11

Bjorn decided to retire to his room after having enjoyed the lasagne, served by Ante in the kitchen. It was quite a meal, and the glass of red wine had only added to the sense of well being that had filled him while in the company of the talkative and entertaining Sami.

Curious about Lundby, Bjorn had asked Ante about the village, both its history and its current status. And he could not help mention the woman he had met on the ferry, since her desire to move to Lundby seemed quite irrational in the light of its official status as a national centre for asylum seekers.

"Well, she is probably going to work for the people in charge of the centre. It is being equipped with industry and services to occupy the asylum seekers while they wait for their cases to be processed in Oslo."
"So it is a prison gulag in other words?" Bjorn asked, with a sense of unease about the whole business.
"Of sorts I guess. But it is one heck of a place to visit. I´ve been there a few times, and enjoyed it greatly every time. We are planning to go down there Friday evening. If you are curious about the place, you should come with us!"

Bjorn was in no mood to make a decision there and then about his Friday night plans, but the work schedule for the week was already set, so there was no hurry. Friday was still several days away, and Ante told him that he could make the decision any time, right at the spur of the moment if he so wished.

As for the history of Lundby, it had originally been a fishing village, which explained the distance between the village and the port. But this little fact was not what was occupying Bjorn´s mind when he entered his room. It was rather the mixed feeling of well being from Antes meal, and the disturbing feeling of unease regarding Lundby´s true nature.

Lost in his own thoughts, Bjorn was taken by surprise by what looked like someone coming in his direction as he entered his room, but he realized even before he had time to jump that he had only caught sight of his own reflection in the large window spanning the width of his room at the far end. The darkness outside was complete, and the window was almost a perfect mirror in the bright light.

Suddenly confronted by himself, he was struck by how old he looked. All the colleagues he had met so far were younger than him by at least a decade, and he felt at once lost, not so much in space as in time. He felt lost and bewildered and it was almost as if he asked out loud, "why am I here?" But the voice was only in his head. And the short answer to his question was that the army seemed to be the only one hiring in the midst of the current recession.

In no mood to answer the question more truthfully, not even to himself, Bjorn walked briskly over to the window to draw the curtains and be left alone from his own image, pushing the real answer to his own question to the back of his mind. He turned on the TV, pulled off his boots, and started taking out his things from the back pack on his bed.