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Wednesday, July 23, 2014

105

Bjorn was completely caught up in his grand daydream when someone entered the living room behind him. He did not immediately turn to greet his colleague, engulfed as he was in visions of the future, but when he heard the sound of a key turning in the lock of the cabinet with the spare gun, Bjorn was suddenly shaken out of his dream.

Bjorn turned and looked around the side of his chair, immediately catching sight of Frank squatting in front of the cabinet, feverishly unpacking a gun and a gun belt. Then, still not aware of Bjorn's presence, he rose up, strapped the gun belt to his side and put the gun in its place before kicking the empty packaging back into the cupboard.

"So, what's up?" Bjorn asked as Frank finally locked the cabinet with his key.
"What? Me?" Frank asked, looking around bewildered.
"Yeah, what's with the gun?" Bjorn asked.
"Oh... Eh... This?" Frank asked, suddenly blushing while looking sheepishly over at Bjorn.
"Yeah? What happened to your gun?"
"My gun? Well... This is my gun," Frank said, pointing to the gun he had just strapped on.
"No, it's not. You just pulled that one out of the cabinet."
"Eh... I did, didn't I?" Frank answered, lost for words.
"So?"
"Well... It is not really any of your business, is it?" Frank countered.
"It kind of is... I'd like to know where your gun is. You didn't loose it, did you?"
"Eh... No, of course not."
"So where is it?"
"In Lundby," Frank admitted.
"In Lundby?"
"Yeah... I'll... I'll pick it up later... You know... I'm just going to wear this one until I get back down there to get my own."

Frank was about to explain himself further when Ante appeared, drawn to the living room by the sound of Frank's voice.

"So, what's in Lundby?" Ante asked.
"Frank's gun," Bjorn explained.
"You lost your gun in Lundby?" Ante asked, clearly finding this hard to believe.
"No! I know exactly where it is. I'll get it later," Frank protested.
"So, where is it?" Bjorn asked.
"At the casino. It's in a safe in the casino."
"Why?"

There was an awkward silence, with Frank unable to answer Bjorn's simple question. Ante started to chuckle and shake his head.

"You've been upstairs again haven't you?" Ante asked.
"Yeah... Well... And... You know... That's really none of your business."
"Upstairs?" Bjorn asked.
"Upstairs with the girls at the casino," Ante explained. "I knew it! We all knew it... But man... Loosing your gun. That's pretty brain dead... Even for you, Frank."
"Now, watch it, will you," Frank protested. "I'll sort this out."

Then, to everybody's surprise, Igor appeared in the living room, asking for Ante.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Frank asked, switching to English.
"I'm looking for Ante," Igor answered in his heavy Russian accent. "You just ordered a taxi ride, didn't you Ante?"
"Sure, but how did you get here so quickly?"
"I just delivered Frank... Picked him up at the casino."
"Oh... Well... I still have a few things to finish in the kitchen."
"Is it all right if I wait here while you finish whatever you're doing?" Igor asked. "There's no point in me driving down to Lundby just to return in an hour from now."

The three colleagues looked at each other.

"No, it's not all right," Frank said. "This is a military installation. You can sit in your car outside, but not in here with us."
"Come on," Ante protested. "I mean... This is Igor, he's practically part of the family."
"No! We can't have civilians roam around at our premises."
"Roam around? He's not going to roam around. What's the big deal?"
"It would be a security hazard," Frank insisted.
"Says the man who just left his gun at the casino," Ante added cynically.
"Well... Okay... I'll make an exception this once," Frank answered wearily. "Now, if you will excuse me, I'm off to bed."

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

104

Thomas got up from his chair to leave for his room, and Bjorn joined him out to the hallway. But instead of going up to his own room, Bjorn entered the living room. There was nobody there, and the silent emptiness of it seemed just right after all the emotional bickering he had been subjected to by Thomas. Not that he minded it much, but Thomas was bitter, and some of his acid remarks simply felt uncomfortable, no matter how true they might be.

It was time to put things in perspective, and focus more on the here and now. Things weren't bad, all things considered, and there was really no reason to feel upset about things completely outside his control. And again he was drawn to the view to the north as an excellent way to sooth his mind.

Bjorn decided to pull the large easy chair from in front of the TV over to the coffee table by the window. It was surprisingly light, considering how bulky it was, and it took no effort at all to place the chair squarely in front of the large window. Sitting down in it, Bjorn immediately felt a sensation of well being, and watching the snowflakes drift by, obscuring, but not completely hiding the overall view, was soothing and meditative.

He remained seated, just watching the view, for some time before feeling any urge to do anything at all, and when he finally pulled his glance back from the view he absentmindedly picked up the first thing he saw in front of him, the stall owners' leaflet that he had dropped on the coffee table before going to the kitchen for breakfast. He did so mechanically, as if merely floating about randomly, a little like the snow flakes outside, and he proceeded to look at the leaflet as if the words were carrying no meaning, focusing on its form and its lettering rather than its content.

The whole thing was nothing more than a single sheet of paper, folded in the middle to give the impression of being somehow full of information. But the font size and the generous use of whitespace made it clear that there wasn't an awful lot to be said about the stall owner's position. Then, directing his attention to the actual message in the leaflet, he started to read.

"This Land is Our Land" it said in a big fat typeface, followed by a short argument in a needlessly bold typeface laying out the fact that the stall owners were the first ones to use the village square, and that Pedro never used it for anything. Being the first ones to use the village square productively, it followed that it belonged to the stall owners, and that Pedro's attempt to extract rent from them was nothing less than neo-medieval rent seeking. And having read this, Bjorn felt certain that the stall owners were in the right, and that no argument could be formed to counter this claim. Bjorn felt happy about having signed the petition. He agreed with it full heartedly.

The pamphlet also included a list of the stall owners who had joined together to form their union, and Bjorn found himself for some reason fascinated by the list of names. He soon found Peter's name on the list. There were several East Asian names too, as well as a couple of Russian looking names, but no Norwegians. The union was in other words a union of foreigners, all making exclusive claims to Norwegian soil, and this thought, although sinister in a way, did not worry Bjorn in the least. Rather, it got his imagination going.

Bjorn could suddenly see Lundby growing into a great cosmopolitan city with people from all over the world residing there, and he felt exited by his vision. "Was this in fact the project?" he wondered as he leant back in the easy chair. "Was Lundby in fact a conspiracy to create a huge city at the top of the world? A city to dominate the world. The heart of the empire, as it were."

Bjorn's visions expanded quickly where he sat, and he could see ferry services crisscrossing the bay in front of him, buildings everywhere, tall ones and smaller ones, industry, commerce, a great industrial and commercial hub right at the edge of the world.

Saturday, July 19, 2014

103

After telling Ante that they were feeling fine, apart from a mild hangover, Thomas confronted Ante with the fact that he had completely lost control last night, and got himself terribly drunk.

"And you were supposed to be our designated driver," Thomas said, clearly disappointed.
"Well, I was doing fine right until Bjorn came in, suggesting we all take a taxi home," Ante protested.
"No, you were not. You already had way too much to drink."
"I did not! I was drinking the occasional alcoholic beverage, but I was mainly sticking to soft drinks. I was in total control. It was you guys who suggested we take a taxi."
"Because you already had too much to drink," Thomas said, a little exasperated.
"Well... Anyway... Once we decided to order a taxi, there was no need for me to restrain myself, was there?"

There was a pause as Ante took a sip of water from his glass.

"So you know Igor, do you?" Bjorn asked, changing the subject somewhat.
"Yes, he's a good friend of mine," Ante answered with a smile.
"So why did you blank out completely when I told you there's a taxi service in Lundby?"
"I did?"
"Yeah, you did. But Igor must have told you about his taxi service. He's a pretty talkative guy."
"Sure is... Well... Now that you mention it, I thought you were talking about one of those old fashion services. You know... the type you have down in Oslo."
"And?"
"Well... I couldn't quite see it working up here. Lundby is a tiny village after all... But you're right. Igor told me all about it... He even had me download the app on my smartphone."
"And still you didn't make the connection when I told you about the taxi?"
"You know... You really caught me a little off guard when you came in... And I don't see why you're making such a fuss about this... Here, have a look at this... This is the app."

Ante fished his smartphone out of his pocket and clicked on an icon of a car, holding the smartphone at an angle to let Bjorn watch while he demonstrated it.

"So, if you want a lift, you simply type in your location here, and up comes the list of available cars."
"Looks like Igor is offline," Bjorn commented, seeing Igor's name greyed out.
"Yes, he's probably deep asleep, or just getting up... Anyway, if I set the time that I want to get a car to this evening, he might again be available."

Ante typed in nine PM, and sure enough, Igor's name was no longer greyed out.

"But look what happens if I type in some far off place like Oslo as the destination," Ante continued, typing in an address off the top of his head. "You see how Igor is greyed out again."
"Yeah, why?"
"It's because the trip will take too much time... You see here... It says that Igor cannot take the assignment because it takes too much time, interfering with other assignments... Now, if we push this button we'll get a list of all those available to take this particular job... And... as you can see, there's no cars available for this particular lift."
"Cool... and if you type in a different destination?" Bjorn asked. "What happens?"

Ante typed in Lundby village square, and up came a list with three cars, with Igor's name on top.

"And why is Igor's name on top?" Bjorn asked, curious to learn more.
"Because we used him last night, and I gave him excellent marks for his service," Ante explained.
"Well, that's great," Bjorn exclaimed, genuinely impressed.
"It is, isn't it?" Ante agreed. "You'll find it online too. In case you don't have a smart phone."

Bjorn took a sip of his coffee, thinking back to the recent unrest related to rogue taxi services in Oslo, and how the new government finally clamped down on it with full force after a particularly violent riot.

"So this is the service those anarchists in Oslo were so fiercely against?" Bjorn asked.
"Well... This, and similar services," Ante corrected. "They were pretty fierce, those rioters, weren't they? Imagine tricking all those driver into that square, and then come out and beat them up with bats and rocks and whatnot."
"And what for?" Bjorn asked rhetorically. "The poor drivers were helping people get from A to B."
"Tax evasion, Bjorn. Tax evasion," Ante said earnestly.
"Yeah but still, they almost killed one of the drivers," Bjorn protested.
"And then they locked them all up in jail together with the rioters," Thomas added. "Imagine being locked up with those thugs... I'm pretty sure they put them together intentionally, just to rub it in."

There was a pause while the men contemplated the riots that had taken place right after the elections.

"They are a bunch of perverted sadists," Thomas commented, clearly disgusted by what happened.
"Who? The anarchists?" Ante asked.
"Yeah... But the law enforcers aren't much better, are they? Putting those poor drivers in jail together with those psychopaths."
"True," Ante agreed.
"And it's not like it is the first time they did something like that." Thomas continued.
"No?" Bjorn asked, not able to think of a similar episode.
"You remember what they did to Odd, don't you?" Thomas asked.
"The painter?" Bjorn asked.
"Yeah... Locking him up two years... Also for tax evasion." Thomas explained. "With no access to paint, brushes, canvas, pencils... Did you hear what they did when they found him with some paper and a couple of pencils?"
"No, what happened?"
"They locked him in an isolation cell for a week."
"Really?"
"Yeah, it never got a mention anywhere, except briefly by Odd's lawyer, who promptly got replaced by another guy."
"You're kidding," Bjorn said shocked, but also feeling pretty sure that Thomas was exaggerating, and making things sound worse than they were.
"Look it up! The tweet was promptly removed, but you can still find copies of it on the web. And you'll also learn that Odd's lawyer was replaced due to so called irregularities... And have you seen any recent pictures of Odd, by the way?"
"No... The last ones I saw, he was still in court, fighting for his freedom."
"He looked pretty haggard even then, but you should see him now!"
"Yeah?"
"He's a wreck... They are killing him. That's what they are doing. They are making an example of him. People will think twice before trying to evade taxes again when they see what they did to Odd, and how things went with the drivers."

There was again a pause. Bjorn sent Ante a concerned look, sensing that Thomas was getting a bit too excited.

"But tax evasion is a pretty serious crime," Ante suggested.
"Worse than beating someone almost to death?" Thomas asked.
"No, but..."
"Well, the rioters were let out two months ago. The drivers, on the other hand, are all still locked up. Even Lars, the leader of the rioters is out in the free after having organized this whole episode... And now he's up to no good again, heading the anti-Lundby protests."

And that was it, of course. That was where Bjorn had seen the retro punker before. Bjorn knew there was something familiar about the man, but had completely forgotten that he was the one behind the taxi riots last fall.

"I knew I'd seen that anarchist before," Bjorn exclaimed glibly.
"You know," Thomas said, turning to Bjorn. "It's completely idiotic to call that guy an anarchist. Have you ever heard of a tax collecting anarchist? How is that even possible? Anarchist are supposed to be against the state, not working for it."
"Well... it is kind of anarchist to take the law into your own hand, isn't it?" Ante commented in Bjorn's defence.
"No, it is not?" Thomas protested. "Doing that makes you a vigilante, not an anarchist. Anarchists leave people alone."
"I think people like Lars will disagree," Ante countered. "I'm pretty sure I heard him refer to himself as an anarchist the other day."
"I'm sure he does," Thomas said, nodding wearily. "But he is not an anarchist as long as he insists on other people living by his rules. That only makes him an aspiring ruler, a thug convinced that his rules must be followed by others, no matter what."

There was again a pause. Then, Ante broke the silence by saying that he had a hard time getting the image of rock throwing thugs out of his head whenever the word anarchist was used.

"And that is probably why they call themselves citizens down in Lundby," Thomas commented. "The only true anarchists are the gentle anarchists. Everyone else is just out to dominate their fellow men."

Friday, July 18, 2014

102

"So it is basically a community of anarchists?" Bjorn asked, looking out of the kitchen window where the snow was falling heavily. Then turning back to Thomas he continued. "I mean... the good kind. The kind that doesn't blow things up."
"Yeah, that's right. It's a community of gentle anarchists," Thomas said with a nod. "Like the Portuguese. They're not prone to blowing things up. They leave people alone... You know... Live by the Golden Rule."
"So then, if I bumped into a bunch of these guys, I would in fact find myself in the Fifth Empire without knowing it?"
"No, you would not be in the empire, you would only be among the citizens of the empire. You're not in the empire before you declare yourself a citizen, and consistently live by the Golden Rule."
"And that's where it gets a bit too cultish for my taste," Bjorn concluded.
"Me too," Thomas said with a nod. "I wouldn't mind living among them, though."
"No... Sounds like a nice bunch... Unless they constantly try to convince you, like the evangelist... you know."
"Ah... but that's the beauty of it. Constantly nagging people isn't very nice, so they don't do that. And Frederico keeps stressing this in his sermons."
"So how do they spread the word?"
"Well, by mentioning it every now and again, and by making all their material available on the web. And Frederico holds some very interesting and entertaining sermons. People simply get drawn into this, and they end up declaring themselves citizens... I mean... this could really take off in a big way."
"You think so?"
"It is certainly doing very well in Lundby. Even Jan mentioned the empire when he got up and basically asked us to leave... Ten minutes before they closed... You know."
"He's a citizen?" Bjorn asked in amazement. "Jan, the Mafioso, is a citizen?"
"I think so," Thomas said, apparently without seeing the contradiction. "At least, he gave me that impression."
"But he's a thug," Bjorn protested. "He kills people. At least, that's what Ante hinted at."
"I think Ante may have been exaggerating," Thomas commented dryly.

But just as the two men started talking about Ante, the man himself appeared in the doorway, looking terribly hung over, and this stopped the conversation dead in its track.

"So you two are talking about me behind my back, are you?" Ante asked. "Well, isn't that just typical, you Sami-hating southerners."
"What?" Thomas asked, looking in disbelief at Ante as he shuffled over to the cupboard where he grabbed a glass and filled it with water, swearing and cursing as he went.

"I'm just kidding," Ante said, looking over at his colleagues from the kitchen sink. "You never get it, do you? It's a joke. I don't hate you. I like you. I like you all... Well...except for Geir maybe..."
Then, as Bjorn and Thomas started to chuckle, Ante added "Nah... he's a nice guy too I guess. It's just a little less obvious with him."

Then, sitting down at the table, next to his colleagues, Ante continued with a smile, "so how are we all feeling today?"

Thursday, July 17, 2014

101

Bjorn looked at Thomas with sudden distrust. Why would he bring up the Fifth Empire, he wondered. It had to be some kind of joke.

"You're kidding, right?" Bjorn asked. "You're not one of them, are you?"
"No I'm not," Thomas said, with a smile while shaking his head. "And besides, the empire is not something you accidentally step into. It is not like you wake up one day and suddenly find yourself in the empire."
"No, because it does not exist, right? There is no such thing as a Fifth Empire."
"Well... I'm not sure about that. If enough people believe in it, it actually does exist."
"Oh yeah? Like what?"
"Like Norway. Norway exists, right?"
"Sure... Of course."
"But if nobody ever heard of it, and nobody believed it existed, then it wouldn't exist anymore, would it?"
"No, but now you're being silly... Then we would be part of Sweden... Or Denmark... Or whatever."
"But all those countries also only exist because people believe they exist. All countries are just imaginary entities. And the same is true about the empire. The empire is an idea. But no less real for that reason."
"Oh yeah? So point to the empire. Where is it?"
"Well, wherever there are citizens of the empire, the empire exists."
"So you can't actually point to it on a map?"
"No."
"Well, does that not make it less real than a country like Norway, with borders and territory, and all that comes with being a country?"
"But you are making the wrong comparison. The Fifth Empire is a political system. It is a way of life. It is like Socialism, or Christianity, or Islam."
"It is a cult in other words?"
"Yeah... If you like... But a pretty benign one."

Bjorn took a sip of his coffee. Then after some thinking he asked Thomas how it was that he knew so much about the empire.

"I found out about it by looking it up on the web," Thomas explained. "The whole thing is based on an old Portuguese myth, which holds that there will be a fifth and final empire, completely different from all other empires, and that it will be marked by the spirit of the Portuguese."
"That sounds pretty colonial to me," Bjorn remarked. "Does not ring well in my ear. Not a very novel idea either, is it?"
"Sure! And that is why no one took it very seriously until this Frederico came along with his Church of the Golden Rule... He's Brazilian and he pointed out that there is a big difference between being ruled by the Portuguese and to be marked by the spirit of the Portuguese."
"Okay, so now there's some holy spirit mixed up in this thing too... Come on... Explain this to me."

Thomas leant back in his chair, looking for a moment unsure of himself.

"Look!" he said. "I only discovered this thing like a week ago, so I'm no expert. Most of what I know, I've picked up from YouTube. The Church of the Golden Rule has its own channel... If you're curious, you're probably better off listening to Frederico than to have me explain this stuff."
"Okay," Bjorn said, a little disappointed. "But can't you give it a try at least?"

Thomas took a thoughtful sip of his coffee, as if searching for a short concise explanation of what the empire was all about.

"It is a secular religion if you will," Thomas said, carefully choosing his words. "It is open to all, regardless of whether you believe in God or not... That's the beauty of it."
"But I heard somebody tell me it was nothing less than the Kingdom of God on Earth."
"And it is. But only to the Christians among us. The Fifth Empire is a place where everything is done according to the Golden Rule. And such a place is, by Frederico's definition, God's Kingdom on Earth. However, you do not have to be a Christian to accept the Golden Rule as your guiding principle, and hence, the Fifth Empire is open to everybody... I have to admit I find the idea kind of neat... very Christian... Inclusive... I think Jesus would have approved."
"You're Christian?" Bjorn asked, just to be sure of Thomas' position on the matter.
"No... And neither are you, are you?"
"No," Bjorn admitted. "Too much mumbo jumbo. Too much intolerance and narrow mindedness."
"Exactly... But Jesus did make a lot of sense, didn't he? With the Golden Rule and all that, I mean?"
"Sure. But the resurrection and the second coming and... You know... It makes no sense."
"No it doesn't. You're right."
"So, who is he casting in the role as Jesus in his Kingdom of God? Not himself by any chance?" Bjorn asked, suddenly remembering the connection between the second coming and the Kingdom of God.
"No, no. The guy claims that the second coming is a purely spiritual one... He actually has a throne in his church, and it is empty... And no one is allowed to sit in it... Not because it is reserved for Jesus when he comes in as if only away for a short visit to his father, but because the spirit of Jesus is already sitting on it."
"Well, that's kind of weird, isn't it?" Bjorn asked. "Isn't that a bit cultish, if you like?"
"Not as cultish as if Fredreico was sitting on the throne himself."
"No... That's true."
"And Frederico keeps stressing that the throne is purely symbolic. The idea is that a true Christian bows to no rules but those that conform with the Golden Rule. And it follows that anyone pretending to be a ruler over others is a fraud and an evil one to be avoided."
"Does it?"
"Sure! Remember, these are citizens of the empire. They do not want to be ruled over by others. They want to take full responsibility for their own lives. Anyone claiming authority over a citizen of the empire is by that very claim breaking the Golden Rule."

Bjorn nodded, not sure if Thomas' argument made sense or not. It had a circular feel to it. And the connection between the empire and God's Kingdom seemed suspect.

"So where does the spirit of the Portuguese come into all this?" Bjorn asked, not seeing a place for that part of the story now that the throne was occupied by another ghost.
"The Portuguese are Europe's gentle anarchists."
"They are?"
"According to Frederico, they are."
"Okay... And?"
"Well, that's a great way to describe a citizen of the empire, isn't it?"
"As a gentle anarchist?"
"Yes! A citizen bows to no one, and honours no rule that does not conform to the Golden Rule. Isn't that pretty much the definition of a gentle anarchist? "

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

100

Geir left the two men, clearly upset by Bjorn's apparent inability to recognize even the most glaring security issues, and there was for a moment an awkward silence between Thomas and Bjorn.

"So, I guess we should report this to Frank when he comes back," Thomas said with a sheepish grin, revealing that he too might have missed the glaringly obvious had someone told him about the boat service last night.
"I guess so," Bjorn said, also starting to grin.
"Why did you suddenly feel the urge to bring up this whole taxi thing?" Thomas asked. "The man was leaving. Why ask him about the taxi service?"

Bjorn took another bite of his sandwich, not quite sure himself why he felt it a good idea to bring it up.

"Well... We used to have this kind of services in Oslo too, you remember? Until right after the election when the government felt it necessary to show that they would be tough on crime, cracking down on all sorts of illegal activities, including the taxi services."
"Yeah?"
"And I was thinking that the crack down must have been just the sort of thing that Geir agrees with."
"And it probably is."
"Yet his colleagues were using it last night, to the great benefit of us all."
"And?"
"Well, don't you think that's a little hypocritical?"
"Sure. But do you think Geir is concerned about that?"
"No... You're probably right... He did avoid the question, though. Did you notice?"
"Yes, he did."
"So he can't be entirely happy about his double-think."
"I'm not sure. I think you might be reading too much into this."

Bjorn reached for the thermos in front of him. "More?" he asked, before pouring coffee into Thomas' cup and then his own.

"So why are you in the army if you are so against much of what the government does?" Bjorn asked.
"It was pretty much the only job vacancy I could find?" Thomas answered. "I used to be a car mechanic you know."
"Really? But there must be jobs to be found as a car mechanic. I mean... the crisis isn't that bad, is it?"
"Sure. But it isn't worth the bother anymore. Too much fuss."
"You think so?"
"Think? I know! There are so many rules and regulations these days. And if you don't do things right, they'll get you... I had a colleague who failed to properly warn against a worn wire, and he is now serving time for manslaughter."
"You're kidding?"
"No. The car he had signed off on as being safe to drive ended up in an accident, and when they discovered the mistake, he was nailed for it."
"But that's nuts."
"To you and me, maybe. But most people actually want this kind of law enforcement. It's all to the benefit of the consumer, they say. Consumer protection is the big thing in politics these days."
"Well, what isn't?" Bjorn asked rhetorically.

Thomas took a sip of his coffee before continuing on his rant.

"Well, anyway. Poor Nick going to jail and my boss getting a hefty fine was the end of it, both for my boss and for me, and all my colleagues too... My boss closed shop, and is now working as an assistant manager for one of the big guys... I think he actually makes more now than he was making as an independent."
"So it turned out all right for him in a way then?"
"If you think pushing papers around for a living is meaningful, or if money is all you care about, I guess you could say so... But poor Nick is still in jail. He'll be out in another three months though."

Thomas looked genuinely upset where he was sitting.

"But aren't the big guys hiring? And protecting their employees... I mean... Not all jobs at a car mechanic is paper work. How big a burden is it really?"
"Yes, but the real jobs are not very well paid. And you feel like a criminal charging insane amounts for even trivial things, like changing a light bulb... And you can't really escape the paper work. It's everywhere."
"But that's the way it always was," Bjorn commented, thinking back to his own career as a software engineer. "You can't really escape it."

Then Bjorn started talking about his own reason for joining the army, pointing out that it was pretty much the exact same reason that Thomas had outlined for himself. But in addition to the dreary bureaucracy of always having to keep track of everything, and always knowing that one was on line for any mistake, having to take full responsibility if anything bad should happen, Bjorn had the added dis-incentive of his perpetual debt to the tax man.

"They took pretty much everything," Bjorn said, not really expecting much sympathy on this latest point.
"They did?" Thomas asked, showing interest but no genuine compassion.
"It was my own silly fault for signing for the debt, though," Bjorn continued, parroting the narrative that he had constantly been presented with from both friends and bureaucrats. "I mean. If you sign an agreement to pay a certain amount, you're obliged to pay of course."
"Or go away," Thomas suggested.
"And that's pretty much what I did. I guess I'm here because I can't be bothered to make a real effort to pay my debt."
"And why should you?" Thomas asked rhetorically. "You were fooled."
"By myself... By my greed," Bjorn added, not really believing what he was saying.
"No... By the system, you fool," Thomas protested with a cynical smile. "You are here for the exact same reason I am here."

Then, with a dramatic gest, Thomas reached over and patted Bjorn on his shoulder. "Welcome, my friend," he said with a genuine yet ironic smile. "The empire is waiting for you."

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

99

Bjorn carved several slices of his favourite cheese, making a sandwich for himself, when a thought struck him about Geir's presence.

"This is the first time I've seen you in the kitchen, I think," Bjorn said semi-curious about Geir's habits at the checkpoint.
"That's right," Geir answered with a smile. "I'm always in the glass cage when you have dinner. But I'm not very fond of hot food... Prefer sandwiches, really."
"You do?"
"Yeah!"
"So you will not be joining us for dinner on this your day off?"
"No... I don't think so."
"You're missing out on some really nice food," Thomas commented. "Ante is a great cook."
"You think he'll be up in time to make dinner?" Bjorn asked.
"Oh yeah... He'll be up before noon."

Bjorn finished making his ham and cheese with his two colleagues watching him in silence.

"That looks good," Geir commented as Bjorn took a greedy bite out of his creation.
"It is!" Bjorn said with a mouthful of bread.
"You see, there's plenty of good sandwiches to be made too... I'd prefer that one you've just made to a hot meal any time."
"Well, I'm not sharing this one with you if that's what you're driving at."
"No, no, of course not... That's not my point."
"I know," Bjorn said with a smile.

There was again a spell of silence among the three colleagues, and Geir was just about to take the opportunity to leave the table when Bjorn suddenly tossed out a question regarding the subsidized cheese he was eating.

"So what do you think about the export subsidies?" Bjorn asked genuinely curious about his colleagues' opinion on the matter.
"On the cheese, you mean?" Geir asked.
"Yeah."
"So Ante has been telling you about it too?"
"It's his favourite piece of trivia fact, I think," Thomas answered on Bjorn's behalf.
"Well, I think it makes a lot of sense," Geir answered. "It's good for the country."
"Really?" Thomas asked sceptically. "In what way?"
"It helps the farmers," Geir explained. "Keeps them in business."
"At everybody else's expense," Thomas added dryly.
"Well, the alternative would be a lot of abandoned farms all over the country... And that would clearly be a bad thing."
"But don't you think it a bit immoral that people are forced to pay for cheese that is sold to foreigners in far away places?"
"Not, considering the alternative."
"I'm sure the farmers can find other things to grow," Thomas said, getting a little irritated with Geir.
"So, now you're suddenly an expert on farming?" Geir asked, sensing a victory coming his way. "I think the farmers and the people in the Department of Agriculture know this better than either you or me, Thomas."
"But that does not make it right," Thomas said, leaning back in his chair and throwing up his arms.

"Well!" Bjorn said with some amazement. He had not expected something as trivial as cheese subsidies to touch such a nerve with Thomas. Then, deciding to put a positive spin on it all in order to defuse the tension he remarked that the subsidies, at the very least, were to the advantage to everyone at the checkpoint.

"We wouldn't be eating nearly as well if it wasn't for our proximity to Lundby," Bjorn said with a smile.
"You're right about that," Thomas said with a nod. "But I still think... Well... Never mind."

Thomas took a sip of his coffee, making an effort to calm down, and Geir sat again up in his chair, ready to leave.

"Well, I'll see you guys later then," Geir said, rising from the table. "I'll be in my room if you need me... you know... regarding the world and stuff."
"Okay," Bjorn answered. "We'll keep that in mind."

Then, as Geir was leaving the room, Bjorn tossed out another question.

"And what do you think about the taxi service down there?" he asked.
"I'd hardly call Igor's car a taxi," Geir said, turning and looking over at Thomas. "It's a rusty old Volvo, isn't it?"
"Well... It got us home last night," Thomas said with no intention to get into another argument.
"Did you know that they even have boat taxies going to Kirkenes, right from the harbour."
"What harbour?" Geir asked, suddenly looking concerned.
"Down by the fish factory... Next to it."
"Really?"
"Yep! Some kids from Kirkenes came in with their boats last night."
"But that's terrible!" Geir exclaimed, clearly upset by what he had just heard.
"How?"
"Well... My God Bjorn... What planet are you from?"
"Planet?"
"You're a boarder guard for heaven's sake."
"So?"
"An unregulated taxi service to Kirkenes? Hello! That's a giant hole in our fence right there, and you didn't see it?"

Bjorn was suddenly speechless from embarrassment. Geir was right. He had learned of a giant hole in the border control, and the obvious problem with this had not occurred to him.

"Well, I sure hope Frank returns soon, because this needs to be reported back to Oslo immediately," Geir said, now being the one fuming with frustration.

Monday, July 14, 2014

98

Bjorn stepped out of bed determined to drive the ghost of his final dream out and away. And by opening the curtains he did just that. It was snowing, and the sight came as a big surprise to him since the sky had been clear and cloudless all night long.

Every little green patch that had been uncovered by the mild weather over the last couple of days were once again covered, and the thick snow drift made everything once again appear completely colourless, as if the landscape was some sort of black and white image. But the sight was refreshingly bright in its sombre greyness, and as far as his dream was concerned, it did the trick. Gone was the uncomfortable feeling at the pit of his stomach, and had it not been for a light hangover, he would have felt just fine.

Gone too was the claustrophobic sense that the barracks was some sort of soulless monster. Sounds of his colleagues coming home during the night, and the occasional sound of a voice in the corridor, and people walking about, had put life back into his immediate surroundings.

Bjorn's morning routine went without incident, and once back in his uniform, and with his hand gun strapped to his side, he felt positively eager to go down and meet his colleagues chatting in the kitchen. Grabbing the paper copy of the Gazette and the leaflet explaining the stall owners' position on their conflict with Pedro, Bjorn walked down the stairs and into the living room where he dropped off the reading material before going over to the kitchen where Bjorn was greeted by Thomas and Geir who were sitting over at the far end of the dining table.

"Good morning!" Thomas said with a smile. "How do you feel?"
"Fine thank you," Bjorn answered, not feeling like mentioning his light hangover. "Where's everybody? I was sure I heard more voices than just the two of you."
"That must have been John... He just left for bed. You just missed him... And Espen was here too, but he's now in the glass cage."

Bjorn grabbed a plate, a cup, a glass and a knife for himself before sitting down with the two men. The table was set with bread and spreads, a carton of juice and a thermos with coffee. But there was no sign of Ante's signature breakfast. No eggs, no bacon and no freshly cut fruit.

"So where is Ante?" Bjorn asked, curious to hear what Thomas and his other colleagues had been up to in the village after he left.
"Well, as I told Geir just now, he got completely smashed by the end of the night, and we ended up taking a taxi back here. He was in no state to drive, and neither were anyone else."
"And who was your driver? Not Igor by any chance?"
"Well, actually yes. And you should have seen Ante making a fool of himself, praising Igor for his fine driving. He gets so sentimental when he gets drunk."
"So he is up sleeping off his hangover?"
"Yeah, just like every time we've been out with him."

Bjorn poured himself some juice, and out of politeness to Geir he asked him if things had gone smoothly during the night.

"Sure!" Geir answered, trying to come across as important. "Not much happening... But we can't all be out partying, you know."
"No, that's true," Bjorn answered sincerely. "Very generous of you and John to have taken the whole night watch yesterday."
"Yeah, we really appreciate it," Thomas added. "But one of these days, you should really go down and experience the nightlife yourself. It will give you a different perspective on the place."
"I don't know..." Geir said hesitantly, clearly a little uncomfortable with the gentle persuasion. "Some of us have to watch this place too, you know."
"I can stay here every now and again," Thomas suggested. "I don't have to go down every weekend."
"Really?" Geir asked. "Well... I'll think about it... But if Frank turns up in a body bag, I'm sure as hell not going down there on anything but business."

Bjorn looked at Thomas, confused by Geir's last remark.

"Well... I'm sure he's fine," Thomas answered with a smile. Then turning to Bjorn, he explained that Frank had suddenly disappeared completely, and that Espen, Ante and himself had given up finding him by the time they drove back to the checkpoint with Igor.

"So you just left him there?" Bjorn asked in disbelief.
"What could we do? It was six o'clock, the casino was closing, and we were kicked out... We brought his jacket with us though."
"Oh... That's good of you... So he might be roaming around in this weather without his jacket?"
"We're pretty sure he's safely in bed with one of those girls he was dancing with," Thomas retorted. "And what good would his jacket be if he can't get hold of it anyway?"

Bjorn shook his head. Then pouring some coffee for himself, he started chuckling. "So Romeo has been out sleeping with the enemy, has he?"
"That was our assessment too," Thomas said with a sly smile before taking a sip of his coffee.

Friday, July 11, 2014

97

Stepping into the brightly lit hallway of the barracks was almost like stepping into another world, entirely separate from Lundby. The white soulless light was depressing in its intensity, and the stuffy air, scented by the freshly cut spruce panels that covered most of the interior walls, only added to the clinical ambiance of the place.

The empty silence that seemed to have penetrated right into the woodwork was bordering on spooky, and once again he had a start seeing his reflexion in the window as he entered his room. He turned on the TV, only to have images of bombed out houses in a far away land tossed at him, and he turned it off again immediately, drawing the curtains instead and getting ready for bed. And coming back from a short visit to the bathroom, he felt a great relief as he crept into bed.

Bjorn turned off the light and closed his eyes determined not to have his sudden spell of anxiety ruin the evening which had been so full of pleasant and interesting little events. And to his relief, the anxiety soon left him. He was once again among people in Lundby, with Aung advising him on Nora's menu, Ante smiling from ear to ear, and Frank showing off.

Every little detail of his night out came flashing back to him as he slept lightly but contently well into the morning, and had it not been for an uncomfortable dream during his final slumber, his rest would have had him wake up full of energy and hope for the day. But his final dream spoiled it for him, making him once again wake up with an ugly feeling that he was in fact lost, and hopelessly so.

This time it was his two children who appeared out of nowhere in his room, asking him why he wasn't at home.

"Why are you here?" they asked.
"Well, I'm on an important mission," Bjorn explained to them.
"To do what?"
"To find out about this place," Bjorn explained, feeling pleased with himself that he had such a ready answer to the question that had left him speechless so many times before.
"But we are missing you," his daughter said, at the verge of crying.
"I miss you too," Bjorn said, and he felt an intense sense of longing as he said this.
"So why don't you do it?" his little boy asked.
"Do what?"
"It... Do it for us!" his daughter said with a tear rolling down her cheek.

And Bjorn was again lost for words. He was missing something essential. And he had no idea what it was. He asked them again what it was that he should do, but they were fading away as he spoke, and he woke up with a start feeling both hung over and anxious, and desperate to get out of bed.

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

96

Bjorn was initially under the impression that Olga was running some sort of big enterprise, but it soon became clear to him that she had barely started her business, and it wouldn't surprise him if most of the stuff made by her partners over in Nikel was simply shipped to Lundby by regular mail. Her network of collaborators, as Igor called it, consisted of herself and a couple of friends, and the whole enterprise was barely able to produce enough stuffed animals for the vendors in Lundby, in addition to a few T-shirts and some underwear prototypes.

Igor and his wife were simply a desperate couple in search of work, and they had somehow ended up in Lundby for the simple reason that this was a place where there still was work to be found. However, there was definitely something to Olga's vision of a sewing collective, and she was clearly in the process of setting up something that might at some point grow into something big. Her biggest hope was at the moment centred around a pilot project for an up market lingerie company headquartered in Paris, but she was also busy looking into other ways to make money.

Not only did she sew a lot herself, she also provided courses for people wanting to learn. And many had evidently caught onto Olga's vision of semi independent living through her collective, at least if there was any hold in what Igor was describing. People were willing to part with as much as fifty MG for a single hour of one on one training with Igor's wife.

Bjorn listened with interest as Igor expanded on Olga's dream with hope and enthusiasm. He was clearly convinced that his wife was about to make it big, and Bjorn could not help sharing in his enthusiasm. The Russian couple might be poor and desperate, but they were full of hope for the future, and the feeling was contagious.

Then, as they approached the checkpoint, Igor stopped talking. He slowed down while rolling down his window, coming to a complete stop in front of the glass cage.

"I'm dropping off your colleague!" Igor said pointing with a thumb at Bjorn in the back seat.
"Okay," John replied, lifting the barrier as soon as he caught sight of Bjorn. "What about the others?"
"They are still at the casino," Bjorn explained, leaning forward to talk out of Igor's window.
"Okay... So they are coming up later?"
"Another few hours at least," Bjorn explained, leaning even more forward as Igor slowly set the car in motion.

Bjorn picked a fifty MG chip out of his pocket. Then, as Igor stopped the car squarely in front of the entrance to the barracks, he handed the chip over to him.

"Keep the change, and good luck to you both!" Bjorn said with heartfelt sincerity as he stepped out of the car.
"Thanks, and good night," Igor replied with a smile. "Give my regards to Ante, will you?"
"I will!" Bjorn answered, giving Igor a friendly wave of the hand as he set his car back in motion.

Tuesday, July 8, 2014

95

Bjorn walked up to the car that had stopped in front of the casino entrance. It was an old rusty Volvo, and there was no sign of it being a taxi. However, Bjorn was used to these kind of unregulated services from Oslo where illegal cab services had been quite commonplace until the new government had made a point of shutting them down, and when Bjorn learned that they had a taxi service in Lundby, this was exactly the sort of thing he had expected.

"I´m going to the checkpoint up the Neiden road," Bjorn said to the driver, who he immediately recognized as the driver of Pingo's grocery van.
"That will be forty MG," the driver said with a smile, apparently recognizing Bjorn from their brief exchange up at the checkpoint the day before.

"Well, that's practically nothing," Bjorn thought to himself as he stepped into the back seat of the old car. Then, while buckling up he commented on how he keeps bumping into the same people over and over.

"Well, that's because Lundby is a village," the man said before putting the car in motion. "We're only a few hundred people all together... I'm Igor by the way. And you must be the new guy up at the checkpoint... Bjorn, right?"
"That's correct," Bjorn answered, surprised to hear him say his name. "How do you know."
"Ante told me... Made excuses for you making yourself difficult up there."
"And Ante told you my name?"
"Well, I asked him about your name. I like knowing the names of everybody... It's a thing. A hobby if you like."

Bjorn looked out at the moonlit surroundings as the car drove up the road to the construction site, and noticing a shimmer of dawn to the east, Bjorn checked his watch.

"Kind of early for the sun to be rising," Bjorn commented as Igor turned east, towards the deep red glow.
"Well, this is the arctic," Igor said. "Another five weeks and we will have midnight sun... Besides, we are much further east than most people realize, so morning comes early."

Bjorn felt strangely happy where he was sitting, and the big Russian driving the car fascinated him.

"So, where are you from?" Bjorn asked, hoping to start a conversation.
"I´m from Nikel, just across the border."
"And what brings you to Lundby? You're not asking for asylum, are you?"
"Oh no!" the Russian replied. "That would be stupid."
"Why?"
"Well, you would not let me out again, would you?"
"No, that's true," Bjorn conceded.

Igor had a good point. Anyone asking for asylum would immediately have their passport withheld, and without a passport there's no way to get out of Lundby. Besides, Russia was, as far a he knew, not on the list of places considered dangerous enough for people to qualify for asylum, so he would probably not be taken seriously even if he had applied. But Bjorn had no time to dwell on this as Igor happily continued the conversation.

"I'm here to make some money," Igor explained. "There's no work to be found in Nikel these days, and Kirkenes is just as bad."
"It's the crisis, isn't it?" Bjorn asked rhetorically.
"Sure is. Things are getting pretty desperate."
"But isn't it terribly difficult to find work here in Lundby too?" Bjorn asked. "I mean... Ane at the fish factory is paying a lousy hundred MG per day to her workers. That's saying something, isn't it?"
"Ane is a crook!" Igor said with contempt. "But she won't be able to keep her racket going for long."
"No? Why not?"
"People will find other things to do."
"Like what?"
"Well, I'm not working for her, am I?"
"No, but not everyone can work for Pingo."
"But everyone can start their own business if they like."
"Doing what?" Bjorn asked. "This is the arctic. There's nothing here but rocks and ice."

Igor smiled as if he was harbouring a secret.

"They could make little toy animals to sell to tourists for instance," Igor said casually. "Or T-shirts with popular slogans on them, or underwear to be exported all over the world."
"And does that pay any better?" Bjorn asked.
"It does," Igor answered with a big smile.
"How do you know?"
"Because my wife runs a cooperative making these kind of things."
"She does?"
"Yep!"
"And what does she pay her workers?" Bjorn asked.
"Nothing... She only pays them for what they produce. But if you got a sewing machine, and you're good at what you do you can easily make three times as much as what Ane offers her workers."
"But what if you don't have a sewing machine? Or if you have one, but aren't very good at using it?"
"Well, then of course, you´ll have to find some other kind of work."
"Then you're screwed?" Bjorn asked.
"No. Even then there are better jobs to be found than to work for Ane. Heck... I know house maids who make more money than Ane's workers."
"So why are people still working for her?"
"Beats me."
"She's locking them in, isn't she?"
"No! I don't think so... That would be illegal. And everyone would know by now."

Bjorn had been getting so used to thinking of Lundby as a place where everything goes that he found Igor's use of the word "illegal" almost misplaced in the whole conversation.

"Illegal?" Bjorn asked, unable to formulate a good question around the term.
"As in against the law," Igor explained, as if unsure if Bjorn was struggling with his English.
"What law?" Bjorn asked.
"The legal code here in Lundby."
"There is such a thing?" Bjorn asked, genuinely surprised.
"Yeah, sure."
"And who's in charge of it?"
"Who?" Igor asked, as if he had not thought of this question before. "Everyone, I guess."
"Everyone is a lawyer?"

Igor chuckled at Bjorn's genuine puzzlement.

"I know what you're thinking," Igor said while suddenly slowing down to avoid a couple of particularly deep potholes that he evidently knew the exact location of from having driven along the road many times before. "But it's quite simple to explain, really."
"So, go ahead, educate me!" Bjorn said, challenging the man to give him a quick introduction to Lundby's legal code.
"Well, we basically stop dealing with people who don't behave," Igor explained. "If you steal or hit or imprison people, you'll soon find yourself without any friends."
"But how does that prevent people from behaving badly?"
"Well, how well do you think you would be doing without anyone wanting to do any business with you?"
"Not very well, I guess. But what if people decided to gang up on me?"
"And why would anyone want to do that?"
"I don't know. To get some kind of advantage over me maybe."
"Like what?"

Bjorn could find no answer.

"So you basically isolate people who behave badly?" Bjorn asked, not at all convinced that this qualified as a legal code.
"Yep, that's about it."
"And do you have any objective criteria for what it means to behave badly?"
"No, not really... There's always the golden rule of course."
"And that's your legal code?"
"Yep... That's all you need to know."

Bjorn shook his head in disbelief. Then, tired of the subject, Bjorn returned to what Igor had mentioned about his wife.

"So your wife runs a clothing factory here in Lundby?" Bjorn asked.
"Not a factory exactly," Igor corrected. "She runs the business from here, but many of her workers actually live in Nikel, and do all their work over there... They all work from home."
"Really? So why are you her? Wouldn't it make more sense to run it from Nikel?"
"You would think so, wouldn't you?" Igor answered. "But there is so much red tape, and they will tax you even before you make a profit. They are ruthless."
"So your wife is here to avoid taxes."
"And all the paper work they force her to do. If it was only the taxes, I think Olga might have put up with it. But all those taxes comes with so much paper work. It's just too much... And now that we got Lundby, why even bother."
"But the authorities over in Nikel can't be too pleased with this?" Bjorn asked.
"Actually... They are turning a blind eye to this at the moment... They know that if they clamp down on this, they will only spark resentment... And since there's no factory or headquarter to crack down on, it's hard for them to even start controlling this, short of going door to door to see if anyone is sewing stuff."
"But your wife runs a headquarter of sorts, doesn't she?"
"Yes she does. That's why she's here and not in Nikel. She organizes everything via the internet. The girls come to her to deliver their finished products and pick up new assignments. Olga and I haven't been back to Nikel since we left two months ago."
"And how do the girls bypass the border patrols? Why aren't they stopped at the border with their bags full of stuffed animals and underwear?"
"Well, that's one of Olga's little secrets, and I'm not going to share that with you. You are a border guard, after all."

Monday, July 7, 2014

94

Back inside the casino everything seemed louder and more intense than when he left, and Bjorn felt again a relief from knowing that he would not have to hang around there waiting for his colleagues. He was on his way back to the checkpoint, and all he had to do was to tell his colleagues that he had found himself a taxi.

"I haven't seen Frank anywhere," Bjorn told Ante as he reached their table.
"We know," Ante answered with a smile.
"Really?"
"Yeah, he appeared out of nowhere, and now he's out on the dance floor."

Bjorn turned around to see if he could see him, and there he was showing off to two girls as if he was some sort of gift to women. The girls on their side were more than happy to indulge him, but the dance floor was so crowded that it was hard to say if they were girls who just happened to enjoy his clownish behaviour, or if they were in fact impressed by his slick appearance.

"He is not exactly hiding his gun, is he?" Bjorn said as he turned back to Ante.
"No, he's not... He clearly thinks of it as a great girl magnet."
"And it seems to be working, doesn't it?"
"That, and his gold card."
"He's showing that off too?"
"Waves it about every time he's buying a drink."
"What a clown!"

Ante smiled, and nodded in the direction of Thomas and Espen sitting at the other side of the table, engaged in conversation with an attractive blond girl. "But we're not complaining," Ante added. "He's like a honey pot the way he attracts the flies."

Bjorn looked at Ante with a frown, finding his statement a little too indiscrete. "Oh... Don't you worry," Ante said with a smile. "They are all Russians. They hardly know a word of Norwegian."

Still, Bjorn found Ante a bit out of line with his derogatory comment and promptly switched the conversation to his latest discovery.

"They got taxies here in Lundby, did you know?" Bjorn proclaimed proudly.
"Really?"
"Yeah! The bouncers at the door will get you one if you need one, and I've ordered one for myself."
"You're leaving?"
"Yeah."
"All ready?"

Bjorn shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I'm an old guy I guess," he said, partly to prevent Ante from being the first to bring up his age.
"You're not that old," Ante protested. "Come on, why don't you stay. The party has just started."

Bjorn was happy to hear Ante's protest, but he had made up his mind, and the taxi was already ordered, so he excused himself, fending off Ante's protests, and headed back to the exit. He walked briskly out of the large room, noticing on his way that Jan was standing by the table where drugs were traded openly to anyone who cared to buy some. Jan was clearly engaged in some sort of business discussion, and it struck Bjorn as odd that this man who seemed to welcome both druggies and prostitutes to his establishment was at the same time a patron of the church charity, and also enforcing strict anti smoking rules on his premises. It made absolutely no sense. But at the same time, there was something refreshingly eccentric about these inconsistent rules, and it put a smile on his face.

Stepping once again out into the cold night air, Bjorn was told by the bouncer that his car would arrive in about five minutes. "Just enough time to have a cigarette," Bjorn answered, letting the bouncer know that he would be standing over by the paraffin heaters having a smoke while waiting.

The bouncer nodded silently, and Bjorn went over to the designated smokers' area to have his cigarette. There were several other people standing there, and some were sitting in the chairs that had been put outside with woolly blankets for the guests to cover up while having their smoke. But there were no familiar faces among the smokers, and Bjorn was no longer in any mood to start a conversation, so he smoked his cigarette in silence, looking idly over at the market, the church up the hill, the moon, and the people coming and going.

Then, just as he finished his cigarette, a car pulled up to the curb, and the bouncer signalled to Bjorn that this was his taxi.

Friday, July 4, 2014

93

The sense of relief that Bjorn felt on learning that he could in fact get a car to get him back to the checkpoint was surprisingly strong, and he thanked the security officer wholeheartedly for the tip. Suddenly, Bjorn had gone from being more or less trapped in Lundby to being completely free to get back to his bed without having to wait for his colleagues, and this made everything suddenly seem so much better. "What a great place this is!" Bjorn thought to himself as he crossed the street, heading directly for one of the bouncers.

"Hi! Is it true that you can help me get home?" Bjorn asked, deliberately formulating his question in an open and nonspecific way to let the bouncer make recommendations himself.
"Depends where you live," the bouncer answered. "If you're from Neiden, you're stuck."
"How about Kirkenes?" Bjorn asked, curious to hear what kind of services were available.
"Then, you might have a chance."
"Really?"
"Yeah, there are two boats going in that direction. You'll find them over by the fish factory... Kids from Kirkenes who've come over to buy cheap stuff and make a few bucks ferrying people home."
"That's a good idea!"
"It sure is. Who needs the ferry over at the port when you can get a boat directly from here?"
"True!"

The bouncer who had answered Bjorn without loosing sight of the guests coming and going, suddenly stepped forward to stop a beggar from harassing a couple of smokers.

"No begging here!" the bouncer said firmly. "If you need help, go up to the church. They run a charity."
"They are closed," the beggar protested.
"No, they are not. But even so, you can't go around hassling people here."
"Give me a break, will you."
"Not here I won't. Off you go!"

The beggar shrugged his shoulders and left, crossing the street back to the market where he came from. But even before the beggar reached the market, the Lance security officer was heading towards him, clearly prepared to send him away from the market too.

"I'm sorry about that," the bouncer said politely to the smokers who had followed the brief exchange with some discomfort. "But there is really no need for people to go around begging in this village. There are plenty of jobs for everyone."

The smokers thanked the bouncer for his intervention, but gave clear indication that they would not have minded giving the poor guy some spare change. However, the bouncer shook his head, telling them that such charity is better given to the church where they have a program to take care of the poor.

"You see that box over there?" the bouncer said, pointing to an old fashion collection box, clearly taken right out of the church. "Put whatever you would have liked to give to the beggar into it, and it will find its way to the right people."
"You think so?" one of the smokers asked sceptically. "More likely to end up being spent by some fat cat, I'd say."
The bouncer smiled politely. "Well, it's the charity that Jan supports, and he's not known for giving money away to fat cats."

"So Jan is a friend of Frederico?" Bjorn asked as he followed the bouncer back to his station by the door.
"A friend from college, I believe," the bouncer answered, still not paying much attention to Bjorn.

Bjorn found it interesting how everyone seemed to know everyone in the village, but did not pursue the thought. Instead he asked the question he had originally intended to ask.

"So you need a car?" the bouncer asked a little annoyed by Bjorn's continued presence. "Why didn't you say that right away?"
"To the checkpoint," Bjorn explained, ignoring the bouncer's rhetorical question.
"At the port?"
"No! Up the Lundby Neiden road."
"Okay," the bouncer answered, fishing out his smart phone from his pocket. "You need it now?"
"Can you give me ten minutes, I'll have to say goodbye to my buddies inside."
"Sure, go ahead, I'll get you a car."
"What will it cost me? Do you know?"
"It's sixty MG to the port, so it will be less than that."
"Less than sixty! Well, that's not much is it?"
"Not to you maybe, but it is to us," the bouncer answered with a polite smile.

Thursday, July 3, 2014

92

Bjorn was in no hurry to get back to his colleagues in the casino, but the cold was getting to him, so he did not feel like hanging around outside for much longer either. What he really wanted was simply to get back to the checkpoint and into bed, and once this thought settled with him he immediately started looking around for a taxi.

But there was no taxi to be seen, and Bjorn quickly realized that the village was way too small to support its own taxi operator. He was in other words stuck in the village until his colleagues too felt like going back to the barracks, and he felt a sting of resentment towards them for it having to be this way. However, he quickly supressed this feeling, telling himself that it really was him who was the odd one out, and that he had no reason to feel any kind of resentment towards his colleagues who had been nothing but kind towards him.

Bjorn finished his baguette and tossed its paper wrapping in a make shift garbage bin. Then, taking a last wide look of the market, he made up his mind to go back in and join the others in whatever conversation they were having. But just as he was about to pace quickly over to the casino, he caught sight of the security officer that had stopped him and his colleagues over at Nora's place, and seeing that the security officer looked rather idle where he was standing, Bjorn decided to ask him how things went after their last meeting.

The security officer recognized Bjorn from their earlier meeting, and was happy to answer his question.

"I have no idea what they were up to," he explained. "The kids I mean... But I told them to go back home, and I haven't seen them around since."
Bjorn nodded. Then,  hoping to start a conversation Bjorn asked about the kids roaming around with no apparent purpose.
"Yeah, it is a problem. But many of them are finding useful things to do," the security officer explained.
"Like carrying groceries for people?" Bjorn suggested, thinking of his own experience over at Pingo.
"Yes, and other things too. Many of those dolls over there have been made by kids," the officer explained, pointing to the stall with the fluffy animals.
"Child labour?" Bjorn asked rhetorically.
"Yes, but it beats having them roaming the streets."

Bjorn was again shocked to learn about the hard reality of life in Lundby, but kept it to himself. And seen from the perspective of the security officer, having the kids locked up in factories all day must indeed be a good thing, so he simply nodded in agreement.

"And how are things going regarding the ongoing conflict with the stall owners?" Bjorn asked, curious to hear what this representative for Pedro was making of it.
"Not very good, I'm afraid," the man commented honestly. "They are pushing very hard for right out annexation."
"And you are just going to let it happen?"
"There's not really all that much we can do at the moment," the man continued, surprisingly open about the whole thing. "They are armed, so it is not like we can simply push them aside."
"And they outnumber you too, don't they?"
"Sure do! About twenty to one. Not the sort of odds you want to operate with."

Bjorn looked around, as if assessing the man's odds in a gun fight. Not that it was necessary in order to agree with the man's assessment, but more to get a full perspective on the hopelessness of Pedro's position.

"So, Pedro is going to give in to their demands?" Bjorn asked.
"No. But he isn't going to resolve this through brute force," the man explained. "It's not the way he does things, and it would be suicidal anyway. You won't see me opening any shots against these guys, and I don't think anyone else would be crazy enough to do that either."

The security officer looked over at one of the stall owners, giving him a friendly nod.

"So you are friendly with these guys?" Bjorn asked puzzled.
"Sure, I'm patrolling the square and the rest of the neighbourhood, and they appreciate that of course."
"And they are paying for that?"
"No, they aren't. But this is the centre of the village, and could easily become the centre of petty theft and thievery. Our clients are mainly people living in this area, and they are naturally interested in things being safe and orderly."
"And it does not hurt establishing a presence here in the village square either?" Bjorn suggested cheekily.
"Of course not."
"And the stall owners are fine with that?"
"Yes and no... They were sceptical to start with, but I think they appreciate my presence now. There is less petty thievery going on now after I've started patrolling this place."

Bjorn looked around again. The place looked peaceful and safe, and the teenagers who had previously roamed the place were indeed a good deal fewer.

"And the petty thieves aren't just doing their thievery other places while you are patrolling this place?" Bjorn asked.
"No... That's not how it works. The kids have started to look for alternative things to do. Crime has a tendency to stop once it does not pay to be a criminal."
"You're right," Bjorn agreed. "And I guess they risk getting shot if they try to break into any of those houses around here."
"Indeed, they do."

Bjorn could relate to the simple logic presented by the security officer. It resonated with his view of the world, and he felt a certain pride in being occupied in the same sort of business as the man in front of him. Bjorn too was an officer of the law. He too was occupied in the business of keeping the bad guys under control, and promoting peace and prosperity by forcing the would be thieves to find better things to do than to steal from people.

And on this happy note, Bjorn was again struck by a desire to return to the barracks. To get some well deserved rest. To celebrate, as it were, his return to society as a useful and productive member.

"There aren't any taxis in this place by any chance?" Bjorn asked, fully expecting the answer to be negative.
"Sure... Not taxis exactly... But those guys over there can get a car for you if you need one," the officer answered, pointing to Jan's two bouncers over at the casino.

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

91

Bjorn took a deep breath of air. He looked up at the moon, and then over at the church. Then a thought struck him. "That, of course, is the source of all this Fifth Empire talk," he thought. "That's no ordinary church... Newly painted and flood lighted... No shortage of money in other words... A sure sign of a cult.... That's not a church at all. It must be the temple of that Fifth Empire cult."

And pleased with his reasoning, Bjorn looked around for someone to casually ask about the church, and catching sight of Peter, the sandwich guy, he walked over to him as if he already knew him quite well.

"So Peter, who's running that church up there?" Bjorn asked, while looking over at the baguettes in front of him.
"You mean the Church of the Golden Rule?" Peter asked, looking over his shoulder as if to make sure it was still there.
"Yeah... The Church of the Golden Rule," Bjorn reiterated as if he had known the name of the church for some time.
"That's Frederico's church," Peter explained. "He's Brazilian."

Bjorn nodded thoughtfully.

"Third generation German," Peter continued helpfully. "All his ancestors emigrated to Brazil in the mid nineteen forties."
"So! How do you know that?"
"He keeps talking about it. He uses it as an example to explain the concept of original sin."

Bjorn picked up a baguette. "I'll take this one," he said, handing Peter a token which Peter reflexively held up to the light of the nearest paraffin lamp to make a quick check for its authenticity. Then, after receiving his change, Bjorn continued his questioning.

"So you've been to his sermons?" Bjorn asked casually.
"Sure! They are very good!"
"Really?"
"Yeah, I think he really nails it. They are really worth going to... And there's always this singing and dancing too. Very entertaining!"
"Singing and dancing?" Bjorn asked, a little surprised.
"Yeah... You know the sort of stuff they are into over in the US and Brazil..."
"Evangelicals?"
"Yes, that's the word. His church is one of those evangelical ones. Very close to God. No Pope or Patriarch or any of that hierarchical stuff. Just everyone directly talking to God. It's great!"

Bjorn took a bite of his baguette before asking the question he was itching to ask.

"And this Frederico is the one talking about the Fifth Empire all the time, isn't he?"
"So you have heard about it?" Peter asked with a smile.
"Yeah... Everybody seems to be talking about it."
"Well, that's great news. I'm sure Frederico will be delighted to hear that."
"So he's the one?" Bjorn asked, pleased to have his suspicion confirmed.
"Sure... But he did not invent it, if that's what you think."
"No?"
"No! The empire goes way back. It has no beginning and no end. It is eternal."
"The kingdom of God in other words?" Bjorn asked, checking to see if that idea too originated with Frederico.
"Exactly!" Peter answered, smiling even broader. "The Fifth Empire is the kingdom of God on earth. That's basically it. Once you realize that, you'll never view the world the same way again."

Bjorn half expected Peter to try to convert him at this stage, but Peter did not follow up on his explanation. Instead there was a silence while Bjorn downed some more of his baguette while looking over the crammed table that served as Peter's stall. There were several piles of different types of sandwiches and baguettes, and there were thermoses with different types of drinks, as well as two big coolers under the table, full of soft drinks and beer.

Peter had moved his cigarettes and magazines that previously occupied one end his stall onto an abandoned table next to his which made his stall a little less crowded than it would otherwise have been. And this made Bjorn wonder what happened to the owner of the stall that Peter was expanding onto. So, after letting Peter serve a young Norwegian couple, Bjorn asked him about this.

"We haven't seen him since Wednesday," Peter explained, pointing out the fact that the stall owner at the other end of the abandoned stall was expanding onto the empty table from his end too.
"Well, that's kind of convenient for you, isn't it?" Bjorn asked. "The extra space must come in handy."
"It sure does. I regret not having put up a bigger stall while I had the chance."
"But there's plenty of room. It's not like the whole village square is fully occupied."
"Yeah, but this spot is right in the middle, and I'd like to keep it that way. I don't want to let a competitor take over this spot."
"And your neighbour is gone with no trace?" Bjorn asked. "Have you tried to contact him?"
"Yes, we have, but he is not answering our calls."
"Strange..."
"But he was struggling, though. I think he might have given up. Poor guy, a Russian from Nikel... He was trying to sell those wooden dolls, and Russian looking stuff... Completely missed the market...
I don't think we'll see him back here ever again."

Bjorn nodded thoughtfully as he listened to Peter. Then, asking Peter for permission, Bjorn grabbed the latest copy of the Gazette, and wishing Peter the best of luck on his business expansion, he headed back in the direction of the casino.