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Friday, January 30, 2015

172

There was a moment of awkward silence in the kitchen as the implication of Thomas' confession was sinking in. He had said what everybody must have sensed for a while. But the mention of it had nevertheless come as a shock. And Bjorn, admitting that he too had no idea why he had been selected above all the other applicants for the job he was holding, did not help the situation. There was something not quite right about the checkpoint, and everybody knew it.

Frank scratched his neck nervously. Then he broke the silence. Completely ignoring Thomas' remark, and pretending not to have heard Bjorn's response, Frank started to lay out the new rules for the checkpoint, as prescribed by their superiors in Oslo.

Lundby was from now on going to be classified as a tax free zone, a giant airport as it were, which meant that the checkpoints would from now on act as the customs offices at international airports. And this in turn meant that everyone entering the colony would have to show their passport. Furthermore, to combat crime and smuggling, every passport must be scanned both on entering and on leaving the colony. That way, there would be no problem monitoring the traffic, making sure that criminals don't enter or leave the colony. Keeping track of how long each person has been in the colony would also be easy that way, a useful feature considering that the right to a tax free quota only applied to people spending at least twenty four hours in the colony.

However, since the scanner required had yet to arrive, the passport numbers would have to be typed in by hand, and Frank handed Bjorn a piece of paper containing a web address with a user name and password.

"You have your own laptop I take it?" Frank asked as he handed the piece of paper to Bjorn.
"Yes, I do," Bjorn answered.
"And you're fine with using it for now?"
"Sure."
"And that goes for all you others as well," Frank continued, looking at everybody around the table before returning his focus to Bjorn. "If you just leave that note in the glass cage for everybody else to use, we'll all be using our own lap tops until we get the scanner."

Frank paused for a moment to let his instructions sink in. Then he continued by letting everybody know that the new rules would only come into full effect the next day.

"We will only be warning people of the new rules. However, we will start recording passport numbers, and we will have to detain any criminals that may try to enter or escape the colony," Frank continued. "The database will tell us if we are dealing with a criminal, so we don't need to memorize a long list of faces. However, the website contains a searchable blacklist of people wanted by the state, and it may be a good idea to memorize the faces of the most dangerous ones on that list."

Bjorn was for a moment distracted by the mention of a blacklist, and the fact that the rules would start being enforced on Tuesday. Was this the test that Pedro had in store for him, he wondered. And the blacklist, surely it could not be the one used by the people in Lundby. But his attention soon returned to Frank who revealed to everybody's delight that the extra work implied a higher salary for everyone.

"We will all get a raise due to this," Frank said with a smile. "However, we will also have to be less fraternal with the villagers. We are from now on obliged to wear our uniforms and carry our handguns whenever visiting the village. No more civilian clothes for us when going down there, in other words."
"Not even when on official leave?" Ante asked. "Like holidays?"
"Not even when on holiday," Frank added.
"But it's my home village, sort of," Ante protested.
"And people weren't very happy about our uniforms when we were down there yesterday," Bjorn added. "I don't think wearing our uniforms down there is going to make them like us more."
"And who's saying anything about us having to be liked by them?" Frank retorted.
"Well... Why heighten the tension?"
"Heighten tension? Come on! We have to demonstrate that we're in charge. If we don't they will surely feel emboldened, and that's the last thing we want to happen."

And with this Frank terminated his little talk. "You better get going, Bjorn. John must be getting impatient out there," he added.

Tuesday, January 27, 2015

171

Bjorn felt unusually well rested going down the stairs on his way to the kitchen. His weird dream was all but forgotten, and his mind was firmly set on the day ahead of him. He had noted with pleasure that the sky was without a cloud, and the thought of six hours in the glass cage, all to himself, was making him almost lyrical. "It is not a bad way to spend a few hours," he thought to himself. "Not a bad way at all."

Ante had just finished frying the bacon and eggs, setting them out on the table, when Bjorn entered the kitchen as the first of his colleagues. They greeted each other cheerfully and exchanged a few pleasantries about the weather before sitting down to eat.

"Have you tried the ham?" Ante asked, breaking the silence that descended on the two men and stuck with them from when they started their breakfast. Ante pointed to a tray full of finely cut slices of cured ham at the center of the table.
"No, I haven't," Bjorn answered.
"You should! It's very good."
"I'm not very fond of cured ham," Bjorn commented, finishing his bacon and eggs. "Dry and salty. Never liked it."
"But this is different. It's not your average Norwegian piece of meat. This is straight from the best butchers in Spain."
"Really?"

Bjorn looked at the meat, still skeptical. Then, before he had time to say any more, Frank appeared in the kitchen.

"Isn't that right?" Ante asked, looking at Frank as he sat down to eat. "The cured ham I got the other day is really nice."
"Sure is," Frank replied. "Why?"
"I'm just telling Bjorn, he should try it."
"And you should," Frank agreed. "Here, try a slice!"

Frank picked up a slice with a fork and dropped it on Bjorn's plate.

"Okay, since you insist," Bjorn said with a smile, realizing the silliness of the situation. He was being treated as a child. But it was all in good humor. And when he picked the slice up from his plate it struck him as being softer and more moist than he had expected. Quite appetizing in fact. He tore off a bit and put it in his mouth, playing along with the situation, pretending to be more reluctant to try it than he actually was.

"Well, that's very nice actually," Bjorn said, genuinely surprised by how good it tasted.
"Not your average dry piece of meat, is it?" Ante asked encouragingly.
"No! This really is very nice," Bjorn agreed.

Bjorn put the rest of the meat in his mouth. "So this is how it's supposed to taste?" he asked.
"It sure is."
"So why haven't I had this before?" Bjorn wondered out loud.
"It costs a fortune," Frank noted dryly. "That's why."
"And yet we can afford it?" Bjorn asked. "Is this one of your tricks again, Ante?"
"Tricks? No, no. I got this from Pingo. And it didn't cost a fortune, by the way. It cost less than the Norwegian stuff."
"Really?"
"Well... I don't know for sure, since Pingo does not even have the Norwegian stuff. But the only reason this Spanish ham is so darn expensive in Norway is the high tariffs. I'm pretty sure the Norwegian ham is more expensive than the Spanish, though. Without the tariffs, that is."
"Yeah, and even if it cost the same. Who would choose the Norwegian over the Spanish ham?" Frank added. "Without the tariffs, the Norwegian cured ham industry would be out of business in no time."

Bjorn cut a slice of bread for himself. He wanted to try more of the ham, and a thin slice of bread would do nicely as a base for piling up a juicy little heap.

"And this is exactly why we will have to stop people smuggling in food and drink from Lundby," Frank continued. "It's official now. We have to start confiscating stuff that people take with them from the colony."
"Really?" Ante asked. "So they finally got around to dealing with this problem?"
"I got a long mail from Oslo yesterday evening. We've basically been reclassified as a customs office."
"No big surprise there," Ante said. "You've been predicting this for weeks now, haven't you?"
"I sure have," Frank replied with a smug smile.

Bjorn took a bite out of his ham sandwich. "It's kind of unfair, isn't it?" he commented, savoring the delicious flavor of the ham.
"What you mean?" Frank asked, puzzled by Bjorn's comment.
"I mean. Why can't people have this ham if they want to. We'll still be having this, right? We won't have to pay any tariffs?"
"No, we're fine. We're actually inside the colony, so we can just keep shopping at Pingo," Ante replied. "Isn't that so, Frank?"
"Yeah... Well... Even if we weren't. It's not like we'd report ourselves, and tax ourselves. But anyway... We're definitely not bound by the import regulations. Of course not."
"So we can have this nice cheep food. But anyone living in Neiden or beyond will have to pay prohibitive taxes," Bjorn commented.
"Sure. But that's true for everybody. Everybody in Norway have to pay their taxes, including tariffs and other fees. What's so unfair about that?"
"Well... It just seems unfair."
"You know. You're starting to sound an awful lot like Thomas," Frank noted, looking critically at Bjorn, and then over at Ante who appeared to agree with Bjorn.

"You're talking about me?" Thomas asked, appearing in the doorway together with Espen, as if the mere mention of him had made him magically appear.
"Yes, we are," Ante replied with a broad smile. "Frank here, was wondering why you're even at this checkpoint. So why don't you tell him?"
"Is that so?" Thomas asked, looking over at Frank, heading for his regular spot.
"Well, not exactly. I know how you got here."
"You do? Well... why don't you tell me, because I have no idea how I got here."
"You're kidding?" Frank chuckled. "Of course you do. You're not that absent minded."
"No. But I actually made an effort not to get this job, yet I got it anyway."
"Really?"
"I made no secret of anything. I told them truthfully that my only reason for applying for this job was that I had to in order to keep my unemployment benefit. Yet I got it. And then I was trapped. If I refused to take the job, I'd loose my benefit. So here I am. And I have no idea why. I'm sure they must have had better candidates than me."

Thomas started eating his breakfast. "Come to think of it, I have no idea why you are here either," Thomas continued, looking over at Bjorn.
"Me?" Bjorn replied feeling strangely hurt by Thomas' flippant remark. Then, realizing that Thomas had a valid point, Bjorn pretended to shake the remark off by an equally flippant reply to the effect that he too had no idea why he was given the job. And to Bjorn's quiet horror, he realized that what he was saying was entirely true. He had no idea why he got the job, and seeing that he was not very good at it, and that other candidates must have been younger, fitter, and better qualified than him, he was suddenly struck by a feeling that he was somehow hand picked by someone. Not for his abilities, but for his lack there of.

Friday, January 23, 2015

170

Bjorn woke up right before the alarm on his mobile was about to go off. He had slept like a log and felt superbly well rested despite having had one of his uncomfortable dreams. The medicine must have taken the sting out of the dream. He had been more active in his dream than usual, defending himself as it were, holding the goblins at a distance and refusing to succumb to despair.

There had been the usual episode with him and his ex. But this time he had a ready answer for her. He was where he was because he felt like it, and with that simple answer she was gone. However, she returned later in his dream, this time with a sheet of paper in her hand. It was the official inheritance document which he had sent to the local tax office for them to calculate the inheritance tax. It was the document that had put him hopelessly in debt to the tax office, and when she asked him why he had signed it Bjorn was again lost for words.

But he did not react in despair. He simply observed that his ex had a point, and that he should not have signed it, at least not before checking that the stipulated value of the inheritance was in fact correct. It was a stupid mistake, a ruinous mistake, but nevertheless an understandable one. He had acted in good faith. He had nothing to be ashamed of. If anyone should be ashamed, it was his ex for abandoning him as soon as it was clear that he was bankrupt and in eternal debt to the state.

The thought of his hopeless economic situation did not bother him even as he rose out of bed. The situation was as it was, and he had to deal with it as such. Lamenting the situation was not going to set anything right. And this insight was strangely liberating. There had to be a solution to the problem, he felt, and he could almost hear his children beg him to do it, whatever they meant by that. "Do it for us," they had pleaded in his dream, begging him to take some action, and Bjorn had replied, "yes of course," as if he had understood exactly what they meant and knew exactly what to do.

However, these were but episodes in a larger dream dominated by the citizens of Lundby, but also featuring people like Odd the painter, and Ingunn with her wild and surreal interpretation of the world. Odd had painted a ship for her on a large canvas, and she stepped into it as if it was a real ship. "Let us join Jesus and Mother Earth in holy matrimony," she exclaimed from the stem of the ship. And with those words it sailed out of the canvas on a cloud of frothy water. Then, to everyone's consternation, she vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving a large blank spot on the canvas.

The vanishing act took place in Pedro's apartment. Bjorn was there together with a large group of people. They had come to see the painting, and now it was ruined. Odd was there too, and immediately picked up his pencils to repair the damage, excusing himself for having painted the ship a little too life like.

"This is what happens when you invite people like Ingunn to your house," Frederico commented dryly to Pedro in the back of the room.
Pedro chuckled and shook his head. He did not seem the least bit concerned about what had just happened. "It is a good thing we have Odd here, isn't it?" he commented. Then he pointed to Bjorn, calling out his name and telling him to behave on Tuesday, making it clear that it would be a grave mistake to disappoint him.

Bjorn did not know what to say, but Katinka was suddenly there, right next to him. "It's quite simple, really," she explained. "The whole thing is a network. If you push the red button and then make a quick calculation before pushing the green button, you'll be fine. But whatever you do, do not push the green button before the red."
"Is that so?" Bjorn asked, puzzled.
"Nah, just beat him about the head with a plank," Einar suggested. "That's the quickest and easiest solution."
"You're mad," Bjorn protested.
Then he heard a cold feminine voice asking "who you calling mad?" When Bjorn turned to look, he stared into the ice cold gaze of Jan's two daughters. Behind them stood Ane and Ola, both dressed like villains from an old Western. "You should be a little careful about who you call mad down here in good old Lundby," Ane added, putting her hand on the handle of the large pistol strapped to her thigh.
"Oh my. Here we go again!" said another voice. It was Olga, and she was clearly unimpressed by the other ladies. "It's all show and no substance. Take no notice of them."
Tyrone was there too, chuckling to himself. "If you think Lundby is crazy, you should try Liberia," he said, smiling from ear to ear. "That's crazy, if you know what I mean."

And then there was suddenly music. Elisabeth and Aung started singing, and everybody were praising the Lord and swinging from side to side. "Hallelujah, hallelujah. Praise the Lord. We are the citizens, and we will inherit the Earth."

There was much more to the dream, but Bjorn was getting ready for breakfast, and his memory of the dream was fading rapidly. However, the overall feel of the dream stuck with him. The fact that he had not woken up with a start was a victory to him. He had observed and even enjoyed the challenges in his dream. The medicine had definitely helped calm his nerves, and he felt ready to face the world. Not with apprehension, but with anticipation. He was genuinely looking forward to what the day might bring.

Wednesday, January 21, 2015

169

Bjorn felt increasingly nervous and edgy as the dinner progressed. Listening to Ante's rendition of their day in Lundby, however lighthearted and fun, was making him feel uncomfortable. Many of the episodes down in the village had had a sinister undertone to it. And with Ante describing it all in his own colorful way, it all seemed even more crooked and weird than it had appeared first hand. The picture painted by Ante was of a place completely out of control, and Frank and John were clearly impressed. Espen, on the other hand was less convinced. He sent Bjorn the occasional glance to have Ante's story confirmed, to which Bjorn responded with a silent grin, signalling that the real story was not quite as wild as Ante was making it out to be.

But Ante was basically right. He wasn't making up stuff. He was just emphasizing certain aspects and episodes. And it all added up to a strange mix, both fascinating and repulsive. By the end of their meal Bjorn was sitting uncomfortably on his chair, and he was eager to get away to be on his own again. He was also starting to feel tired. It had been a long and eventful day, and he had had little sleep the night before.

When everybody got up and he was on his way out of the kitchen, Bjorn grabbed instinctively his pack of cigarettes in his pocket, yearning for a cigarette to calm his nerves before going to bed. But as he pulled out the pack he was reminded of David's advice, and the medicine that was waiting for him in his desk drawer upstairs. Bjorn put the cigarette pack back in his pocket and headed up the stairs to his room, excusing himself to his colleagues who went in to the common room to end the day there.

Bjorn ascended the stairs quickly, and he felt a rush of childish excitement as he entered his room. Finally it was time to try David's brew. It was sure to calm down his nerves, and Bjorn could not help thinking that it would give him a rush of well being too. The medicine contained cannabis oil after all. It contained other stuff too, no doubt. But it was bound to give him a pleasant experience. He was convinced of that.

Bjorn locked his door before going over to the window to pull the curtains properly shut. He sat down in his chair at his desk, opened the drawer, and pulled out the bottle. "David's Anxiety Relief" it said in large friendly letters. Just looking at the bottle made Bjorn feel calmer. Then he poured the thick liquid into the measuring cup. He took a sip of it to taste it. Then he poured the rest into his mouth, swallowing it without any problems. It was bitter, but not unpleasant.

Bjorn leaned back in his chair, half expecting some immediate effect, but nothing happened. And feeling himself a little silly for thinking that something would happen immediately, he put away the bottle and the measuring glass. Then he got up and headed for the bathroom to prepare himself for bed. That too went without incidents, and he was still feeling completely unaffected by the medicine on returning to his room.

Bjorn set the alarm on his mobile phone, turned on the TV to catch the latest news, and got into his pajamas. He only half paid attention to the drone from the TV until he finally got into bed where his attention could again be fully directed towards the events of the day.

The big headline news was a coordinated police raid on several barber shops in Oslo. Quite a number of illegal hair dressers had been operating without a license for several months, and this was now finally being dealt with by the law enforcement officers. The unlicensed hairdressers had started to crowd out the licensed shops, and this could simply not be tolerated anymore. Just like unlicensed taxi drivers, unlicensed hair dressers had to be dealt with in order to even out the playing field and make business conditions fair for all. Furthermore, unlicensed business owners of all sorts were notorious for not paying taxes, and moving with determination and force against such rogue actors was required in order to keep the economy afloat, it was argued.

Bjorn nodded in agreement. People avoiding taxation was a big problem. It was unfair to those paying their fair share, and it was bad for the economy. The welfare of the public was at stake after all. How could such things as schools and hospitals and pensions etc. be paid for if people stopped paying their taxes? Things would decay into anarchy. Things would soon be as bad as in Lundby, a place so miserable that people had to guard its limits to keep people from fleeing in droves.

Bjorn smiled for some reason. It all seemed ridiculous. He chuckled. And he knew that it had to be the medicine kicking in. He felt warm and fuzzy, and nothing seemed to matter. There was a short mention of a coldblooded assassination of two cops in London, and this bit of news which would normally have made Bjorn's heart leap in anxiety did nothing to lessen his sense of well being. Some homeless guy had shot the two officers, blaming them for his misery, which was absurd since they were out in the streets for the specific purpose of making life more secure for the homeless.

The world was going insane. But Bjorn just chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. Then he turned off the TV and light, and soon he was fast asleep.

Wednesday, January 14, 2015

168

Bjorn hurried back to the barracks, a little shaken by Thomas' matter of fact observation that anyone sitting in the glass cage during a raid would almost certainly be dead before they knew what was happening. However, Thomas followed up his observation by asserting that no one in the village was planning any such raid. Thomas could think of no one who would be even remotely interested in attacking the checkpoint. And this assertion, although only based on Thomas' limited experience with the village, went a long way to neutralize his initial remark. The truth of the matter remained, though. If anyone got the idea that they should target the checkpoint, killing whoever was sitting in the glass cage would be an almost risk free enterprise. Wiping out the entire checkpoint on the other hand, would require more risk taking and more fire power.

The implications of Thomas' observation were disturbing, not least because of its general nature. Guards and police officers could easily be killed, and the only reason this was not happening more often was the fact that most people do not see guards and police officers as a threat or a problem. The best way to stay safe was in other words to stay friendly and polite with whomever one was set to guard.

Bjorn entered the barracks with his thoughts still circling around Thomas' uncomfortable observation, making him feel mildly paranoid. So when he passed the door to the common room, he was distracted by the sound of the TV. Bjorn peeked into the room, and when he did not see anyone, he figured he might as well go in and turn off the TV set.

Bjorn headed towards the easy chairs in front of the TV, looking for the remote control. And having convinced himself that the room was empty, he got quite a start when he suddenly became aware of someone sitting in one of the big padded chairs. It was Geir watching TV, something that should have have come as no surprise at all. But Bjorn could not help jumping back the moment the man turned idly towards him to see who was sneaking up on him.

"Oh! It's you," Bjorn said for lack of anything better to say.
Geir looked puzzled. "Yeah?" he asked.
"You gave me a start."
"I did?"
"I didn't expect to find you here," Bjorn continued. "We're having dinner."
"I know. I'm fine though," Geir replied with a friendly smile. Geir pointed to a plate full of bread crumbs on the little table next to him. "I've just eaten," he explained.

Bjorn felt suddenly embarrassed by the whole situation. He excused himself for sneaking up on Geir, as if Geir was the one who had been startled. Geir on the other hand, simply gave him a friendly but indifferent smile as Bjorn retreated to the hallway.

Bjorn's embarrassment turned to irritation even before he entered the kitchen where he sat down in silence, next to Frank. He proceeded to scoop up rice and curry for himself from the pots put out on the table, glad to note for himself that his colleagues were fully occupied, listening to Ante who was recounting the episode when Pedro entered his apartment and everybody tried to leave through the back door.

Frank and Espen were taking great delight in Ante's colorful rendition of what happened, and Bjorn could not help feeling better by just listening to the man. The way Ante put it, it was pretty much all a farce, a lighthearted comedy with plenty of lame excuses and silly anecdotes. John too was being amused by the story, but he looked skeptical. His impatience with what Ante was saying was growing, and finally he blurted out what was on his mind.

"You know, that wasn't Pedro you were talking to," John said with conviction. "Pedro does not exist."
"Really?" Ante asked, thrown off track by John's sudden interruption. "So who was it?"
"I don't know, but it wasn't Pedro, that's for sure?"

Everyone looked at John in puzzlement.

"Pedro is just a made up guy," John continued. "He's a fiction."
"But we just had a conversation with the guy down in Lundby," Bjorn protested.
"And what did he look like?" John asked.
"Ah... Like your average Portuguese guy, I guess."
"So you don't actually know who you were talking to, do you?" John continued. "It could have been anyone."
"Sure, but..."

There was a silence in the room as everybody tried to digest John's unexpected and rather startling assertion.

"But he presented himself as Pedro, right?" Espen ventured, looking over at Ante.
"Yeah."
"And he had the keys to the apartment?"
"Sure."

Espen took a sip of his beer. "So it does not really matter who he was, does it? For all practical purposes, the man you were talking to was Pedro, no matter who he actually was."
"What you mean?" John asked, clearly irritated. "Of course it matters who he was."
"How?"

John was speechless. He had no answer.

"And that plane you saw last night," Frank said, turning to Bjorn. "I got confirmation from Oslo that it must have been Pedro."
"So there we are," Espen continued calmly. "There is a Pedro, real or not, flying in to Lundby and behaving like Pedro. Why shouldn't we simply assume that he is indeed the man he claims to be?"
"Because he is a fiction," John protested.
"And how do you know that?"
"There's nothing on him anywhere. There's only a few mentions here and there, vague references. And this idiotic claim that he is somehow responsible for all sorts of stuff."
"Like the corruption scandal in Portugal?" Bjorn suggested.
"Yeah... Like that. You see, he is a convenient fiction."

Espen scratched his ear. He was clearly not convinced by John's argument. "But don't you see that it does not really matter who the man actually is. As long as he does all the things that we expect Pedro to do, he is Pedro. regardless. Your little theory has no value. Even if you are right, and the man is simply an actor, he still has all the attributes of Pedro, and for practical purposes, that's all we need to know."

There was another silence. Espen's assertion seemed right. Yet Bjorn could not quite free himself from thinking that there was something to John's view too, and that it did indeed matter if his theory was right or wrong. But Frank broke into the silence before Bjorn could make up his mind.

"You know. I never met the man. I never talked to him" Frank said thoughtfully. "And I think Espen is right. It does not matter one bit whether he is the actual Pedro or not. As long as he does all the Pedro things, he's Pedro as far as I'm concerned."

And with this, Ante was free to resume his story. Things were settled, as it were. And even though John was far from convinced by Espen's assertion, John did not push his theory any further. Bjorn did not know what to think, but Espen's practical approach to the whole thing made a lot of sense. However, what really caught Bjorn's attention was Frank's insistence that he had not had any contact with Pedro. If true, that would mean that Frank was not necessarily corrupted by Pedro, and that Bjorn's schedule for the coming week was somehow leaked to Pedro from somebody else.

Monday, January 12, 2015

167

"Take this out to Thomas, will you?" Ante said, handing Bjorn a big plate of rice and curry as he approached his colleagues, seated at the table in the kitchen. "And here's a bottle of beer to go with it."
"Beer?" Bjorn asked, looking over at Frank. "You're fine with that?"
Frank nodded. "Sure. One bottle of this stuff won't make any difference."

Bjorn nodded, took the plate in one hand and the bottle in the other, and headed out of the kitchen. He didn't mind being the courier. In fact, being part of this thoughtful little gesture was something he welcomed. It made Thomas happy, and that again made Bjorn happy.

The sunset was breathtaking. The sky practically glowing to the north west, and Bjorn was again struck by the raw beauty of the place. "I'm blessed," he thought to himself as he headed down to the glass cage. "What a strange series of coincidences life is, and what pleasant surprises it has in store from time to time."

Bjorn found Thomas leaning back in his chair, with his eyes fixed on the horizon, oblivious to his immediate surroundings. This had Bjorn worry for a second that Thomas had completely forgotten about his duties. But when Bjorn knocked gently on the door with the beer bottle, he saw to his relief that this was all it took to have Thomas snap out of his daydream.

Thomas opened the door, letting Bjorn into the office. "So you're out sneaking up on people are you?" He asked with a smile. "Are you training your ninja skills?"
"No, no! I'm here with your dinner, as you can see."
"And a very welcoming sight it is, indeed."
"Prawn curry and Asian beer. Not bad aye?"
"Not bad at all."

Bjorn handed the plate and bottle over to Thomas, who put it on the ledge by the window. Then, on leaving the office, Bjorn suggested Thomas be a little careful about falling asleep.

"Hey, I wasn't sleeping," Thomas protested. "I was just relaxing."
"Well, you didn't see me sneaking up on you, did you?"
"No. But I'm looking for cars, not people."
"So if some ninja comes up here from the village, you won't know it before you're dead?"
"Nope, and neither will you. In fact, if anyone decides to attack this place, the one in the glass cage will be dead before he knows it, regardless."
"You think so?" Bjorn asked with a sting of angst hitting him.
"I know it for sure, and so do you," Thomas continued. "Haven't you read the news lately?"
"The news?"
"Just last week, there were two armed cops assassinated in broad daylight in New York. And those loonies in Paris the other day... The cops didn't stand a chance... And neither do we. And everybody knows it. It is rapidly becoming common knowledge that people like us can be assassinated without much risk, regardless of how well we are armed."

Thomas patted the automatic pistol resting on his belly to illustrate his point, and Bjorn knew that Thomas was entirely right. The one sitting in the glass cage was essentially a sitting duck. If someone for some reason wanted to attack the checkpoint, the guard on duty would not survive.

Monday, January 5, 2015

166

Bjorn leaned back in his chair and looked out of his window to the north east. He scratched his head idly as he let Ingunn's story sink in. The woman had come across as quite eccentric, even the first time he read about her. And her eccentricity had become more acute over time. The woman claimed to have direct contact with angels, and at one point, shortly before her eviction, she had even performed a wedding ceremony between mother earth and Jesus.

It had all been quite entertaining to read about. But the woman was clearly mad, and Bjorn had no trouble understanding the need to treat her. Isolating here pretty much completely from the outside world seemed rather excessive, though. That was probably not so much for her own safety as it was for the safety of others. Her world view, as strange as it was, had a charismatic appeal that had proven to be rather contagious, and this was probably the real reason to keep her away from any public interaction.

Ingunn had to be isolated due to the contagious nature of her madness. Anders, on the other hand, although popular in certain circles, did not have the same appeal. And this difference in public appeal could easily explain why Anders was relatively more free than Ingunn. Ingunn's followers had started emulating her ways. Anders' followers, on the other hand were more like cheer leaders with a morbid fascination with his insanity. No one had been found to emulate Anders in any way. People were drawn to him, but his followers did not cause any harm to themselves or society in general. Ingunn's followers on the other hand, were handing in their passports, refusing to associate themselves with the state, and even stopping their mortgage payments. Ingunn's followers were disrupting public order and causing harm to themselves in the process. Ingunn's ideas were in a way, although completely peaceful, much more damaging than those of Anders.

Bjorn was reminded of the public debate on mental illnesses that had emerged during Anders' trial. Several experts had pointed to the dangers of infectious misconceptions, erroneous ideas with dangerous appeal to certain types of people. Anders had been infected by the outlandish idea that the government was seeking to destroy Norwegian culture by encouraging immigration from Muslim countries. Unchecked and untreated, this idea grew into a whole system, and finally, the man went completely mad. He took it upon himself to stop the government by killing the children attending the summer camp of the leading political party, and in doing so he became one of the biggest mass murderers of all times.

What started as simply an eccentric belief morphed over time into a homicidal madness. Likewise, Ingunn's eccentric ideas had not only morphed into a weird system of angles and energies and whatnot, it had spread like a contagious disease. There was no telling where it all could lead if left unchecked, and the move to stop it was probably not a moment too soon.

But what about Frederico and his weird empire idea? Was that not similarly eccentric? It was certainly contagious. Bjorn had even entertained the idea of trying out a citizenship for a while. Frederico did not come across as quite as eccentric as Ingunn, but he was certainly wane and a little strange, and his popular appeal had left Bjorn with a feeling that something was not quite right.

Could it be that the people of Lundby were falling pray to a dangerous idea that would eventually turn into some sort of collective madness? Frederico and Ingunn had both been talking about personal sovereignty. This idea was the common core of their separate beliefs. And if Ingunn's version was considered dangerously delusional, then Frederico's version was probably not much better.

And what about Thomas? He made no secrets of his admiration for Frederico. Was Thomas turning mad? And if so, was his madness beginning to spread to Ante? Was Bjorn himself getting infected? Bjorn wondered. Was he exploring ideas that might best be ignored?

The whole empire thing smacked of manipulation. People were being infected by Frederico's fantastic ramblings. And into this whirlpool of madness, people like Jan and Pedro had stepped and started to stir the pot. Pedro, acting in the dark, had already made fortunes through corruption and manipulations. Pedro was a master of dark arts, Jan was his thug in chief, and Frederico was his sorcerer. A fantastic combination.

And this most sinister trio was acting with impunity. No one was making any moves to stop them. Ingunn, on the other hand, eager for fame and deluded by her own ideas and popularity, had been locked up for life. The forces of darkness, as is often the case, roam unchecked, while those unable to see the dangers of their good intentions end up mad and isolated.

Bjorn felt the world suddenly spinning as if the mad whirlpool of ideas out there were dragging him physically into its darkness. But before he could relate to the dizziness, he was abruptly woken up from his budding daydream. Ante was knocking on Bjorn's door, informing him that dinner was ready. They were waiting for him to come down stairs.

Bjorn got up, and shaking off his dizziness he headed downstairs to join his colleagues for dinner.

Thursday, January 1, 2015

165

Ingunn had for a while been a rather popular character in the news, and Bjorn needed only to skim the article to be reminded of her rather eccentric stance against the state. However, she had for some reason suddenly fallen out of favor with journalists, and after she was evicted from her house, there had been no more mention of her.

Bjorn had not thought much about it. News stories come and go, and as far as he was concerned, Ingunn's story had pretty much ended with her eviction. But now that he had her full story in front of him, he read with interest that she had in fact ended up in a mental asylum for treatment after a panel of judges had declared her innocent of criminal civil disobedience due to a severe case of paranoid schizophrenia.

Rather than going to jail for her activism, she had been sentenced to treatment at the national center for the criminally insane, the same place where Anders the mass murderer was being treated for his mental illness. And just like Anders, Ingunn's release from the mental asylum would be wholly dependent on her being well enough to return to society. A panel of medical experts were monitoring her progress, and would not sign her release before they could all agree that she no longer posed a danger to herself or her surroundings.

However, unlike Anders, Ingunn had been denied all contact with the outside world. Her mental illness was such that even indirect contact with the outside world would pose a problem. She had no TV, no radio and no internet. Her only contact with the outside world was through a limited group of people deemed harmless to her health. Only a handful of close friends and relatives were allowed to see her, but only while under observation by medical experts who would make sure that the topic of conversation never stayed away from the mundane.

Ingunn's isolation was in other words complete. While Anders was free to interact with the outside world, even to the point of establishing a political party, Ingunn was denied all such interactions. Although seemingly cruel, her isolation was entirely for her own good. Her severe paranoia was such that even a tiny bit of news could have her regress into her madness.

Psychologists had in fact identified her illness at an early stage, and had advised reporters to ignore her rants and ramblings. But her world view was so eccentric and entertaining that most journalists had been unable to resist the stories that emanated from her. First it was her decision to declare her property in Skien an independent state, making herself a sovereign of her newly created nation, lovingly named Niceland.

Having declared herself a sovereign, she proceeded to send official letters to the foreign minister as if she was indeed a queen of an independent nation. She returned her passport and birth certificates, and finally refused to pay the debt on her house.

As a sovereign, she felt it wholly within her right to simply refuse to pay the "national debt". Furthermore, she argued that since her debt to the bank had been created out of thin air, there was nothing to be paid back. And with the bank unable to document the existence of any original owner, there were no one to pay the money back to. The money was simply conjured into existence when Ingunn signed the loan document, and there were no original owner. Hence, she had nothing to pay back, and no one to pay anything back to. She was therefore, in her own words, taking a principled stance against the banks and the fractional banking system that allowed for the current system of loan and currency creation.

The reporters covering this story were delighted, of course. Her David against Goliath like stance was insane. She was behaving in a manner reminiscent of Don Quijote, fighting windmills, conjuring up elaborate stories, and impressing the feeble minded with explanations that sound entirely true, yet had little or no baring in reality. And to the journalists' great surprise and further delight, Ingunn was getting followers, admirers who loved her explanations. Ingunn was becoming an increasingly popular subject for the journalist and common folks alike.

However, when a number of her followers started emulating her behavior, returning their passports and birth certificates to the state, it was becoming clear that things were getting out of hand. Reporters were again advised to stay away from the matter since it had clearly caused a lot of people to become similarly confused as Ingunn. The idea that one could simply declare oneself sovereign was of course pure madness. And seeing that her mad ideas were rather infectious, the justice department itself came out with a guideline concerning her particular kind of mental illness, making it clear that irresponsible reporting on this type of insanity could lead to criminal charges against the journalists.

Ingunn was evicted from her house, and shortly after, she was apprehended and brought to trail, charged with criminal incendiary speech with the aim to cause massive civil disobedience. The trial went largely unreported due to its sensitive nature. And with this, Ingunn's brief claim to fame came to an abrupt halt.