17

Bjorn sat down in the office chair in front of the control panel, put his thermos on a small ledge by the window in front of him, and felt immediately at ease as he gazed out at the panoramic view of the fjord, with snow capped alpine mountains rising up from the icy marsh land on the other side.

Lundby, partially hidden from view by two low hills shielding it from the weather on either side, looked positively idyllic with houses scattered in a seemingly random fashion on the barren rocks, between which a road could be seen, with the occasional car driving by. The pace of life in the village, which Bjorn derived solely from the cars coming and going, seemed neither stressful nor sedated. From the distance, everything looked both normal and peaceful.

The port, completely hidden from view by a hill to the east could nevertheless be detected due to the regular comings and goings of the ferry. And there was almost always a little rush of cars driving by, down by the fjord, every twenty minutes after a ferry arrival. People were coming and going, and the woman that Bjorn had briefly talked to on the ferry was probably not the only one doing business in the village. Some of the cars coming in from the port were fairly large trucks, clearly carrying goods of various kinds.

Having spent some time taking in the initial impression from the commanding view of the glass panelled office, Bjorn leant back in the chair with a mug of hot coffee in his hand, letting his eyes wander freely in search of things of interest. With the road to Neiden still blocked by snow, there was no chance of anyone coming up to the checkpoint, unless in an errand for the checkpoint itself, so there was literally nothing for Bjorn to do but to let his mind wander with his gaze.

The view both barren and motionless, made any motion draw immediate attention to itself, and two cranes, partially hidden by the near hill between the check point and Lundby, drew Bjorn´s attention every time they made an occasional turn, and so did cars coming and going on the bits of road visible from the check point, as did a mobile crane getting into place at a building site down by the fjord, at the near side of the hill obscuring the view of Lundby.

It soon became intensely sleep inducing to just sit and watch the view, and Bjorn realized he had to entertain his mind in order not to nod off with his wandering eyes and mind. He decided to scrutinize the building site down by the fjord, and lifted a pair of binoculars to his eyes to take a closer look. By the look of it, the building being erected was some sort of low apartment building, and the site was very busy with people, many of whom did not seem to have much else to do than to carry materials from one place to another. Others, presumably more skilled workers, were busy finishing the ground floor façade, while others were putting in place scaffolding higher up.

Everything seemed to be happening all at once, and looking through the large openings, still without doors or windows, people could be seen in the light of harsh incandescent lamps, tiding up and getting started on the interior. For every skilled worker, there seemed to be at least five people busy sweeping floors and carrying stuff around, and Bjorn got a strong feeling that what he was witnessing was nothing less than modern day slavery. The only thing missing was any sign of armed guards. And the slaves did not seem as discouraged as he would have expected. They did not work excessively hard. But they did not seem to drag their feet either.