire now and spend the rest of my days of eternity in quite, contemplative solitude robbed from any joy or entertainment.
Monday, 22 December 2008
a reality and love
I should be going. I should be getting up from this table, pack up my bag and make for the door. Only after putting on my winter gear of course. Strictly only after that. Stepping outside now, in a jumper wearing no extra protective kit it would be suicide. By the time they would drag me in the door I would probably be long dead. Naturally. Anyone stepping outside in this storm would be knocked down instantly into the cold snow and wearing only a jumper would start freezing instantly. My organs would start shutting down within about 4 seconds. That’s a very short time so even if someone wants to come and help me, drag me back to the building by the time they put on their super winter clothes I would be frozen solid. And if they came without it they would be joining me quickly. There is no point to that now is there? Trying to save that sorry bastard out there or for me, risking those precious lives. I should just start getting dressed.
Dad! Oh that annoyance in her voice.
What is it?
I’m ready. Will you get dressed please?!
Sure just give me a minute. I dosed away staring into the fire thinking of those dreadful clothes again.
If you really so don’t like it here why don’t you just go home? Nobody forced you to come over.
That’s not true! Have you not heard of parental love?
Ah, get lost! But really, are you coming?
Sure, just go ahead. I will come in a minute.
I will never understand what brought her here. This far north to this place. I could never live here. Not even in the summer. A desert of ice and although it is a gross overstatement saying one would last only 4 seconds outside in a storm, it certainly feels like that. Certainly does feel. Unlike in dreams about an easy life, sailing south every spring when the ice breaks. Navigating the Atlantic all the way south to Patagonia and back. Stopping at ports on the coasts of America and Africa reaching back home a year after, settling in for another long winter before heading out again.
Those dreams were crushed once I found out the ice breaks at Qaanaaq only for 2 months a year. They were crushed when I set foot in this town for the first time and they received a final blow when I heard my daughter is planning to spend some years here. I think only then I realized I would never make it here. Only then I realized the difference between a cushioned dream and a reality only them adventurers will set out to endure. And locals who will not find life in constant subzero odd.
Dad! Oh that annoyance in her voice.
What is it?
I’m ready. Will you get dressed please?!
Sure just give me a minute. I dosed away staring into the fire thinking of those dreadful clothes again.
If you really so don’t like it here why don’t you just go home? Nobody forced you to come over.
That’s not true! Have you not heard of parental love?
Ah, get lost! But really, are you coming?
Sure, just go ahead. I will come in a minute.
I will never understand what brought her here. This far north to this place. I could never live here. Not even in the summer. A desert of ice and although it is a gross overstatement saying one would last only 4 seconds outside in a storm, it certainly feels like that. Certainly does feel. Unlike in dreams about an easy life, sailing south every spring when the ice breaks. Navigating the Atlantic all the way south to Patagonia and back. Stopping at ports on the coasts of America and Africa reaching back home a year after, settling in for another long winter before heading out again.
Those dreams were crushed once I found out the ice breaks at Qaanaaq only for 2 months a year. They were crushed when I set foot in this town for the first time and they received a final blow when I heard my daughter is planning to spend some years here. I think only then I realized I would never make it here. Only then I realized the difference between a cushioned dream and a reality only them adventurers will set out to endure. And locals who will not find life in constant subzero odd.
Tuesday, 16 December 2008
Starting From the Library on the Humanities Campus
So there we go or we don’t go
I don’t know what we do, Are we going or not? Maybe we aren’t going anywhere at all just hang out here in the Library and that’s all. Why not? Better then not being anywhere now isn’t it?
I don’t know. You aren’t making any sense, you know that?
Sure I do.
So what are we gonna do? Or you just want to debate here over nothing? Or something that is pretty gibberish? I think I’m gonna take off instead.
Hey! Wait, I will come up with something in a minute
Ok.
I’m waiting...
So am I.
And what are you waiting for?
I am waiting for some understanding, some hatred to be understood. All the stuff that happens, what people do is so senseless! People hurt one and other and I don’t like that. I don’t see any meaning to it.
Well, yeah. On the one hand it’s claimed human life is sacred on the other it isn’t. It’s not showing sense to me. There are people who think less of others whose sexual orientation is different. It goes to a degree that they will not want to know how to interact with such people professionally. How to interact with their kids professionally? As a teacher. So there is a sacred human life, a child who is being told by her teacher she is less than her classmates, a non-proper human being because of something that she has nothing to do with.
Sick! It’s like telling my German friend that she is responsible for what has happened in the 30s and 40s in Europe. In the Universe. 40 years before she was born. Sick. But why are you so moody? Did you just read newspapers again?
Yup.
I thought so. What was it?
I don’t want to talk about it.
Fine. Let’s talk about something else. Do you wanna get out of here?
Maybe. We could go shopping. How about getting something to eat?
What do you have in mind?
Marzipan.
Sounds good. Let’s go.
Where to?
Shops I guess, once there we should pick up some bread and some milk.
Ok. Is it far?
Of course it is. Everything is far here but at least we can talk about something.
I still don’t want to talk much, If not the news than the guy we saw outside occupies my mind.
What with him?
He was weired. His mind was so full of thoughts that were just somehow... inappropriate. Or so it seemed for someone around a university.
I think I remember that guy. He was deeply in thoughts. Something about the Humanities department wasn’t it?
Yes, ‘It’s here, all this fancy and fluff. They are such a waste of space and so proud oh they so proud. They give the president! The president studied here, in this department. I hate coming here. Sociologist, linguists and crap like that what use are they? None. I say none. We should just get rid of them all. All this fake science. The world would be better off with engineers in charge. ‘
Yup, some serious thoughts.
Do you know any engineers?
Briefly. Not so much. Somehow all the guys I know seem to gravitate around the humanities.
I had some really cool teachers, long time ago, programming teachers. They were really cool. I quite liked them. But I guess they had something, the teacher quality that made them cool. Like me. Without that... Well I don’t know. I don’t know people from the science department.
Neither do It. How come that the science department is called the science department. Isn’t that degrading on the humanities? Isn’t teaching a science?
Sure it is but are you sure the rest of the house of knowledge, that is not the humanities dept called science dept?
Oh, I am not sure. Is it not?
I don’t know. It may well be but I guess I am so ignorant towards it I haven’t a clue.
Well if it is I am right, there is something not right then. Humanities are squashed. But If I am wrong then I am just squashing the other stuff that is not humanities. I am so full of prejudicies.
Aren’t we all? What kind of bread do you want to get?
Donno. Maybe something sort of dark
I don’t know what we do, Are we going or not? Maybe we aren’t going anywhere at all just hang out here in the Library and that’s all. Why not? Better then not being anywhere now isn’t it?
I don’t know. You aren’t making any sense, you know that?
Sure I do.
So what are we gonna do? Or you just want to debate here over nothing? Or something that is pretty gibberish? I think I’m gonna take off instead.
Hey! Wait, I will come up with something in a minute
Ok.
I’m waiting...
So am I.
And what are you waiting for?
I am waiting for some understanding, some hatred to be understood. All the stuff that happens, what people do is so senseless! People hurt one and other and I don’t like that. I don’t see any meaning to it.
Well, yeah. On the one hand it’s claimed human life is sacred on the other it isn’t. It’s not showing sense to me. There are people who think less of others whose sexual orientation is different. It goes to a degree that they will not want to know how to interact with such people professionally. How to interact with their kids professionally? As a teacher. So there is a sacred human life, a child who is being told by her teacher she is less than her classmates, a non-proper human being because of something that she has nothing to do with.
Sick! It’s like telling my German friend that she is responsible for what has happened in the 30s and 40s in Europe. In the Universe. 40 years before she was born. Sick. But why are you so moody? Did you just read newspapers again?
Yup.
I thought so. What was it?
I don’t want to talk about it.
Fine. Let’s talk about something else. Do you wanna get out of here?
Maybe. We could go shopping. How about getting something to eat?
What do you have in mind?
Marzipan.
Sounds good. Let’s go.
Where to?
Shops I guess, once there we should pick up some bread and some milk.
Ok. Is it far?
Of course it is. Everything is far here but at least we can talk about something.
I still don’t want to talk much, If not the news than the guy we saw outside occupies my mind.
What with him?
He was weired. His mind was so full of thoughts that were just somehow... inappropriate. Or so it seemed for someone around a university.
I think I remember that guy. He was deeply in thoughts. Something about the Humanities department wasn’t it?
Yes, ‘It’s here, all this fancy and fluff. They are such a waste of space and so proud oh they so proud. They give the president! The president studied here, in this department. I hate coming here. Sociologist, linguists and crap like that what use are they? None. I say none. We should just get rid of them all. All this fake science. The world would be better off with engineers in charge. ‘
Yup, some serious thoughts.
Do you know any engineers?
Briefly. Not so much. Somehow all the guys I know seem to gravitate around the humanities.
I had some really cool teachers, long time ago, programming teachers. They were really cool. I quite liked them. But I guess they had something, the teacher quality that made them cool. Like me. Without that... Well I don’t know. I don’t know people from the science department.
Neither do It. How come that the science department is called the science department. Isn’t that degrading on the humanities? Isn’t teaching a science?
Sure it is but are you sure the rest of the house of knowledge, that is not the humanities dept called science dept?
Oh, I am not sure. Is it not?
I don’t know. It may well be but I guess I am so ignorant towards it I haven’t a clue.
Well if it is I am right, there is something not right then. Humanities are squashed. But If I am wrong then I am just squashing the other stuff that is not humanities. I am so full of prejudicies.
Aren’t we all? What kind of bread do you want to get?
Donno. Maybe something sort of dark
Thursday, 11 December 2008
Somewhere up norht
This might comes to a surprise to you but you are alive. Look around this room, there is fire crackling although I don’t seem to hear it or smell it. Maybe it’s temporarily. There is that big man in that large chair working on that tiny laptop. Where did I see that machine before?
You are awake at last. He murmurs when he turns around. Can I get you anything? His eyebrows rise a bit. What a curiosity it must be. I might want something.
Am I dad?
Of course not. You are safe. We found you just outside the town three days ago.
I slept for three days or, I wonder worst. What if they have done something to me, some experiments? What would a town be out here for anyway if not for experimenting. That fact that he was fidgeting with my laptop, I can see from the desktop picture it is mine, sets me suspicious even more so.
You were drifting in and out of consciousness remaining delirious. One of my associates cared for you. I have been busy and not much good at taking care of people myself.
What are you doing with my stuff? I try to sit up in order to look a bit menacing with a hint of authority although my attempt I feel futile in his presence in the small room.
This? Pointing at the machine, You only had this on you, inside your coat, you must have left the rest of the bag somewhere, I was trying to figure out who are you so we can contact someone, relatives. That’s why I dropped.
Todd. I am Todd Cameron but I don’t think you will find anything on that.
Hello Todd. He offers his hand, I am Nic. Pleased to meet you.
So can I get anything for you. Another blanket, perhaps a cup of tea before you eat something?
That would be nice. With two sugar please and well, thanks for saving my life.
Not at all, not at all but we don’t have any sugar, I’m sorry.
Really? No bother. Where are we by the way?
He pours my tea and hands the cup over with a broad but somehow smirky smile. He looks into the fire, probably thinking the answer for my question reigniting my suspicion this is some secret research centre. I am curious however what he may answer and give him time, following his eyes looking at the fire while mentally examining my body. Is it all intact? Is there anything missing, does anything feels damaged beyond repair but I cannot sense such apart from the shivering that seems to be coming from the inside of my bones and the burning aches that I allocate to frost bites. Will they let me go?
Why do you have a fake fire? He only got out a syllable of his answer when I interrupt him with my discovery. That broad smile again.
If you look behind the bed you can see we have central heating around here.
So you do. I always imagined up north people would be out chopping wood, feeding their fires winter long.
It gets boring you know and we don’t always have time for it. In fact we are too busy for such daily inconveniences most of the time.
The door flings open and a fairly short man bursts in the room.
Nic! Nic you must come and see the – he bites the rest of the sentence and takes a couple of steps back eyes fixed on me.
So you are awake then? What were you doing out there? Alone? With that?
I glance at the laptop then Nic gathering myself to answer but I don’t get to speak
What was it Edmond? If it can wait come back in half an hour otherwise we should go. By the way, this is Todd
It cannot wait. Erg, Pleased to meet you Todd. I am, he said already, Edmond. Will you excuse us and I will take the boss for a few minutes.
That’s all right. I will drink my tea.
They leave and I am left wondering, resting. How did this happen? I left the camp using the directions they gave me. I should have hit the road and from there a settlement soon enough. You idiot, after six months in the woods you still get lost using a simple map and a compass. But why is this place here? How far did I wonder before getting here? Or have they found me out there? Am I kidnapped? I get out of bed and wrapping the blanket around my shoulder I walk to the window where I slowly move the curtain to the side.
I gasp.
Breathless I see a metropolis. There is no snow. My eyes are caught by a flickering neon light about 15 stories down on the tower block across the street. I recognise some Chinese characters on it.
Would you care to take a seat?
Where am I? What is this place? I won’t move an inch till you tell me what’s going on.
Sit down! Please.
I sit and look back at the window only to see light snow falling gently on the roofs of two story wooden buildings. I stand up and walk to the window again.
What’s going on here? Is this some sort of joke?
I wait, we wait. I breathe normally again after a couple of minutes staring at the falling snow and obscurely short people rushing around outside. I glance at the man, Nic quickly and a terrible suspicion explodes in me but my eyes are back on the window. Still the same view.
Will you sit now please? Now there you go. Another cup of tea?
Are you...
I am. And you so far the only man on earth who managed to walk into this village, who could find it.
But what was that outside the window? That wasn’t here. It looked like, I hesitate, it looked like –
Shanghai.
Shanghai?!
I have my office building also in shanghai occupying the top 2 stories of an office tower. Of course I do. What did you expect? We make all those toys out here? And what would those fine European environmentalists say to that? How about EU regulations and international acts on the rights of indigenous people?
Shanghai? I cannot digest the information. Are you Chinese?
No I am not. Although I may well be but as far as I am aware I am German and pretty old. How did you find us? You are an anthropologist. We found a couple of articles about a missing researcher. Are you here to find us?
No. I was with the nomads for about 6 months and got lost on my way back to civilization. But how did we get to Shanghai?
It’s not important now. I request a small favour from you...
I am afraid to answer. At least it isn’t a secret Russian research centre. Part of me is screaming it is far worst though. Santatown. I grow suspicious again, this may well be an experiment or some stupid practical joke but there isn’t anything I can do to gain control of the situation. So what the hack? Go with it. Ok I am listening.
Our way of living, the elves way of life is disappearing altogether. Santatown since I moved production has been on rapid economic decline. Alcoholism and agaric mushroom abuse is on all time high. The elves are selling off their properties to rich Chinese secret agents as holiday resorts. The shanty town in the outskirts is growing every day. I need someone to record our culture before it is completely wiped out by the increasing demand for us and maybe, only maybe, if you up for such task I need help reinventing Santatown.
I’m in, I say and don’t really know why I am saying this. The guy is nuts for sure or he really is Santa. Maybe we are being recorded and I will be watched for fun or showed at universities on psychology. But hey, I’m alive. Or maybe I am about to die but at least I go down believing I am the saviour. I smile nodding and Nic visibly feeling more relaxed returns the smile.
I’m definitely up for the job
You are awake at last. He murmurs when he turns around. Can I get you anything? His eyebrows rise a bit. What a curiosity it must be. I might want something.
Am I dad?
Of course not. You are safe. We found you just outside the town three days ago.
I slept for three days or, I wonder worst. What if they have done something to me, some experiments? What would a town be out here for anyway if not for experimenting. That fact that he was fidgeting with my laptop, I can see from the desktop picture it is mine, sets me suspicious even more so.
You were drifting in and out of consciousness remaining delirious. One of my associates cared for you. I have been busy and not much good at taking care of people myself.
What are you doing with my stuff? I try to sit up in order to look a bit menacing with a hint of authority although my attempt I feel futile in his presence in the small room.
This? Pointing at the machine, You only had this on you, inside your coat, you must have left the rest of the bag somewhere, I was trying to figure out who are you so we can contact someone, relatives. That’s why I dropped.
Todd. I am Todd Cameron but I don’t think you will find anything on that.
Hello Todd. He offers his hand, I am Nic. Pleased to meet you.
So can I get anything for you. Another blanket, perhaps a cup of tea before you eat something?
That would be nice. With two sugar please and well, thanks for saving my life.
Not at all, not at all but we don’t have any sugar, I’m sorry.
Really? No bother. Where are we by the way?
He pours my tea and hands the cup over with a broad but somehow smirky smile. He looks into the fire, probably thinking the answer for my question reigniting my suspicion this is some secret research centre. I am curious however what he may answer and give him time, following his eyes looking at the fire while mentally examining my body. Is it all intact? Is there anything missing, does anything feels damaged beyond repair but I cannot sense such apart from the shivering that seems to be coming from the inside of my bones and the burning aches that I allocate to frost bites. Will they let me go?
Why do you have a fake fire? He only got out a syllable of his answer when I interrupt him with my discovery. That broad smile again.
If you look behind the bed you can see we have central heating around here.
So you do. I always imagined up north people would be out chopping wood, feeding their fires winter long.
It gets boring you know and we don’t always have time for it. In fact we are too busy for such daily inconveniences most of the time.
The door flings open and a fairly short man bursts in the room.
Nic! Nic you must come and see the – he bites the rest of the sentence and takes a couple of steps back eyes fixed on me.
So you are awake then? What were you doing out there? Alone? With that?
I glance at the laptop then Nic gathering myself to answer but I don’t get to speak
What was it Edmond? If it can wait come back in half an hour otherwise we should go. By the way, this is Todd
It cannot wait. Erg, Pleased to meet you Todd. I am, he said already, Edmond. Will you excuse us and I will take the boss for a few minutes.
That’s all right. I will drink my tea.
They leave and I am left wondering, resting. How did this happen? I left the camp using the directions they gave me. I should have hit the road and from there a settlement soon enough. You idiot, after six months in the woods you still get lost using a simple map and a compass. But why is this place here? How far did I wonder before getting here? Or have they found me out there? Am I kidnapped? I get out of bed and wrapping the blanket around my shoulder I walk to the window where I slowly move the curtain to the side.
I gasp.
Breathless I see a metropolis. There is no snow. My eyes are caught by a flickering neon light about 15 stories down on the tower block across the street. I recognise some Chinese characters on it.
Would you care to take a seat?
Where am I? What is this place? I won’t move an inch till you tell me what’s going on.
Sit down! Please.
I sit and look back at the window only to see light snow falling gently on the roofs of two story wooden buildings. I stand up and walk to the window again.
What’s going on here? Is this some sort of joke?
I wait, we wait. I breathe normally again after a couple of minutes staring at the falling snow and obscurely short people rushing around outside. I glance at the man, Nic quickly and a terrible suspicion explodes in me but my eyes are back on the window. Still the same view.
Will you sit now please? Now there you go. Another cup of tea?
Are you...
I am. And you so far the only man on earth who managed to walk into this village, who could find it.
But what was that outside the window? That wasn’t here. It looked like, I hesitate, it looked like –
Shanghai.
Shanghai?!
I have my office building also in shanghai occupying the top 2 stories of an office tower. Of course I do. What did you expect? We make all those toys out here? And what would those fine European environmentalists say to that? How about EU regulations and international acts on the rights of indigenous people?
Shanghai? I cannot digest the information. Are you Chinese?
No I am not. Although I may well be but as far as I am aware I am German and pretty old. How did you find us? You are an anthropologist. We found a couple of articles about a missing researcher. Are you here to find us?
No. I was with the nomads for about 6 months and got lost on my way back to civilization. But how did we get to Shanghai?
It’s not important now. I request a small favour from you...
I am afraid to answer. At least it isn’t a secret Russian research centre. Part of me is screaming it is far worst though. Santatown. I grow suspicious again, this may well be an experiment or some stupid practical joke but there isn’t anything I can do to gain control of the situation. So what the hack? Go with it. Ok I am listening.
Our way of living, the elves way of life is disappearing altogether. Santatown since I moved production has been on rapid economic decline. Alcoholism and agaric mushroom abuse is on all time high. The elves are selling off their properties to rich Chinese secret agents as holiday resorts. The shanty town in the outskirts is growing every day. I need someone to record our culture before it is completely wiped out by the increasing demand for us and maybe, only maybe, if you up for such task I need help reinventing Santatown.
I’m in, I say and don’t really know why I am saying this. The guy is nuts for sure or he really is Santa. Maybe we are being recorded and I will be watched for fun or showed at universities on psychology. But hey, I’m alive. Or maybe I am about to die but at least I go down believing I am the saviour. I smile nodding and Nic visibly feeling more relaxed returns the smile.
I’m definitely up for the job
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