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."

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.

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.

88

Ante sat down with his colleagues, drink in hand, and with a big smile on his face.

"I love this place!" he said, looking out on the people at the dance floor. "Have you seen the drug peddlers over there?"
"Drug peddlers? Where?" Bjorn asked, surprised to hear Ante talk so light heartedly about such a sordid business.
"There!" Ante answered, pointing to a table by the entrance to the bathrooms. "You can get whatever you feel like over there."
"Really?"
"Yep! Cocaine, heroine, cannabis... You name it, they got it."
"And no one is stopping them?" Bjorn wondered out loud.

Ante looked over at Thomas, with a grin as if to say, "you go ahead and explain this to Bjorn for me!"

"Well, who's to stop them?" Thomas asked rhetorically.
"Well... eh..." Bjorn stuttered, unable to find an answer.
"Jan could stop them," Espen ventured. "It's his place after all."
"Sure!" Ante agreed. "But I asked them about that, and you know what they told me?"
"No?"
"The table over there has been rented by a guy called David. Jan is in on this. He is making money renting out that table to David."

The men looked with silent wonder at the table where the illicit trade was going on. It was wide open and at the same time so toned down that it had gone unnoticed by Bjorn until now.

"And who is David?" Bjorn asked, curious to know who of the two peddlers was in charge.
"David isn't here," Ante explained. "He is up at his pharmacy, down the road from the church."
"So those guys over there are just working for him?" Bjorn asked.
"Apparently."

Bjorn was speechless.

"It is this kind of thing that's going to be the end of Lundby," Thomas said with a concerned look on his face.
"Everyone will end up hooked on drugs, you mean?" Espen asked.
"No... Of course not... But how long do you think this will last before we will be asked to shut this whole place down?"
"Not very long," Espen conceded.
"And it will be up to us to do the dirty work of closing this down, you know," Thomas continued.
"And you don't think we should?" Bjorn asked.

Thomas looked at Bjorn as if he had said something really stupid. "Why?" he asked.
"Well, it's against the law."
"So?"
"So, it should be shut down. That's what laws are for. To make sure that things like this is not going on in the open."
"Really?" Thomas asked rhetorically. "Is that really what laws are for?"
"Yeah?" Bjorn answered hesitantly.

Bjorn looked over at the table where the two men were helping their customers in a polite manner, as if they were selling something completely innocent, like doughnuts or sweets. There was nothing remotely aggressive or overly assertive about their behaviour, and Bjorn did not feel the least bit threatened by their presence in the room. But it was a silly gamble to let this go on in the open, and Thomas was no doubt right in his prediction that this would indeed be the end of the Lundby project in its present form.

"Kind of stupid of Pedro to let this go on in the open, isn't it?" Bjorn asked.
"He's probably powerless to stop this," Thomas countered.
"Really? I thought he was in charge of law and order down here."
"Sure! But how should he go about shutting this business down? You think he can just go into this casino and demand that things change? Have you seen the bouncers out there?"
"I guess you got a point," Bjorn conceded.

"And guess what?" Thomas continued after a short pause. "It will be our job to go in here and demand the sort of changes that our bosses in Oslo will want to see... How do you like the idea of going in here and try to boss Jan around?"

Bjorn looked over at Ante who was following the discussion with relaxed curiosity. Ante shook his head with a negative grin. "Nope... I'm not going to do it," he said. "I don't feel like ending up at the bottom of the fjord with a hundred kilo of concrete around my ankles."

87

Bjorn leant back in his chair, sipping his beer in silence. He felt a fuming frustration with Thomas and his definition of slavery, but also a sneaking suspicion that the real source of his frustration was Ola and Ane, and that the thing that was really upsetting him was a jealousy of their youth and success.

Bjorn was not the oldest one in the casino, but he was clearly a good deal older than most. And what did he have to show for it? Nothing. For a few weeks he had lived under the illusion that he too was rich, when in fact he had signed the papers that would bankrupt him. And the fall had been horrendous, brutal and unyielding, with the tax man showing no mercy as he rejected every single one of Bjorn's arguments. The inheritance tax could not be recalculated. It was set in stone as it were, and would never be forgiven.

Ola's great sin was simply to be the man that Bjorn would liked to have been. His success reminded Bjorn of his own failure, and it was this more than anything that made him feel so edgy and hostile towards both Ola and Ane. But this was neither the place nor time to dwell on the past. Bjorn was on a journey of his own, he thought, even if he was just an observer. Lundby was an exciting place, and the casino was full of life and energy. He was an explorer of sorts, and his success would be a private one, not measured in wealth, but in experiences.

Sipping his beer, Bjorn convinced himself that he would be successful in his own way, and that his life was as exciting as anyone's. And pretty soon he felt almost relieved to know that Ane was living her own life, quite separate from his, for he had better things to do than to be together with a woman obsessed with fish and profits. Bjorn was free. And his very lack of material wealth was the source of this freedom.

Looking out on the dance floor, with people dancing and moving about, some hoping for love, and others looking to make some money, Bjorn felt relieved to know that he was above this. He was beyond this hustling and sentimental nonsense. Bjorn was the observer, separate from the daily struggles, hopes and fears of the people around him.

Bjorn took another sip of his beer, enjoying the sense of calm that was starting to fill his every fibre. Then Espen made a comment out of the blue.

"They were both from Fredrikstad," Espen said, as if announcing something deep and significant.
"Who," Bjorn asked.
"Ola and Per."
"Yeah? And?"
"Well, they said they were from Longyear... But no one grows up in Longyear. It's not a place where people raise families."
"True... The place is so far north it's a wonder anyone lives there at all."
"Yeah! Compared to Longyear, Lundby is almost a tropical paradise." Thomas added. "But what makes you so sure they are from Fredrikstad?"
"Their dialect... I got family in Fredrikstad, and they talked just like them... Toned down a bit, but still..."
"So you think they were lying about Longyear?" Thomas asked, confused by Espen's story.
"No, no... I'm just saying that they must have grown up in Fredrikstad. I'm sure they've been working the mines up at Svalbard. But that's not where they are from originally."
"Okay?" Thomas answered without any sign of interest in what Espen was talking about.

Bjorn didn't find Espen's comment very interesting either and slipped back into his meditative mood rather than making any effort to keep the conversation going. Bjorn looked over at the table where he had last seen Frank and Ante, thinking that it would be nice to have Ante back at their table, but the table was empty. He looked around, but could see neither Frank nor Ante anywhere in the room. However, Bjorn didn't feel like making a point of their disappearance, preferring to sit quietly and enjoy his meditative state instead.

"It's nice how they keep the music down enough for us to be able to talk without shouting on top of our voices," Espen commented idly, apparently trying to start another conversation.
"It's the way they positioned the loudspeakers," Thomas explained. "See how they hang right above the dance floor. That way it is loud where it matters, and more mellow out here."
"So that is how they do it," Espen answered in apparent wonder.
"Yeah, there are no loudspeakers out here, as you can see."

Bjorn looked up to verify Thomas' claim, but felt immediately dizzy.

"Oh my! I'm more drunk than I thought," Bjorn said, turning his gaze quickly to the floor to fight a sudden spell of nausea.
"You're all right?" Espen asked.
"Sure... I just have to stop drinking."
"Need some help getting out in the fresh air?" Thomas asked.
"No, no... I'm fine. I'm not sure why I feel this way... I haven't drunk all that much."

Bjorn quickly regained his balance. "What was that all about?" Bjorn thought to himself with an uneasy feeling that his sudden spell of dizziness was more than just alcohol related. But Thomas broke Bjorn's line of thoughts with a question before he had time to even start speculating on an alternative cause.

"Where is Ante?" Thomas asked. "He's not getting drunk again, is he?"
"I don't know," Bjorn answered, feeling less dizzy by the second. "I haven't seen him in a while."

The three men looked around, unable to find any trace of Ante. And Frank was also nowhere to be seen. But just as Thomas were about to get up to go looking for the two men, Ante appeared from the back of the room, all smiles and with a glass in his hand.

"Is that a cocktail, you got there?" Thomas asked as Ante presented himself at the table.
"No, it's a long drink," Ante answered with a broad smile. "A Rum Fizz to be exact."
"But you are our designated driver!" Thomas said with quiet despair.
"Sure... But I'm not drunk... I'm fine... I'll get you all back safe and sound to the checkpoint when the time comes."

86

Ola leant back in his chair, looking around as if to take in the place one last time before leaving.

"Well, I think we'll leave now," he said to Per. "We can have a few last beers over at my place if you're still thirsty." Then, leaning over towards Bjorn and his two colleagues, he excused himself, putting his hands on his knees, ready to rise and leave.
"So you're staying at Ola and Ane's place tonight," Bjorn asked, looking at Per.
"Yes he is," Ola answered. "The ferry back to Kirkenes does not run at these hours."
"No?"
"No! But we got a housekeeper, so there's no extra work for Ane or me to have people staying over," Ola added proudly.
"A house keeper! That sounds fancy," Bjorn commented acidly.
"Ganga... a Tamil girl," Ola explained, taking no notice of Bjorn's acid remark. "That's one of the great advantages of buying a place in Lundby. You can get a housekeeper for as little as fifty MG a day."
"But that is even less than your wife pays her factory workers."
"Sure, but Ganga gets a room and food for free, so she is in many ways better off than the factory workers."

Bjorn looked blankly at Ola for a second. "So those barracks over by the factory are not free for Ane's workers?"
"No, she rents them out for a hundred MG per night."
"But that's what the workers make in a day!" Bjorn protested, shocked by Ola's revelation.
"Sure, but the workers typically rent the rooms together with three or more other workers. That way they have plenty for food and other necessities."

Bjorn was speechless. Ane's shameless exploitation of her workers was much worse than he had thought. And Ola did not seem the least bit ashamed of it either. "What a loveless cold couple they must be," he thought to himself. But he had the wits to keep this thought to himself, and did not say anything to stop Ola and Per from raising up from their chairs.

"Take care, and enjoy the rest of your evening," Ola said with a friendly smile. Per said goodbye too and the two men left, leaving Bjorn, Thomas and  Espen to themselves.

"I think Ola is right," Thomas said, breaking the silence around the table.
"About what?" Bjorn asked, still shocked by Ola's revelation.
"About the house... Per should buy it now while prices are down... The influx of asylum seekers isn't going to be nearly as bad as people think."
"I agree!" Espen said with a nod. "I don't think Ola was very pleased about the way you put it though."
"Yeah," Bjorn said with a smile. "Mentioning Frank's fence was hardly a winning argument."

The three men smiled and shook their heads over Thomas' silly remark that had set Ola´s arguments back by quite a bit, and possibly stopped Per from ever considering buying a house in Lundby.

"It's a good thing you're not working as a diplomat," Espen commented, still chuckling.
"But you know what I found to be the winning argument?" Thomas asked rhetorically to change the subject.
"No? What?" Espen asked.
"The housekeeper."
"Really?" Bjorn asked in disbelief.
"Sure! Imagine having someone to sort out your house while you're off doing other things. I'd love to have that."
"But it's slavery!" Bjorn protested.
"No, it's not. This Ganga, or whatever, is making just as good a living as any of the factory workers."
"But they are slaves too?"
"No... They can all choose to do other stuff if they please. You're only a slave if you have no say in choosing your employer, or if you have to give away your earnings to a third party without your consent."

Bjorn did not agree, but could not find any quick counter-definition for slavery, so he found himself again lost for words.

"But you agree that the wages are terrible?" Espen commented, apparently agreeing with Bjorn, at least to some extent.
"Sure," Thomas agreed. "But as long as people are not forced to part with their earnings against their will, and have freedom to work for whoever they please, it is totally wrong to call this slavery."

Then, after taking a sip of his beer, Thomas continued.

"There is simply an oversupply of unskilled labour, and that forces the price down."
"And at what point does low wages become so low that it becomes slavery?" Bjorn asked.
"Never," Thomas answered confidently.
"Never?"
"Exactly. Slavery has to do with wage extraction and force. It has nothing to do with the amount a person earns. If Ganga is forced against her will to do a bunch of stuff she does not voluntarily agree to, she is a slave, but we have no evidence of anything like that going on in the Ola & Ane household."
"But she has no choice!" Bjorn protested. "She has no choice but to accept her lot."
"Not true," Thomas countered, still cocksure of himself. "She can work in the factory, she can open a stall at the market, she can start a business herself. She sure as hell does not have to work for Ola and Ane unless they are indeed locking her up and forcing her to do stuff. And only then would I consider her a slave. As long as I have no reason to believe that Ola or Ane are forcing Ganga to be their housekeeper, I see no reason to assume that she's a slave."

Bjorn was again unable to find a good argument to counter Thomas' assertion, but he had a distinct feeling that Thomas' definition was lacking, and he felt frustrated with Thomas insisting that the word slavery did not apply to the misery and hardship doubtlessly experienced by Ane's housekeeper and factory workers.

"But you have to admit that it would be great to have a housekeeper?" Espen asked Bjorn, evidently trying to make Bjorn see things from Thomas' perspective.
"Sure," Bjorn had to admit. "Who wouldn't like to be rich and successful? But if it had to be on other people's expense, I think I'd rather not."
"But it is not on other people's expense," Thomas insisted. "If Ane didn't employ all these people, they might be without work entirely, or working under even worse conditions. Remember, everyone working for Ane is working for Ane because they did not find a better deal with somebody else. They would in other words be worse off without her."
"Unless they are indeed slaves," Espen corrected.
"Sure... But there's no evidence of that."

85

Bjorn was suddenly speechless, and if it hadn't been for the waitress appearing with four beers, he would probably not have been able to hide his disappointment. But with the other men suddenly all busy paying for their beers, Bjorn could let the initial shock sink in in silence.

It was ridiculous to be disappointed, of course, and this in itself was half the embarrassment for Bjorn. It was not like he knew Ane, and she was in many ways way out of his league, successful, young and beautiful as she was. But he had come to think of her as an heroic lone ranger of sorts, and himself as her trusted ally. And now, that illusion was broken.

Bjorn lifted his glass to his lips, and swallowed a mouth full of beer, not for the thirst, but as a way to hide his embarrassing emotions. He looked at Ola, as he paid the waitress, and he was again struck by the sheer physical size of the man. Had he been just a little bit bigger, he could properly be classified as a giant. And to think that this enormous guy was involved with tiny Ane was almost obscene in its erotic implications.

But Ola had asked Bjorn a question, and it deserved an answer. It also gave Bjorn an opportunity to catch his balance again, and rid himself of his silly immature disappointment.

"I inspected Ane's factory on Wednesday, together with a colleague," Bjorn explained.
"Ah! So you are one of the millimetre guys," Ola said with a friendly smile.
"Is that what she called us?"
"Yep!" Ola answered, still smiling. "Are you the nasty obsessed one, or the nice clueless one?"

Bjorn could not help smiling despite the insult. "Who do you think?" he asked.
"I guess you're the nice clueless one."
"I guess you're right," Bjorn answered. "But was it really that obvious?"
"I'm afraid it was, despite your best efforts."
"Well... Maybe we shouldn't talk more about this," Bjorn continued, looking over at Thomas and Espen who were following the conversation with amusement.

"So you are all from the checkpoint?" Per asked, helpfully changing the subject for Bjorn.
"Yeah," Thomas answered.
"That makes sense."
"How?"
"Well... Five guys, obviously not all from up here, and not working at the mine either... Where else could you be working."
"True..."

Thomas took a sip of his beer, leaning back in his chair to look at the people out on the dance floor.

"But you're not from around here either, are you?" Espen asked.
"No... We moved down from Svalbard when they opened the iron mine down here," Ola said helpfully.
"You worked in the coal mines up there?" Espen asked full of wonder. "I've heard it's a crazy place."
"It is... But not as wild as Lundby."
"You think this place is weirder?" Espen asked. "But at least we don't have polar bears wandering the streets in Lundby."
"Sure... But they aren't sending thousands of people to the Longyear village, are they."
"But if it wasn't for that, then Longyear would be weirder than Lundby."

Ola took a sip of his beer. Then, after swallowing the brew with a thoughtful look on his face, he continued. "Lundby is like Longyear on steroids, minus the polar bears."
"What do you mean?" Thomas asked.
"Longyear is a tiny project in comparison to this. And it is more isolated," Ola explained. "This has the potential to become something really big."

Then, turning to Per, Ola continued. "You know, if you don't buy that house, I think I will... I'll see if I can find the money to buy it, and I'll sell it in a few years and make a ton of money."

84

Returning to the main hall where the music was playing and a few couples were moving around on the dance floor, Bjorn caught sight of Frank and Ante over at a table with two girls. They were obviously flirting and having fun, and Bjorn thought it better to let them have their fun without him interfering, so he turned to the table where he had left his jacket.

Thomas' balloon marked the spot, and both Espen and Thomas were still sitting there, guarding the pile of jackets on the ledge behind them. But they were not alone. The two big Norwegians he had seen at Nora's place were also with them, engaging them in conversation.

Bjorn immediately felt curious to hear what the athletic looking men had to say, and seeing that the chair he had been sitting in before leaving for a smoke was still free, he sat down with a friendly nod to the four men, making a point of not interfering in their conversation.

Bjorn leant back in his chair, looking for the black girl who had served them earlier while listening in on what the men were saying. He soon caught sight of the waitress and signalled that he wanted another beer by making a hand movement as if pulling draught himself. Then, leaning a little forward, he started to pay closer attention to what the four were talking about.

Apparently, the biggest and blondest of the two men was trying to convince his friend to buy a house in Lundby, claiming that there was no better time to buy a house than now while everyone was fearful of the imminent immigration of asylum seekers.

"You see, Per!" the big one said. "Things never get as bad as people think. And this big influx is going to prove me right again. First of all, very few people will choose to go up here. And those who do will be willing to work for peanuts. They are not going to cause any problems at all. And you can have a servant in your house... Heck... You can have two or three if you please."
"Yeah," Thomas agreed. "I'm pretty sure you're right. All this fear is completely misplaced... You know... We're having a fence put up around our barracks up at the checkpoint. It's a complete waste of time and money if you ask me."
"You are?" Per asked. "Isn't that an indication that things are in fact going to turn sour pretty soon. I don't think the military is putting up a fence just for the heck of it, budgets being as tight as they are these days."

The big blond guy looked at Thomas with a spark of frustration in his eye, clearly not finding Thomas' remark very helpful.

"But you have to admit, Lundby is not at all the place it has been made out to be," the big guy continued. "The only ones selling their houses at the current prices are people who have bought the crap they are telling us through the media. This place is thriving, and I can assure you that it will be just as peaceful and thriving in the future too. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity."

The waitress came with Bjorn's beer, and this caused the conversation to stop while Bjorn fished out a token to pay for his brew. Then, once the waitress left, Bjorn felt like breaking into the conversation.

"So, why are you so eager to push this house on Per?" Bjorn asked. "Sorry to interfere, but I'm curious."
The big guy sighed, as if Bjorn was asking a question for the thousandth time. "It's not me pushing this house," he said in his defence. "Per here has been moaning about how expensive everything is in Kirkenes, and how he wants a proper place to live, and I've been telling him that he should buy a place in Lundby. And now that there is a house for sale, I thought it an idea to bring him along for a tour just to see what a great place this is."
"You guys are colleagues?" Bjorn asked, trying to pin down their relationship to each other.
"Yeah," Per answered. "Ola is my boss. We are engineers... Miners if you like... Over at the iron mine by the port."
"And you've never been to Lundby," Bjorn asked. "I mean... The village."
"No."
"Yeah, isn't that crazy?" Ola blurted out, not able to hold back his frustration with his colleague. "I mean... There we are, going every day to the mines, and Per never once goes to the village to check it out... Not once!"

There was a pause as this insult sank in. Bjorn felt almost embarrassed about it, and took a big sip of his beer to hide his feeling of awkwardness. But Espen quickly filled the vacuum with a quick question.

"But now that you've seen it, you like it? Don't you?" he asked.
"Sure, it's a great place."
"So your only concern is that things may get messy when the asylum seekers come flying in?" Thomas asked.
"Yeah... I mean... You saw the news on TV, right?"
"We did," Thomas confirmed.

There was another pause in the conversation, and Ola leant back, looking for the waitress while asking the men if they too felt thirsty. Espen and Thomas looked at their nearly empty glasses, answering that they too could do with another beer. Per agreed, and Ola signalled with four fingers in the air to the waitress that they were ready for more beer.

"So your concern is purely related to security?" Bjorn asked, continuing the conversation.
"Yeah," Per answered with a nod.
"Have you considered buying insurance... There's this company called Lance..."
"Exactly!" Ola exclaimed, breaking Bjorn off in mid sentence. "That's what I have been telling him all along. My wife and I have bought insurance from Pedro. And it does not cost very much at all."
"You live here?" Bjorn asked redundantly.
"Sure!"
"And you trust Pedro?"
"He's a friend of Jan, and Jan trusts him. That's saying quite a bit."
"You know Jan too?"
"Well, we've only talked to Pedro briefly, so we don't really know Pedro. But my wife and Jan have known each other since for ever."
"Really?"
"Yeah... Jan is a childhood friend of my wife's father, and Jan's father was the one who stopped the guys in Oslo from completely gutting the factory."
"The factory?" Bjorn asked, a little lost.
"The fish processing plant," Ola explained helpfully. "My wife reopened it just this Wednesday."
"You're married to Ane?" Bjorn asked in disbelief.
"Yeah... Do you know her?"

83

"So, what are you up to here in Lundby?" Bjorn asked the tall Italian as they entered the casino.
"We're carpenters," the Italian answered with some pride. "We're working on the apartment building behind the church."
"The one down by the water?" Bjorn asked.
"Exactly."

Bjorn nodded thoughtfully as he followed the Italians in the direction of the roulette table, in the room  to the left, behind the staircase.

"I'm doing the flooring," the man explained. Then, with a toss of his head in the direction of his colleague to his left he continued. "Mario here is taking care of the skirting, and Lorenzo is our cabinets guy."
"Sounds serious," Bjorn remarked, impressed by the high degree of specialization. "So you don't do a bit of everything each? Wouldn't that be more fun?"
"Not really, the stuff we are doing hasn't been done since Venice was a republic. You really have to be an expert to get it right. And, to be honest, I'm pretty blank on both skirting and cabinets."

Bjorn found it hard to believe that skirting was actually a field that required specialization. Cabinets, on the other hand were another matter. Cabinets may require a high degree of specialization, but skirting? Wasn't that just a matter of cutting some planks into proper lengths before attaching them to the walls?

Bjorn vented his scepticism.
"Well, Lorenzo could probably do both skirting and flooring just as well as Mario and me," the tall Italian explained. "But he's the only one of us who knows how to do cabinets the old fashioned way. I mean... It would be a complete waste to have him do any of our jobs."
"But skirting and flooring is in fact very different fields," Mario added, having followed the conversation closely. "Those are no ordinary floors Georgio is putting in. And the skirting is not just a bunch of narrow planks. We're talking top of the line luxury stuff."

Bjorn was again surprised. The apartment building, although large and elegant, did not look like a palace, but the inside was evidently another matter.

"It looks deceptively ordinary from the outside," Bjorn commented.
"It does," Georgio agreed. "But they have some wild plans for the garden."
"Garden?" Bjorn asked. "Are they going to plant a garden up here in the arctic?"
"They are."
"Really? How? I mean, this is the arctic after all. Hardly anything grows up here."
"They are going to put up glass domes," Mario explained. "And it is not like they will plant tropical plants. Just ordinary sturdy garden plants common further south in Norway."

It all sounded doable, but insane. This was Lundby, after all. A modern day gulag of sorts. And here he was talking to expert carpenters from Venice, describing a building project so luxurious that only the very best carpenters can complete it.

"So, who's behind this project?" Bjorn asked.
"Pedro," Georgio answered.
"Ah... King Pedro the Great!" Bjorn said with a smile. "The mad scientist, or whatever."

The Italians laughed. Even Lorenzo who had been curiously quiet during the conversation smiled.

"He's actually a nice guy," Lorenzo commented. "Surprisingly down to earth."
"Yeah," Mario added. "He's not the only one moving in there when the place is finished. Your foreign minister is also getting an apartment. And so is Mons... I'm not sure who is moving into the fourth apartment, though."
"Mons?" Bjorn asked. "Who is Mons?"
"Oh... You don't know?" Marius asked, genuinely surprised. "He's the owner of the port and iron mine."
"The ship owner?"
"Yeah... Pedro's friend."

Bjorn looked around in the room they were standing. People were placing bets on the roulette table, and over by the wall, there was a Black Jack table with people also betting against the house. Bjorn felt that he had talked enough to the Italians, and signalled that he was ready to go back to his colleagues, thanking the men for the pleasant and interesting conversation.

The Italians too, seemed ready to end the conversation at this point, but Mario had a final question for Bjorn.

"So, what are you doing up here?" Mario asked. "Are you from Kirkenes?"
"No, I´m from Oslo," Bjorn explained. "I work as a guard up at the Lundby Neiden checkpoint."
"Ah... Really!" Mario exclaimed with a sly smile. "So you are watching an arbitrary line, making sure that the rules on one side are not the same as those on the other side?"

Bjorn was caught a little off guard by this comment, and had to think a bit before he answered.

"Arbitrary?" Bjorn asked rhetorically. "It's hardly arbitrary. It's drawn by the foreign minister himself... And, someone has to make sure the asylum seekers don't escape."
"Sure," Mario answered, still smiling. "But just remember, in the Fifth Empire there are no borders, only property lines."
"And what's the difference?" Bjorn asked.
"I'm sure you can figure that out for yourself if you think about it," Mario said with a wave of the hand. "Chao!"

82

There was a steady stream of people entering the casino, mostly Norwegians but foreigners too. Bjorn recognized the three Italians from Nora's place among the foreign looking ones, and the two big Norwegian men who had been sitting to the side of their table also appeared a little later.

Pretty soon, just about every table in the room was occupied, and the waiter who had served the men so efficiently when they came in was suddenly busy going back and forth between the bar and her other customers. A big black guy appeared in the bar to help her, and soon afterwards two Asian girls also joined her.

Most people ordered their drinks at the tables, but there were people going up to the bar too, and this was evidently all right with the bartender who managed to serve both the customers at the bar and fulfil the orders coming in from the tables. Everything was dynamic and flexible, and the girls would at times help the bartender draw beer, or do other simple tasks while he put together more sophisticated drinks.

The hustle and bustle of the place was pleasing to watch from where Bjorn was sitting, and he was only half listening to his colleagues' conversations when he caught eye of a man in a black tuxedo entering from a door in the back together with two stunningly beautiful women.

"Is that Jan?" Bjorn asked, breaking into Ante's description of a particularly delicious desert that he once had on a vacation in France.

Bjorn's colleagues turned in the direction of Bjorn's glance, and immediately confirmed his suspicion.

"And those are his two daughters," Ante added.
"They are beautiful," Bjorn said, taking in the sight of them casually and elegantly crossing the floor in the direction of the stage.
"You're not kidding!" Frank agreed, adding a dreamy "yum yum".
"But you better behave when they are around," Ante continued. "Jan has a way of fixing things he doesn't like, so you better not get on the wrong side of him."

Jan, immediately followed by his two daughters, climbed two steps at the side of the stage, and proceeded to the centre, right in front of the velvet curtain. Confidently and dramatically taking up their position, Jan started speaking by lifting a wireless microphone and welcoming everyone to his casino. His daughters then took turns pointing out the facilities of the premises, and going through the repertoire of the evening.

Then there was applause by the guests as the three returned from where they had entered, and shortly after, the stage curtain was lifted, and a small band got going playing an old hit from when Bjorn was a student at a University in England. He was immediately hit by a sense of nostalgia and déjà vu, and for some reason, this gave him an irresistible urge for a cigarette. He could not sit still, and excused himself to his colleagues as he got up and out, first in the direction of the dance floor, and then to the exits.

And Bjorn was apparently not the only one who had a sudden urge for a cigarette. The three Italians were also heading for the exit, and Bjorn almost bumped into one of them as they headed for the same door.

"Excuse me," Bjorn said politely.
"That's all right," the Italian replied with a smile.

Once outside, Bjorn pulled out a cigarette, but even before he had time to put it in his mouth, a bouncer came up to him, asking him politely to go to the designated smoking area a little up to the side.

"We don't want any smoke right here at the entrance," the bouncer explained.
"Oh... I see..." Bjorn replied, taking his cigarette with him to the little row of chairs set out on the sidewalk together with paraffin heaters and small tables with ash trays for the convenience of the smokers.

Bjorn lit his cigarette, and seeing that he was standing right next to one of the Italians he asked him where he was from.

"Venice," the man answered, nodding his head as if this was very significant.
"Italy?" Bjorn added in way of explanation.
"Nah... There's no Italy anymore... Never was, really..."
"But isn't Venice in Italy?" Bjorn asked, not getting what the man was driving at.
"Sure... But what is Italy?"

Bjorn went silent. The question seemed silly, and he got a feeling the man was just being difficult.

"We're from the Republic of Venice, you see," one of the other Italians continued. "We're not very fond of the Romans."
"The Romans?" Bjorn asked, even more confused.
"Well... You heard what happened, right?"
"To your republic you mean?" Bjorn asked, glimpsing some sanity in the conversation.
"Yeah."
"Well... you had a referendum... and it was crushed."
"By the Romans," the Italian added.
"You mean the central government in Rome," Bjorn added helpfully.
"Exactly."

Bjorn thought for a moment before continuing.

"So how can you be from the Republic of Venice when it got crushed by the... Romans?"
"You can't crush an idea," the third Italian explained.
"You can't live in it either," Bjorn countered.
"So why do you think we live in Italy? Italy is just as much an idea as our Republic."

Bjorn went silent again, puffing a few times on his cigarette before continuing.

"Last time I checked a map of Europe I distinctly remember seeing Italy. I can't remember seeing any mention of a Venetian republic."
"And yet it exists," the Italian replied stubbornly. "Just like the empire."
"The empire?" Bjorn asked with a smile of disbelief. "The Roman Empire?"
"Yes and no," the Italian countered. "But I was thinking of the Fifth."
"The Fifth Empire?" Bjorn asked. "What are you babbling about?"

The Italians looked at each other as if deciding among themselves if it would be worth their time to explain their position. Then, one of them continued.

"The Fifth Empire is the place you end up the moment you reject the current world order and embrace the idea of total autonomy."
"You know," Bjorn answered with a smile. "That makes absolutely no sense at all... But go ahead, I'm listening!"
"The current world order only exists because people believe in it."
"Sure... That makes sense in a way."
"If no one took our politicians and rulers seriously, they would be powerless over us."
"Yeah..."
"The Fifth Empire is the community of all those who reject the notion that they need to be ruled over by others."

Bjorn took in this last explanation, and it seemed to make some sense to him, even if he could not imagine any of this having any practical implications. But as a fanciful idea, it was kind of cute.

"So where is the Fifth Empire?" Bjorn asked.
"We are standing in it," the Italian said with a confident smile.
"Lundby is an empire?" Bjorn asked in disbelief, and unable to hide his sarcasm he added "some empire you got her, I must say."

The Italians looked at Bjorn, also smiling, as if they thought him the confused one.

"All empires are in the end nothing more than the sum of the people believing in them," the tallest one of them continued patiently. "National borders are but lines on maps. They are only physical in the sense that people believing in them are spending time patrolling them. Once they stop believing in them, the borders themselves will be gone."

"We," the tall one continued, meaning him and his two friends, "are living in the Fifth Empire. And it makes no difference if we are in Venice or in Lundby, or wherever, because the empire is an idea. And it will dominate the world... You, on the other hand is not in the empire, because you have not entered it."

"And how, may I ask, can I enter the empire?" Bjorn asked.
"You enter the empire by declaring yourself a citizen of it," the tall one explained helpfully, and Bjorn immediately got a creepy feeling that he was talking to a member of some weird sect.

But there was no push by the Italians to convert or otherwise convince Bjorn that he should somehow involve himself in their sect, and since they all finished their cigarettes more or less at the same time, they all headed back into the casino as if they had known each other for some time.

81

Thomas was clearly embarrassed by the prostitutes, and did not even reply to their advances. However, Frank and Ante made a few quick remarks that were neither rude nor dismissive, before entering the casino.

"Not now Ladies!" Frank said with a smile.
"Let us at least get a few drink first!" Ante continued.

The girls remained outside in the cold as the men entered the casino, and Ante asked a bouncer on the way in to keep an eye on them.

"Don't let them bother us," Ante said. "We're not really up for that kind of fun tonight."
"Sure," the bouncer answered. "We're keeping an eye on them. Just let us know if they get too offensive."

The casino was still relatively empty, but that suited the men just fine since it gave them an opportunity to find a table with a nice view of both the bar and the dance floor, as well as a stage that was hidden behind a velvet curtain.

Almost immediately on sitting down a very attractive black girl appeared from behind the bar, ready to take the men's orders. They all ordered a beer, with the exception of Ante who ordered an alcohol free cocktail.

"We prefer it if you pay as soon as you get your drinks," the girl informed the men in excellent English. "Alternatively, we can put it on your Gram card if you prefer."
"Nah, we all have plenty of tokens," Ante replied. "We'll pay as we go."

The men took off their jackets and laid them on a little shelf on the wall behind them, and Thomas put the weight of his balloon on top of the pile of jackets, so that the balloon became suspended above the pile as an easily recognisable landmark. And when their waiter returned with their drinks, they all paid immediately with their casino tokens. The woman was quick to find change for everyone, and disappeared quickly behind the bar again where she appeared to check the received tokens for counterfeits, just like Aung had done in the restaurant.

"So we can't smoke in here, but guns are allowed," Espen commented, looking over at Frank with his gun and gun belt clearly visible.
"Smoking kills!" Frank answered with a smile. "You know! Guns don't kill people... I kill people... with guns."

Frank leant back in his chair, pleased with his joke, and his colleagues smiled in response.

"But seriously! What sort of a twisted place is this, where smoking is forbidden, yet guns are all right?" Espen continued.
"I guess the owner doesn't like smokers," Thomas replied. "It's his casino after all."
"Or maybe he figures most people actually prefer a smoke free environment, and that he will get more people into his casino if he bans smoking," Bjorn suggested.
"Hard to say," Ante replied before taking a sip of his cocktail. "Only Jan knows... Why don't you ask him when you see him, Espen... I'm sure he'll appear again tonight."

80

Thomas tried to conveniently forget about the balloon on his way out of Nora's place, but was prevented from leaving it behind by his colleagues who insisted on him taking it with him to the casino. And seeing no way around this, Thomas put the weight at the end of the string in the breast pocket of his shirt. He then put his jacket on, zipped it up, and stepped out in the cool evening air with the balloon hanging above his head.

The air was completely still which made the walk back to the village square quite pleasant despite the low temperature. Even Frank, in his light summer jacket seemed to be doing all right in the cold.

Another family from Kirkenes, by the look of it, came walking up the other way, and the mother in the group asked if they were returning from Nora's place.

"Yes, we are!" Ante answered, delighted to help.
"So there will be a table ready for us when we get there?" the mother continued.
"I guess they are preparing the table as we speak!"
"Oh, that's good to hear. You see we are a little early."

Ante checked his watch. "Yeah, I see... We finished our seating early... I guess we could have hung around for another fifteen minutes."
"And it's right over there, right?" The woman asked, pointing to Nora's place.
"Yes! That's it... Enjoy the food! It´s fantastic."
"Yes, we will!" the woman answered before thanking the men and leading her group onwards to the restaurant.

The small talk put a smile on Ante's face, perking him up even more. "I love helping people out," Ante commented as he too was aware of his positive reaction to the woman's simple questions. And his colleagues nodded in agreement.

"There's something wonderful about being nice," Bjorn agreed. "I think that's pretty universal."
"And yet there's no end to the wars and riots, it seems," Thomas continued without dismissing Bjorn's thesis.

But before they had any time to continue their philosophical musings, they were again asked to help. This time by a man in a casual grey uniform, with the logo of Lance Security displayed both on his jacket and on his military style hat.

"Have you seen anyone loitering around here?" the man asked in broken English.
"No!" Ante answered, again quick to be of help. "Only a family heading for Nora's place."
"No teenagers?"
"Among the family members?"
"No. On their own?" the man corrected, looking anxiously in the direction of Nora's place.

The man did not wait for an answer, as he seemed to have caught sight of something, and left the men wondering what was going on as he started running towards the restaurant. Not being in a hurry, the men watched the security officer disappear around a corner, only to reappear a little later right behind the family at Nora's doorstep.

Nothing much happened after this, and the men resumed their walk towards the casino. The last they saw of the security officer was him first talking to Aung, and then remaining on the porch before drifting into the garden, disappearing behind the house, clearly still looking for the teenagers he was looking for.

"I thought they did not have any police in the village," Espen commented on the episode as they neared the village square.
"Well, that guy was working for Pedro," Bjorn replied, happy to show off some knowledge on the subject.
"Really?" Frank asked.
"Lance Security," Bjorn continued. "It's Pedro's insurance company."
"Insurance company?" Espen asked. "But that was a police officer of sorts, not an insurance sales man."
"Sure," Bjorn answered. "But there are no police in Lundby, so I guess the insurance companies have to pay for their policing themselves."

The men went silent on this latest comment until Thomas nodded in agreement. "That does make sense," he concluded, with his colleagues joining in with nods and grunts of their own.

The village square was as busy as always, and paraffin lamps, hung from the roofs of the stands, lit it all up in a pleasant warm glow. And some of the store fronts at the far end of the square were also open, with a few people window shopping in the cool arctic night. There was a kiosk selling all sorts of stuff, including PC's, mobile phones and other electronic equipment, a drycleaner, and a fashion store, all of which had escaped Bjorn's attention on his first trip to Lundby.

Pingo was still open across the square from the casino, and so was the petrol station, both still doing good business, although less so than when the men arrived earlier in the evening. And the men laying down the final bit of side walk in front of the casino were finishing up their work at the far end of the big building that used to be the local administration office for public services, according to Ante who pointed out the irony of a public building being turned into something as un-Norwegian as a house of sins.

"Everything goes in there," Ante said with a smile. "Except smoking your cigarettes."

Ante pointed to the familiar circular signs with a line crossing out a lit cigarette, posted on either side of the entrance and on every door going into the casino. And it was clear that people followed the rule, as there were plenty of smokers standing outside with their cigarettes in hand, huddling around paraffin heaters set out for comfort. But just as Bjorn was about to make a comment on this, they were all approached by two scanty clad black girls commenting on Thomas' balloon. "Hey birthday boy!" they said with mischievous glee. "Are you ready for a party?"

75

There had been quite a lot of progress made at the building site at the top of the long straight road going down to the village square, and Bjorn, fascinated by the ambitious project, leant forward to take it all in. The concrete walls at the base of the building were in place, and the beginning of a stairwell and two elevator shafts could also be seen together with numerous columns.

Bjorn was about to wonder out loud about the insanity of building anything this large in a small arctic village when Ante made a remark about the road instead. "They really did do a good job of filling in those potholes," he said as he drove the car slowly down towards the village square. And shortly afterwards he commented happily on the activity down at the village square. "Well, things have clearly been happening while I've been away!" he said. "Just look at all those stalls!"

And even over the two days since Bjorn last was in Lundby, the village square had seen noticeable changes. There were more stalls, and all but a few of them were now under improvised roofs. It was now looking more like a real market, and business was as brisk as ever.

"Look at all those people!" Ante blurted out enthusiastically as they entered the road circling the square. "Are there anyone left in Kirkenes? It sure looks like everyone decided to come here for the night."
"Well, there were some people coming all the way from Alta this morning, up at the check point," Bjorn added, confirming Ante's impression that people were coming from far and wide to visit the village. "That's quite encouraging, don't you think?"
"Sure is!"

Cars were lining up for cheap petrol over at the petrol station, and Pingo was evidently doing well too, with people coming out with cartloads of stuff. Not everyone were in Lundby for a night out. Some were clearly heading back home now that the sun was setting.

There were a lot of cars parked over at the knoll down by the water, but there was no shortage of empty parking space to choose from, so Ante had no trouble finding a place for his car. And as soon as he stopped his car, everyone stepped out of it to stretch their legs, eager to get started on their adventure.

The very first thing they needed to do was to buy some local currency over at the casino, since everyone but Bjorn seemed to be short on Gram tokens. So they all headed across the square, skirting the market in order to get to the casino as quickly as possible.

"It makes no sense," Espen complained as they strolled along. "Why do they insist on using those tokens instead of real money? It only complicates things."
"It's to make it all the more difficult for the locals to escape this place," Thomas explained. "The tokens are not legal tender. They cannot be used outside the village, so if someone manages to escape, they will still be stuck since they will have no money to pay their way to Oslo."
"Is that so?" Frank asked, apparently new to this fact.
"The foreign minister said something to that effect the other day, on TV," Bjorn added helpfully, finding Thomas' explanation reasonable and logical, at least on the face of it.

The men walked in silence for a bit until they reached the casino with its new sidewalk being completed. The north corner was still being worked on, but the rest was fully in place, and it looked great. Ante was again enthusiastic about the changes, and was almost besides himself of praise for the fancy bit of artistry that had been accomplished since his last visit. But there was no time to dwell on this as they were all eager to get their tokens to start the evening.

The casino was nothing more than a large space divided into various sections, where the area close to the entrance was reserved for money exchange. There was a staircase going up to the next floor across from these counters, and beyond that there was a bar and a small stage, and off to the right, a section dedicated to gambling. There were hardly anyone in the bar, and only a few people by the slot machines, so the main activity in the casino was at the moment the exchange of real money for tokens.

Bjorn knew from experience, and from being told so by Ante, that many people would not accept any kind of real money, credit cards or electronic payments in the village, making it essential to have cash in the form of Gram tokens even for people like Ante who had earlier acquired a card for himself, as well as a card for paying for produces in Pingo. And when Bjorn's four colleagues lined up to get some tokens, Bjorn figured he'd buy some for himself too, just in case. Bjorn felt confident that he would come back to the village in the future too, so a few extra tokens would not go to waste. "Better to have a few tokens too many than too few," he thought to himself as he lined up behind Espen.

Thomas and Ante lined up at a counter to Bjorn's left, and Frank stepped up to a counter to Bjorn's right, marked clearly with a sign saying "Gold Members Only". Bjorn's immediate thought about this was that Frank must have overlooked the sign, but that was evidently not the case. Frank presented a gold card and was promptly given a small stacks of tokens in return.

Ante on his side, presenting a plain green card to the cashier was informed that he could better use one of the automatic teller machines over by the staircase, unless he had special banking needs he wanted to take care of as well. And realizing that the man in front of him was filling in a form to get a bank card, Espen too headed over to the ATM machines, followed by Bjorn and Thomas.

The ATM machines accepted various types of credit cards as well as real money and the local bank card that Ante was carrying, so there was no need to waste the cashier's time. However, Espen got very upset when he discovered that the exchange rate had actually gone up by a bit since last time he bought Gram tokens, despite the fact that the gold price had cratered a full twenty percent over the last week.

"What the hell is this?" Espen asked rhetorically. "They are ripping us off!" And with this he walked over to the cashier at one of the counters to demand an explanation.

"Well, that is the exchange rate we are offering," the lady behind the counter said blandly. "If you think it too much, feel free to find someone willing to part with their tokens for less."
"But that's absurd!" Espen insisted. "You're the only one selling these things."
"Exactly," the lady retorted, unimpressed by Espen's argument. "That's because no one except us are willing to part with these tokens at lower prices."
"But the gold price is down twenty percent," Espen protested.
"But this is not gold... These are tokens backed by gold... If you are interested in gold, we can arrange for that too. At the current spot price, you can get gold delivered in six months from now. However, if you want your gold now, you will have to pay the current Gram price, plus our service charge."

65

It was slowly getting darker outside, and Bjorn's reflection in the window was starting to bother him, so he got up of his chair and pulled the curtains shut for the night. Then, once he was seated again, he clicked his way back to the complaint made against Pedro.

From reading the complaint, it was clear that the journalist over at the Gazette had pick much of her material directly from the Blacklist. But there was also no doubt that the journalist had in fact been talking to both the stall owners and Pedro to get the full story. The complaint was relatively short and to the point, basically claiming that Pedro had no right to the village square, that the village square belonged to the people of Lundby, and that no one had the right to impose any kind of tax or restriction on the stall owners.

Pedro on his side begged to differ, of course, pointing to his claim to all the pubic areas of Lundby, including the village square. Directly below Pedro's comment, Jan had a short comment directed at both the stall owners and Pedro, suggesting they sort out their differences in his office in the casino. And directly under Jan's comment, there was a third and final comment written by the same Maria that had made a comment on Jan and Pedro's complaint against Ane.

Maria's comment was directed directly at the stall owners, basically saying that their complaint was confused and muddled, and lacking in precision, her main objection being that the village square could not possibly belongs to "the people" since no such entity exists. Then she went on to say that she would not touch the case before the stall owners sort out among themselves what exactly they were asking for.

And quite understandably, Maria's comment had a long tail of sub-comments, all from the plaintiffs, basically saying that she was the one confused, and that a further specification of who "the people" were was in any case besides the point. The stall owners had no intention of paying any kind of rent or tribute to Pedro, and would resist any attempt to force them into doing so.

"So, who is this Maria," Bjorn wondered. "Clearly some sort of self styled lawyer, judging from her pretentious remark about not wanting to touch the case." And with this in mind Bjorn clicked on her name in order to find out more which brought up the fact sheet on her, showing that she was not involved in any disputes at the moment. Bjorn clicked on Maria's name again to go to her personal details page which turned out to be surprisingly elaborate, with a picture of her face, a list of achievements and a whole lot of data on her career and education.

Maria was indeed a self styled lawyer of sorts, running a company called Independent Law. Maria offered what she called "arbitration services", claiming extensive experience with "private law", and her comments on the Blacklist were clearly all part of a marketing strategy from her side. By offering a quick initial analysis of the various disputes in the village, she was showing off her legal skills with a hope to attract paying customers for her arbitration services.

Bjorn looked at the picture of the woman with her thick black hair and almost child like appearance. She looked friendly and approachable, in contrast to her remarks on the Blacklist which had been pointy and almost aggressive in their criticism of the complaints. Then, looking over to the right hand margin of the page, Bjorn's attention was drawn to an ad that had stayed with him throughout his browsing of the Blacklist, but not caught his attention before now. It displayed a stylized icon of St. George slaying the dragon, under which it read Lance Security in gold letters, followed by a sub-title with the text: "To Serve and Protect".

"But isn't that Pedro's company?" Bjorn wondered, surprised to see an ad by Pedro on a web site containing a scathing denouncement of him. "Why is Pedro sponsoring a web site full of bickering and conflict mongering?"

Bjorn clicked on the ad to learn more about Pedro's business, which he now suspected to be involved in something different from what he had first assumed. Reading about Pedro as the CEO of Lance, Bjorn had simply assumed that Lance was a company involved in the prison and detention camp industry, which was one of the few businesses currently doing well, with economic crisis and political unrest spreading like wildfire everywhere. But it made no sense for such a company to have an ad on the Blacklist, so Bjorn was now very much doubting his first assumption. And as it turned out, Lance was not a private prison company, or any such thing.

Lance Security was an insurance company offering what it called "disaster insurance", defined as "high cost, low probability events", with "criminal loss" being its core business, and accident and health insurance being offered as add-ons. The idea was that a person could start off by insuring him or herself against criminal loss, and then add on insurance for loss of property and health as needed. The basic product would pay out up to a thousand Gram in the event of loss of life, health or property due to a criminal event. And this basic insurance cost a "mere" half a Gram per year.

The basic product could be scaled up, from a maximum of a thousand Gram to as much as ten thousand Gram, by agreeing to pay correspondingly more in premiums. Adding accident and health to the basic product increased the cost in a similar manner. The insured person could in other words not buy anything cheaper than the basic product, so Lance's target customers were clearly people for whom a disaster would result in losses up to or beyond a full Kilogram of gold. And the website confirmed this by stating specifically that losses below ten Gram would not be compensated. However, all criminal losses should be reported regardless, it said, since a group action against a criminal element may nevertheless result in a pay out, even for minor losses.

Bjorn leant back in his office chair, contemplating what he had just read, and feeling content that he had finally found something concrete about Pedro's business in Lundby. Not only was Pedro claiming ownership of all public property in the village, he was aiming to make money off of people's fears as well.

64

The article on the conflict between the stall owners and Pedro had a link to the formal complaint logged by the stall owners, and curious to see what this looked like, Bjorn clicked on it to have it come up on his screen. The page with the complaint was set in a dark frame, with "The Blacklist" written in grey letters, as if set in stone, at the top. The subtitle stated, also in grey letters, that "all are innocent until proven guilty." And next to the title, there was a search field, and an option to go to an advanced search page.

The complaint itself was tidy and clean cut, with its title displayed at the top, followed by some basic information, such as status and location, a full list of the plaintiffs and the name of the defendant. Each person in the list was highlighted with a link, presumably to get to more details on each individual, and still curious to learn as much as he could about Pedro, Bjorn clicked on his name to see what more, if anything, the Blacklist had on him.

But instead of going directly to more personal information on Pedro, the link directed Bjorn to a short fact sheet containing only his name and contact details together with a list of accusations and another list of grievances in which he was presently involved. To get more personal details on Pedro, Bjorn had to click on Pedro's name again, but the page on Pedro was kept down to a bare minimum with no more than his full name and minimal contact details filled in.

So it was clear that Pedro's personal information page at the Blacklist did not tell Bjorn anything new. However, the short fact sheet on him did in fact tell Bjorn a little more, because it did not only list the dispute with the stall owners under open grievances against him, it also listed a dispute in which he was a plaintiff. Pedro was listed as having a grievance against Ane, and this surprised Bjorn so much that once he saw it he clicked the link to see what it was all about.

And sure enough, there it was. Pedro and Jan were complaining about Ane's fish factory. They were concerned about the pollution coming from it due to all the untreated fish waste that she was dumping into the fjord, and they wanted her to clean up her act. Their personal grievance against Ane was that her disregard for the environment would soon cause a stench, and thus negatively affect the value of the casino and the village square.

Bjorn looked at the date of the complaint, thinking it odd that it had been logged so soon after the factory had been opened. The factory was after all, only opened the day before, and it could not possibly be the case that the environment was already affected by this. And it looked like someone had had the exact same thought, because someone called Maria had made a comment on the complaint, very much to that effect. However, while Bjorn was reading Maria's short comment, another comment appeared, this one directed to Maria, and authored by Jan, saying that "we don't need to wait for the inevitable. There is no doubt that the untreated sewage will cause problems, and that this will damage our properties. Ane cannot simply ship her stench over to us without any kind of compensation. And it is not like the technology to treat her waste does not exist."

"Boy! These people don't kid around, do they?" Bjorn thought to himself. Then, curious to see what the Blacklist had on Ane, he clicked on her name to get up her short fact sheet, and then on her name again to go to her personal details. However, Ane's personal details page was not filled in. Instead the page asked him politely to fill in the page if he happened to be Ane. However, right below the polite invitation to fill in the details was a stern warning. "Do not fill in this page if you are not in fact Ane, or a person authorized by Ane," it said in bold red lettering. "Any abuse of the Blacklist is a crime and will be treated accordingly."

63

Bjorn looked up from his computer screen while contemplating the arguments laid out by Pedro and the stall owners. The sun setting behind the mountains to the north west of Lundby made the sky flare up in the same dramatic fashion as it had done when Bjorn first arrived at the checkpoint, less than a week ago. It was a truly impressive view. Stunning and eerily cold and indifferent, as if completely immune to anything anyone might want to do to it. Watching it from the comfort of his office chair was delightfully meditative, making his thoughts move freely from one thing to another.

Bjorn found Pedro's argument quite revealing in that it exposed a motive for Pedro's decision to go into the deal with the foreign minister in the first place. The village was at the time completely uninhabited, and it was not unreasonable of Pedro to think that his promise to maintain public properties would include a right to "tax" anyone using these properties. And with a growing population, the money he could get through taxation would increase.

However, Pedro had not actually made his claim to the public properties widely known, so it was quite understandable that the stall owners felt that they had a right to use the village square without paying any dues to Pedro. And with this in mind, Bjorn returned to the article he was reading, feeling empathy for the squatters who were fighting for their right to be left alone.

The leaflets handed out by Pedro's men had come as a complete surprise to the stall owners, and feeling threatened by Pedro's sudden land claim, some of the stall owners had immediately gone ahead and bought themselves handguns over at Gus's gun store. And shortly after, the stall owners had formed a union, agreeing to stand together against what they felt was an attempt at extortion.

The union of stall owners, with its armed members, had in turn caused concern over at the casino, which prompted Jan to arm his employees, just in case the squatters would get the idea that they could do anything they wanted now that they have banded together. But the stall owners were quick to contact Jan, assuring him that they had no other agenda than to protect their right to be left alone. And having no interest in frightening their customers they agreed among themselves that they would keep their weapons concealed, and continue their peaceful activities as if nothing had happened.

Eager to find a peaceful resolution to what could potentially lead to an ugly situation right across from his casino, Jan volunteered to act as a mediator between the stall owners and Pedro, with a further suggestion that the stall owners not only complain directly to Pedro, but also make their case public by publishing a formal statement on the Blacklist, a website specifically designed for public grievances.

And it was the public statement made on the Blacklist that had drawn the attention of the journalist to the rapidly escalating conflict. It had prompted her to go out and get the full story, interviewing both the stall owners and Jan and his people. But, unable to reach Pedro, the only statement in his defence was the short reply made by him to the formal complaint on the Blacklist. Pedro's unwavering position was that since he had taken on obligations to take care of public properties in Lundby, he had in effect also received the right to demand rent from these same properties.

51

The foreign minister was busy defending Norway's military actions in Libya as well as his own involvement in it in what was clearly a well orchestrated interview with no surprise questions.

"Simply bombing rebel positions is not enough to ensure security for our national interests," the foreign minister explained. "We will need an additional five hundred men in order to defend our economic interests in that country, which coincidentally are one and the same as the interest of the Libyan people. Only a stable and peaceful environment can ensure prosperity for all, and as a leading peace nation we have a particular moral duty to make this happen."

The economic interests the foreign minister was talking of were of course the oil fields in which the state controlled oil company, Statoil, was heavily invested. However, this was not mentioned by a word, nor did the interviewer make any inquiry into what the foreign minister was referring to by his words. Instead, she moved on to ask him why he, and not the minister of defence, was in charge of the operations.

"The answer here, of course, comes down to the nature of our involvement in Libya," the foreign minister replied with a confident smile. "Since we are not at war, but simply helping the Libyans in their struggle to rebuild their national institutions after decades of neglect under the deposed dictatorship, our involvement can best be described as foreign aid, which falls under my department. What the Libyan people are labouring under on a daily basis is the absence of good national institutions, and the first and foremost of these is of course the institution of law and order which can only be achieved by legitimate and dispassionate force. Hence the involvement of our armed forces."

"Libya is not at war," the foreign minister continued. "It is burdened by civil unrest, and we have a duty to the world community to take our share of that burden. All of this has been laid out in detail by the UN, and we cannot simply ignore this and pretend that things will sort themselves out without our involvement. Such an approach has already been tried, with terrible consequences, and no one wants to see a repeat of that."

And again the foreign minister was referring to things without mentioning them. Neither the foreign minister nor the interviewer felt it necessary to explain that the terrible consequence referred to was a particularly bloody attack on a Statoil installation in the south of Libya where almost everyone had been killed in cold blood. Those that tried to escape were gunned down, and those that surrendered were ritually beheaded. The videos of the beheadings went viral on the Internet, and were in large part responsible for the surge in support for the foreign minister's anti-immigration party, which in turn won him a seat in the current government, and ultimately his current position as foreign minister.

Having risen to his current position on the back of the outrage that the bloody attack had caused, the man clearly felt that no further explanation was necessary. And the interviewer, presumably no big fan of the foreign minister, had even less of a desire to delve into the memories of the terrible incident.

After a few more questions about Libya where the foreign minister got the chance to repeat his objection to the word "war", re-emphasizing instead that this was all about foreign aid and nation building, the interviewer changed the subject to Lundby, which made Bjorn sit up and pay even closer attention. "Another mention of us," Bjorn thought. "We really are about to become famous!"

"Some say that the colony violates our constitution, and is in breach of basic human rights," the interviewer said with a stern face.
"Well, that is simply not true," the foreign minister replied, brushing aside the question. "Moving all asylum seekers to Lundby is a hugely popular move, with a recent pole showing more than seventy percent of eligible voters in favour of it, and it is in no way contrary to our constitution. Such a assertion is simply political nonsense."

"But what about the claim that the colony is in conflict with the indivisible sovereignty of Norway?"
"Well, first of all, Lundby is not a colony. It is as much a part of Norway as any other part. The fact that it has been turned into an asylum centre does not make it any different from any other place with special rules, such as airports, prisons, and, well, asylum centres. We have merely moved and co-located the centres already in Norway to a remote location where the inhabitants will be unable to cause stress or anxiety among ordinary Norwegians."

"And what about the claim that there is a casino up there? Isn't that in violation with Norwegian law?"
"Well, it is true that there is a casino in Lundby. Although, as far as I gather, it is hardly a place worthy of such an extravagant name. It is more like a bar where there is some gambling going on. However, the claim that this is in violation with Norwegian law does not take into account the Sami reparation act which give Sami people wide powers to regulate this kind of activities on their own land. The casino is fully owned and regulated by the Sami people, and as such completely legal."

"And the report that casino tokens are circulating as money, surely that is in violation of the recent amendment to the constitution making only Norwegian Kroners legal tender in Norway."
"But those tokens are not money," the foreign minister retorted with a big smile. "They are tokens. They have no value or use outside the asylum centre. Do you really think that anyone will accept a casino token outside of that village, far away from the casino? Of course not! The tokens are no more money than what similar tokens would be inside a closed club. They can be used inside the club, but have no value outside of it, so they are clearly not money. Only Norwegian Kroners are money in Norway."

And by this the interviewer had exhausted her questions related to Lundby and its constitutionality. She continued with a few questions regarding the centre and the claim that it was violating human rights. But here too, the foreign minister had no problem defending his position. And in the end, the whole interview seemed to Bjorn to be more like an orchestrated promotion of the foreign ministers policies than a truly critical inquiry.

Bjorn turned off the TV, impressed and a little surprised by what he had just seen. He had not expected such an open talk on Libya, and even less so on Lundby. But now that it had been aired, Bjorn got a strong feeling that the foreign minister was on the offensive, anticipating things to come, and positioning himself as best he could for some imminent storm. "He is a sly fox," Bjorn thought to himself. "This interview was no doubt carefully planned, putting him one step ahead of the rest. By answering questions before they were fully formulated by the opposition, he had effectively silenced most of his critics by making it very hard for them to come with a different interpretation of things."

The mention of more boots on the ground in Libya had left Bjorn a little worried, though. It was absolutely not a place he would like to be sent, and even the remote possibility of being sent there gave him the shivers. He had after all signed onto his three year contract with the army with the checkpoint along the Neiden to Lundby road specifically in mind, and he was at the interview lead to believe that this was indeed the only position he would ever be expected to fill. But the contract he had signed was deliberately vague on the exact scope of his duties, so he could possibly, at least in theory, be sent to Libya against his own wishes.

And with this worry lingering uncomfortably in the back of his mind, he set his alarm for the next morning, hoping that the spectre of Libya would not interfere too much with his sleep.

49

"Ante sure knows how to throw a party," Bjorn thought to himself as he entered the kitchen where most of his colleagues had already sat down to eat. Only Thomas and Espen were still over by the stove heaping up generous amounts of steak, baked potatoes and vegetables for themselves. There was no shortage of whine either, but John and Espen were both having water, either for personal reasons, or in sympathy with the official rules banning any kind of alcohol consumption from Norwegian military bases. But Bjorn saw no reason to be any more prudent than Frank or Ante, and poured himself a big glass of red wine to go with the food.

The atmosphere was positively festive which made Bjorn almost embarrassed to think that he had suddenly felt so uncomfortable in the living room less than two hours earlier. "This is not a bad place at all, is it?" Bjorn thought to himself. "And they are definitely a friendly and polite bunch." And to encourage himself to be more positive in his view of things, he concluded his short lecture for himself. "This is far better than I had imagined," He thought. "So why not be a little more grateful over this unexpected bit of good fortune?"

Almost immediately after sitting down, Bjorn was bombarded by questions from his colleagues which served to underscore his deliberately positive view of his colleagues. They were all curious to hear what he had to say about Lundby, and genuinely interested in all he had to say. They were especially curious to hear about Ane's factory, which none of them had visited before. But Ante was also very curious to hear about the open air market, and everybody thought the replacement of perfectly good pavement with a Portuguese style cobbled stone alternative excessively extravagant, especially in light of the poor living conditions that most of the inhabitants were suffering under.

At one point, they all descended into a discussion on the environmental aspect of the fish processing plant, sparked by Bjorn's description of how all the waste was simply spewed directly and untreated into the water underneath the plant. They all agreed that this could not possibly be legal. But with the alternative being to send everything to China with no guarantee that the environment would be treated any better over there, they could not agree on the factory´s net effect on the global environment. The local environment would surely come under strain from Ane's careless waste treatment, but would things really be any better if the exact same was done in China?

This in turn brought up the idea of a global government. A government with global powers on environmental issues, but they all agreed that such a solution sounded too utopian, and that it had to be up to local governments all over the world to make sure that people like Ane could not go around polluting the environment without any kind of cost or consequence.

Having settled on a conclusion of sorts as far as the fish processing plant was concerned, the talk turned towards the planned outing on Friday night, with Ante raving about Nora's place for which he clearly had great expectations. And Frank was all enthusiastic about the casino, eagerly describing the place as he remembered it from an earlier visit.

Bjorn gathered from the talking that all of the men, except John, had been down in the village on one or more occasion. John, it seemed, was fearful of the village, and the enthusiastic raves by his colleagues made him only less eager to ever visit the place, which made Bjorn think that the young man might be fearful of a lot more than just the village. John, it seemed, was not only fearful of the village, he was fearful of himself.

46

Frank got up from his easy chair, and followed Geir over to the doorway on Geir's way out. Then, sitting down with Espen and John over at the table with the deck of cards ready for their bridge playing session, he asked his colleagues if they had seen the news about Lundby. When they said they hadn't, Frank turned briefly to Bjorn to have him confirm that Lundby had actually been mentioned by name on TV.

"Sure," Bjorn said, still sitting in the sofa with the Gazette in his hand. "But its hardly the first time. It's not like it is a big secret that there is going to be a single asylum seeker centre up here."
"Well, yes and no," Frank retorted. "Compared to the war in Libya, and even the never ending mess in Syria, we're hardly being mentioned."
Bjorn shook his head thoughtfully. "It's not like there is a war going on up here. What is there really to say?"
"So, what did they say on the news," Espen asked, turning to Frank and ignoring Bjorn's rhetorical question.

Frank gave his interpretation of what he had seen, and since it was factually correct, Bjorn did not bother to interfere in the conversation. Instead, he turned his attention once again to his newspaper, only paying scant attention to what his colleagues were saying. From the little he heard, he gathered that both Frank and John were convinced that the Lundby experiment would eventually turn violent, and while Frank sounded rather exited about such an outcome, John sounded fearful. Espen on the other hand could not quite see a violent uprising coming out of such an isolated place. "They would be massacred on their way to Neiden," he said calmly and sensibly. "And if they tried to escape by boat, they would be sunk long before they managed to reach Kirkenes, or any other place for that matter."

"Or they would simply succumb to the cold and starvation," Bjorn thought to himself. "No one will ever successfully escape the village. Certainly not through violent means." And then his thoughts went briefly to the kid from Senegal, and the hopeless situation he and his father had gotten themselves into. "They are not going to get asylum in Norway, and there is no way they will ever get enough money to return to Senegal," he thought. "They are stuck, plain and simple. Imagine, coming from sunny Senegal and then get stuck up here."

Bjorn looked out of the window where he could see no let up in the low hanging clouds drifting in from the Barents Sea. Then, focusing again on his newspaper, he finished the last couple of paragraphs of the article on the bowling alley before leafing idly through two pages of advertisements.

There was no big and immediately recognizable difference in the ads in this copy of the Gazette compared to the previous one. The casino and Pingo were both generously represented, and the casino did not hide the fact that just about anything goes. Gambling and light entertainment was of course the main focus of the ad, but prostitution, and even recreational drugs were hinted at as being available for those seeking such vices. However, the casino ad was put together in such a way that it did not say straight out that this was available. Only a closer look at the ad's collage of images gave the hint of this.

However, smaller, more to the point offerings of sex for money, listed directly under the casino ad added to the general feeling of anything goes. And to Bjorn's surprise, there were even an ad making no secret of their business being recreational drugs. The ad was not very big, and Bjorn might have overlooked it in the previous copy of the Gazette, but the message was unmistakable. "The Sky is Not the Limit," it said. "Get your recreational drugs at David's Pharmacy." A small map indicated that the pharmacy was located next to the church, on the street running parallel to the village square.

There were also all sorts of other small ads in the paper, such as rooms for rent, houses for sale, and various taxi and delivery services, but none of this came as any big surprise to Bjorn who had seen first hand the hustle and bustle in and around the village square. But an ad shamelessly promoting recreational drugs was something Bjorn had never seen before.