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Monday, June 30, 2014

90

Bjorn felt a god deal better just stepping out into the cold night air, and his curiosity about the market and how it had changed over the last few days soon made him forget all about his sudden spell of dizziness. He looked briefly around for Frank, but it was clear that he was not among the people strolling among the stalls.

The market was busy but not crowded, and most of the people out among the stalls were people catching a bit of fresh air or having a smoke before returning to the casino. A man having had too much to drink was sitting on a bench a bit away from the stalls, in the continuation of the diagonal going in the direction of the fish processing plant. He was sitting, hunched forward, with a friend at his side. But apart from him, there was little sign of people having had too much to drink.

Bjorn noticed that all the new stalls were placed along the diagonal in the direction of the casino, and that a new lane was about to be established parallel to the street in front of the casino. It was almost as if the casino itself was pulling the stalls in its direction, but it was of course only natural that the market would grow in that direction, with so many tourists and potential customers coming from that side of the square.

The new stalls were mainly selling touristy stuff, like little rag dolls, T-shirts and other gift items. A busker was sitting on a camping chair, playing his guitar, and a woman had put up a small table with two chairs under a paraffin lamp where she sat cutting miniature portraits of people. She was very skilled with her scissors, quickly cutting out impressively accurate profiles in black paper which she in turn glued onto pre-cut white backgrounds before handing them over to her customers.

Bjorn was for a while completely mesmerised by the woman's lightning fast handiwork, and was tempted to have his own portrait cut. But he decided against it after realizing he had no intention of hanging up a portrait of himself anywhere in his room. The portrait would simply disappear into a drawer somewhere and never again see the light of day.

Bjorn pulled a tiny casino chip out of his pocket and tossed it into the hat in front of the busker. Then he went over to a stall selling rag dolls, fluffy animals and T-shirts. There was a bunch of fluffy polar bears on one side of the stall, all wearing little T-shirts with "I Love the Arctic" embroidered on them, and next to this pile were some fliers protesting Pedro's claim to the village square.

"May I take one?" Bjorn asked the stall keeper, pointing to the fliers.
"Sure! And feel free to sign our petition too," he answered.

Bjorn looked at the petition, next to the fliers, and feeling generous and sympathetic towards the stall owners he signed his name on the list. Then he looked briefly through the T-shirts, most of which had the usual popular culture themes, but some having "I Love Lundby" on them too. And to Bjorn's surprise he also found a couple in military green with the single word "5th" printed on the front, and "citizen" printed on the back.

"5th avenue?" Bjorn asked, deliberately pretending to be clueless.
"No... 5th Empire," the stall owner corrected with a chuckle. "We can have your name printed on the back under the word citizen if you please."
"Really? You have a machine to do that here?" Bjorn asked, seeing no such machine in the stall.
"No, but I have a deal with the dry cleaners over there," the stall owner explained, pointing to the dry cleaner to the south of the square.

Bjorn looked over at the shop with its brightly lit store front before asking the stall owner what the Fifth Empire thing was all about.

"Oh... I thought you knew... It is the kingdom of God," the stall owner explained with no hint of irony.
"Is that so?" Bjorn answered sceptically. "And a citizen is a believer? Is that how it goes?"
"Yeah, that's about right."

Bjorn smiled. It was a neat idea if nothing else. But not being religiously inclined, and certainly not interested in associating himself with a cult, he explained that the T-shirt was not for him. The stall owner smiled and nodded. "You'll come to see it differently one day," he said. "I'm sure of it."

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