Now that Ante had described the rock behind the church as Jesus' two fingers pointing to the heavens, Bjorn could not free himself from seeing it again as they passed the church on the way back to the car.
"He's quite a character, that Frederico, isn't he?" Bjorn commented.
"Yeah," Ante replied idly.
"That whole Golden Rule thing... It's a nice thought, don't you think?"
Ante did not answer.
"You know," Bjorn continued. "I think I'll try that citizen thing one day. I mean... its not like anything bad will happen if I do, right?"
"No, of course not. But it's a silly idea."
"You think so? Why? You think the Golden Rule is a silly idea?"
"No, no... the Golden Rule is a cute idea."
"Cute?"
"Yeah. Quaint... Nice... I like it. But it's silly to pretend we're actually following it."
"We're not?"
Ante looked at Bjorn with a skeptical frown.
"You're a border guard. How is that compatible with the golden rule?"
"But I'm not hurting anyone," Bjorn protested.
"Sure... But the whole point of your job is to impose certain rules on people."
"Well... yeah."
"Against their will."
"Yeah... but... It's our country, they have no right to go there if we don't allow it."
"No? Why not?"
"Because it is our country."
"But what if someone in Neiden or Kirkenes wants to invite someone from Lundby over to work for them, or even just visit. Would you let them?"
"No... but that's a silly example. No one is inviting anyone over from Lundby."
"And why is that, you think?"
"Well... they don't know each other for starters."
"Because they can't, right?"
"Yeah?"
"Because people like you and me are keeping them segregated."
"Well..."
"It's a kind of apartheid, isn't it? That's what we're involved in."
Bjorn shook his head in mild disbelief.
"You're clearly talking too much with Thomas."
"Yeah," Ante admitted with a sheepish smile. "But I think he has a point, though."
"Thomas?"
"Yeah... I think he's right. We're actually the bad guys."
"He said that?"
"Yeah."
"So what is he doing at the checkpoint? If he believes that, why is he still working for us? I mean... have you told Frank about this?"
"No, of course not."
Bjorn was shocked. The idea that they had a rebel in their ranks, someone who openly despised the system, was worrying.
"He's selling his soul for a decent salary, he says," Ante continued.
"He really is a grumpy old man, isn't he?"
"Yeah, I guess you're right."
Having reached the base of the hill, the two men headed directly for the knoll with the parked cars.
"Well, anyway," Bjorn continued. "I'm declaring myself a citizen right now. I'm hereby a citizen of the Fifth Empire."
"And who exactly are you saying this to?"
"To the world."
"But you know... The world doesn't care. No one out here cares one bit about what you say. It's not what you say, but what you do that defines you in the end. And the moment you go out to that glass box tomorrow you're no longer a citizen, no matter what you say."
"No?"
"No. That's why it's such a silly idea for you to declare yourself a citizen, because you'll only be a citizen when it doesn't really matter, and the moment it actually makes a difference you're back to being... well... a border guard."
"But I'll be nice to my colleagues," Bjorn protested, putting on a humorous grin to soften his protest.
"Sure... as if you weren't a nice guy already."
Bjorn nodded, content with Ante's flattery, and fully prepared to drop the topic.
"You know, you can't fake this," Ante continued, concluding his own thoughts on the subject. "Because it is a promise only to yourself, not to the world. It´s not like you have to convince anyone else that you're a true citizen. There's no bureaucrat you have to apply to."
"It's not a typical application for a citizenship, is it?" Bjorn agreed.
"No. And what's the point in being a citizen if you have to call it off every time you go to work?"
"Well... If I wasn't such a nice guy," Bjorn said with a cheerful smile. "Then it might make sense."
"Yeah. But the idea must be to be a nice guy all the time, and to everybody, not only to your colleagues."
The men reached Ante's car where they stopped and took a quick look a the village square before entering the vehicle.
"It's a nice thought, though," Bjorn concluded.
"Sure. But we're not a part of it. And it's silly to think otherwise."
Showing posts with label roads. Show all posts
Showing posts with label roads. Show all posts
Thursday, November 20, 2014
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
152
"What was that all about?" Bjorn asked Ante immediately after leaving the pharmacy.
"What?"
"The heroin thing."
"Well, what do you think? I mean... heroin... And I could buy it just like that."
"Yeah?"
"Hey! Wouldn't that be cool?" Ante asked, making a sweeping gesture with his hands. "Have a bottle of heroin available, just in case."
"You were seriously considering buying it, weren't you?"
"Yeah, I was. Just, you know, to have it."
Bjorn shook his head.
"And take it with you up to the checkpoint?" Bjorn continued.
"Yeah, of course."
"That would have been kind of illegal, wouldn't it?"
"Yep, it would. Just like your cannabis oil," Ante retorted with a big smile.
Bjorn looked at Ante, suddenly realizing the obvious. He had just bought himself a bottle of contraband, and would have to smuggle it into his room on returning to the checkpoint.
"Gosh, I didn't think of that."
"You didn't did you?" Ante said, still smiling from ear to ear. "That David guy really convinced you, didn't he."
"But he said this is better, better than the synthetic alternative, that is."
"But even that would have been illegal," Ante continued. "I'm sure the alternative is a prescription drug, and you haven't been to a doctor, have you?"
"No, but..."
"But what?"
Bjorn had to think for a moment. He felt very confident that he had been well advised, and that the medicine he was carrying would at its worst be harmless, and at its best be quite effective. Yet, Ante was right. He was carrying contraband, and was technically speaking breaking Norwegian law.
"You're not going to tell anyone, are you?" Bjorn asked.
"No, of course not. But I have to say I find this whole thing amusing."
"You do?"
"Yeah. Here we are. Two representatives of the law, preparing to smuggle contraband into the checkpoint. It says quite a lot, doesn't it?"
"Like what?"
Ante looked over at the vicarage where a small line was forming with some truly miserable looking people.
"You didn't think of it being illegal when you bought it, did you?" Ante asked.
"No, I didn't," Bjorn confessed.
"And why was that, you think?"
"Well, David came across as pretty serious, didn't he?"
"Yeah?"
Bjorn didn't know what more to say, and being distracted by the sight of people in front of the vicarage, he stopped and changed the subject completely.
"They are lining up for soup, aren't they?" Bjorn asked.
"Looks like it, doesn't it," Ante confirmed with a nod.
"But they are not letting them in, are they?" Bjorn continued.
Then, before Ante could vent his opinion, the door of the vicarage opened, and out came Elisabeth and Aung, each with a small tray with Styrofoam cups, which they proceeded to hand out to the people who had gathered outside.
"Looks like they are keeping them at an arm's length," Ante commented.
"That's kind of condescending, isn't it?"
"It is," Ante agreed. "But to let them in... Would you?"
"Sure, why not? It's a big house. I mean... if they are serious about charity, shouldn't they?"
"And risk getting stuck with these people?"
"Well..."
Bjorn had to admit to himself that the sad looking group hardly was the kind of people he would have eagerly welcomed into his home. But a charity should operate differently, he felt, and was about to formulate this idea when Ante broke it off by pointing out that Bjorn was doing precisely nothing for the people over by the vicarage, and should for that reason be a little careful about criticizing the well doers.
"But..." Bjorn protested, still unable to articulate his objection.
"But what?"
"It's not the way we do it, is it? Like in the rest of Norway."
"It isn't?"
"No. I was unemployed for more than a year, and I never had to stand in any line."
"Ah... But what about those who can't even find their way to the unemployment office? You know... the really down and out people."
"The bums?"
"Yeah?"
"Well... I don't know."
"You never bothered to find out, did you?"
"Ah... no."
"But my sister who lives in Oslo works every now and again at a soup kitchen. And it's quite overwhelming at times, she says. And lately it's been getting much worse."
"Really?"
"Yep."
"And?"
"She says you just can't get too involved in these people, because they will drag you down. They really will. It's just too much. So you just have to put up a distance, a polite one for sure, but nevertheless a distance. And that's exactly what they are doing over there. It's the only way to run a charity. You have to keep a distance. You can't get involved in every little tragedy out there."
Ante started walking again.
"But if you do it right," Ante continued, getting Bjorn along with him. "You can keep it going for ever. And it can be very rewarding. Especially if you manage to do more than just feed them, but lift them out. Help them get a job. Get them back on their feet. That's what charity is all about in the end."
"Except for those who can never get a job, like cripples and retards," Bjorn commented.
"Yeah, but that's different. Those people over there are neither cripples nor retards. They may be depressed or hooked on drugs or whatnot. But they are not completely incapable of doing anything useful."
Bjorn still thought the whole thing condescending, almost to the point of being cruel. But he knew, despite his objections, that Ante was right. Things were no different in Oslo. And anyone crazy enough to open their home unconditionally to the needy would quickly find themselves completely drained both physically and emotionally.
"Unlimited generosity is a silly utopian idea," Ante commented, as if he had listened in on Bjorn's private thoughts. "It will quickly drain the life blood from anyone attempting it. And in the end, everyone will be worse off. The charity will be dead, and the recipients will have nowhere to go."
"What?"
"The heroin thing."
"Well, what do you think? I mean... heroin... And I could buy it just like that."
"Yeah?"
"Hey! Wouldn't that be cool?" Ante asked, making a sweeping gesture with his hands. "Have a bottle of heroin available, just in case."
"You were seriously considering buying it, weren't you?"
"Yeah, I was. Just, you know, to have it."
Bjorn shook his head.
"And take it with you up to the checkpoint?" Bjorn continued.
"Yeah, of course."
"That would have been kind of illegal, wouldn't it?"
"Yep, it would. Just like your cannabis oil," Ante retorted with a big smile.
Bjorn looked at Ante, suddenly realizing the obvious. He had just bought himself a bottle of contraband, and would have to smuggle it into his room on returning to the checkpoint.
"Gosh, I didn't think of that."
"You didn't did you?" Ante said, still smiling from ear to ear. "That David guy really convinced you, didn't he."
"But he said this is better, better than the synthetic alternative, that is."
"But even that would have been illegal," Ante continued. "I'm sure the alternative is a prescription drug, and you haven't been to a doctor, have you?"
"No, but..."
"But what?"
Bjorn had to think for a moment. He felt very confident that he had been well advised, and that the medicine he was carrying would at its worst be harmless, and at its best be quite effective. Yet, Ante was right. He was carrying contraband, and was technically speaking breaking Norwegian law.
"You're not going to tell anyone, are you?" Bjorn asked.
"No, of course not. But I have to say I find this whole thing amusing."
"You do?"
"Yeah. Here we are. Two representatives of the law, preparing to smuggle contraband into the checkpoint. It says quite a lot, doesn't it?"
"Like what?"
Ante looked over at the vicarage where a small line was forming with some truly miserable looking people.
"You didn't think of it being illegal when you bought it, did you?" Ante asked.
"No, I didn't," Bjorn confessed.
"And why was that, you think?"
"Well, David came across as pretty serious, didn't he?"
"Yeah?"
Bjorn didn't know what more to say, and being distracted by the sight of people in front of the vicarage, he stopped and changed the subject completely.
"They are lining up for soup, aren't they?" Bjorn asked.
"Looks like it, doesn't it," Ante confirmed with a nod.
"But they are not letting them in, are they?" Bjorn continued.
Then, before Ante could vent his opinion, the door of the vicarage opened, and out came Elisabeth and Aung, each with a small tray with Styrofoam cups, which they proceeded to hand out to the people who had gathered outside.
"Looks like they are keeping them at an arm's length," Ante commented.
"That's kind of condescending, isn't it?"
"It is," Ante agreed. "But to let them in... Would you?"
"Sure, why not? It's a big house. I mean... if they are serious about charity, shouldn't they?"
"And risk getting stuck with these people?"
"Well..."
Bjorn had to admit to himself that the sad looking group hardly was the kind of people he would have eagerly welcomed into his home. But a charity should operate differently, he felt, and was about to formulate this idea when Ante broke it off by pointing out that Bjorn was doing precisely nothing for the people over by the vicarage, and should for that reason be a little careful about criticizing the well doers.
"But..." Bjorn protested, still unable to articulate his objection.
"But what?"
"It's not the way we do it, is it? Like in the rest of Norway."
"It isn't?"
"No. I was unemployed for more than a year, and I never had to stand in any line."
"Ah... But what about those who can't even find their way to the unemployment office? You know... the really down and out people."
"The bums?"
"Yeah?"
"Well... I don't know."
"You never bothered to find out, did you?"
"Ah... no."
"But my sister who lives in Oslo works every now and again at a soup kitchen. And it's quite overwhelming at times, she says. And lately it's been getting much worse."
"Really?"
"Yep."
"And?"
"She says you just can't get too involved in these people, because they will drag you down. They really will. It's just too much. So you just have to put up a distance, a polite one for sure, but nevertheless a distance. And that's exactly what they are doing over there. It's the only way to run a charity. You have to keep a distance. You can't get involved in every little tragedy out there."
Ante started walking again.
"But if you do it right," Ante continued, getting Bjorn along with him. "You can keep it going for ever. And it can be very rewarding. Especially if you manage to do more than just feed them, but lift them out. Help them get a job. Get them back on their feet. That's what charity is all about in the end."
"Except for those who can never get a job, like cripples and retards," Bjorn commented.
"Yeah, but that's different. Those people over there are neither cripples nor retards. They may be depressed or hooked on drugs or whatnot. But they are not completely incapable of doing anything useful."
Bjorn still thought the whole thing condescending, almost to the point of being cruel. But he knew, despite his objections, that Ante was right. Things were no different in Oslo. And anyone crazy enough to open their home unconditionally to the needy would quickly find themselves completely drained both physically and emotionally.
"Unlimited generosity is a silly utopian idea," Ante commented, as if he had listened in on Bjorn's private thoughts. "It will quickly drain the life blood from anyone attempting it. And in the end, everyone will be worse off. The charity will be dead, and the recipients will have nowhere to go."
Wednesday, November 5, 2014
142
"So, it looks like this Gus guy is a friend of Pedro," Bjorn commented, noticing a Lance Security logo at the bottom of one of the posters in front of Gus' store. "Proud to be associated with Lance Security and Rogue Justice," it said in a banner next to it.
"That's a sinister organization if I ever saw one," Bjorn continued, pointing to the banner. "Rogue Justice, I mean."
"Yeah?" Ante asked. "And what is it?"
"They are hired guns, that's what they are."
"A little like us in other words," Ante commented flippantly.
"Well, not exactly. We don't kill for money."
"Really?"
"No! What is it with you?"
"I mean, if we get orders from Oslo to arrest or kill Jan, for instance, we're not going to do it?"
"Well... But that's different. And it's not going to happen. Is it?"
"I sure hope not. I'd hate to get on the wrong side of him and his thugs."
"Me too."
Having seen enough of Gus' posters, Bjorn turned to the street, looking in both direction from the corner where they were standing. He could see the odd car moving passed the intersection down by the main road. But the road along the crest of the hill was quite deserted. There were a few parked cars here and there, but no one out in the street.
"He even has a shooting range," Ante commented.
"Who?" Bjorn asked.
"Gus."
"Really? Where?"
"Over by the airport, apparently."
"And how do you know?"
"Well, it said on that poster you pointed to. Didn't you read it?"
Bjorn turned to have another look at the poster which had appeared to him as a pure propaganda piece for selling military grade weapons. And now at second glance he saw it immediately. Gus did not only sell guns and security equipment. He provided training too, and the poster made this quite clear.
"Funny how I didn't get that right away," Bjorn commented.
"You're a terrible detective, that's for sure," Ante replied.
"You think so?"
"Yeah, I do," Ante said with a smile. "But lets have a pizza. I'm hungry."
The men crossed the street and walked in the direction of the church.
"So, who is this Gus anyway?" Bjorn asked. "Sounds like an American with a name like that."
"I think he is. He sounds like it, and he looks like an ex-marine. You know, with a crew cut and everything."
"Really? And why is he here? He's not an asylum seeker, surely."
"No. I'm pretty sure he isn't."
"He's part of this whole Mafia thing, isn't he?" Bjorn suggested.
"Mafia?"
"Well, how else would you describe the things going on here?"
Ante didn't reply right away.
"I kind of like this, though," Ante replied.
"You do?"
"Yeah. I don't see anything wrong going on."
"You don't? But that guy is selling weapons over there. Don't you find that a tiny bit creepy? And look! Isn't that David's drug store?"
Bjorn pointed across the street, a little up from where they were walking.
"The sky is not the limit! Isn't that what it says on that board over there?" Bjorn continued.
"Yeah, yeah, it does."
"Isn't that a little odd?"
"Well... It's not like that guy is forcing me to buy his drugs."
"But he's obviously selling drugs, isn't he?"
"Yeah, but he's a pharmacist. What do you expect."
"I'd expect him to sell proper drugs. You know, medicine. Not crap."
"Okay, okay! So this place is in the hands of the Mafia. So what?"
"So what?" Bjorn asked perplexed.
"Yeah? So what? As long as no one is harmed, what do I care?"
"Boy! You really have spent too much time with Thomas."
"Yeah, I guess I have," Ante said with a smile. "But anyway, here's Peppe's Pizza. Let's have a bite!"
"That's a sinister organization if I ever saw one," Bjorn continued, pointing to the banner. "Rogue Justice, I mean."
"Yeah?" Ante asked. "And what is it?"
"They are hired guns, that's what they are."
"A little like us in other words," Ante commented flippantly.
"Well, not exactly. We don't kill for money."
"Really?"
"No! What is it with you?"
"I mean, if we get orders from Oslo to arrest or kill Jan, for instance, we're not going to do it?"
"Well... But that's different. And it's not going to happen. Is it?"
"I sure hope not. I'd hate to get on the wrong side of him and his thugs."
"Me too."
Having seen enough of Gus' posters, Bjorn turned to the street, looking in both direction from the corner where they were standing. He could see the odd car moving passed the intersection down by the main road. But the road along the crest of the hill was quite deserted. There were a few parked cars here and there, but no one out in the street.
"He even has a shooting range," Ante commented.
"Who?" Bjorn asked.
"Gus."
"Really? Where?"
"Over by the airport, apparently."
"And how do you know?"
"Well, it said on that poster you pointed to. Didn't you read it?"
Bjorn turned to have another look at the poster which had appeared to him as a pure propaganda piece for selling military grade weapons. And now at second glance he saw it immediately. Gus did not only sell guns and security equipment. He provided training too, and the poster made this quite clear.
"Funny how I didn't get that right away," Bjorn commented.
"You're a terrible detective, that's for sure," Ante replied.
"You think so?"
"Yeah, I do," Ante said with a smile. "But lets have a pizza. I'm hungry."
The men crossed the street and walked in the direction of the church.
"So, who is this Gus anyway?" Bjorn asked. "Sounds like an American with a name like that."
"I think he is. He sounds like it, and he looks like an ex-marine. You know, with a crew cut and everything."
"Really? And why is he here? He's not an asylum seeker, surely."
"No. I'm pretty sure he isn't."
"He's part of this whole Mafia thing, isn't he?" Bjorn suggested.
"Mafia?"
"Well, how else would you describe the things going on here?"
Ante didn't reply right away.
"I kind of like this, though," Ante replied.
"You do?"
"Yeah. I don't see anything wrong going on."
"You don't? But that guy is selling weapons over there. Don't you find that a tiny bit creepy? And look! Isn't that David's drug store?"
Bjorn pointed across the street, a little up from where they were walking.
"The sky is not the limit! Isn't that what it says on that board over there?" Bjorn continued.
"Yeah, yeah, it does."
"Isn't that a little odd?"
"Well... It's not like that guy is forcing me to buy his drugs."
"But he's obviously selling drugs, isn't he?"
"Yeah, but he's a pharmacist. What do you expect."
"I'd expect him to sell proper drugs. You know, medicine. Not crap."
"Okay, okay! So this place is in the hands of the Mafia. So what?"
"So what?" Bjorn asked perplexed.
"Yeah? So what? As long as no one is harmed, what do I care?"
"Boy! You really have spent too much time with Thomas."
"Yeah, I guess I have," Ante said with a smile. "But anyway, here's Peppe's Pizza. Let's have a bite!"
Tuesday, November 4, 2014
141
"There it is!" Ante exclaimed on seeing the roof of his grandparent's home appearing behind a small hill. "You see that hill, with the barbed wire and fences and stuff? Well, that is all part of my grandparents' back yard. It's turned into a kind of a show case for Gus's defense installations."
"So he's not just selling guns?" Bjorn asked.
"No. Anything defense related, he's into it."
"Really? You know Gus, then?"
"Yeah. I met him a few weeks back when I was in town with Thomas. We went up here to have a look at the store. And so we got to meet him. He seems like a nice guy."
"But all that barbed wire and stuff does not look too inviting, does it."
"Well, that's why he has it out in his back yard, tucked behind that hill, I guess."
"Yeah, I didn't see any of that when we drove by in Igor's car."
"No. It's all pretty toned down, seen from the street side."
Getting closer to Gus' property, the various exhibits could be seen in more detail. There were several different examples of fences, there were surveillance cameras, and rolls of barbed wire put out here and there. And it was clearly all for show.
Little foot paths, laid out with plenty of gravel, connected the back yard to the dirt path that the two men were following, clearly inviting them to walk in between the installations, almost like an open air museum.
"You want to have a look?" Ante asked as they came across the first of the foot paths leading into Gus' property.
"Sure! Why not?" Bjorn answered. "It's almost like a war museum, isn't it?"
"Yeah, it is, isn't it?"
"Private Property," a sign read, with "Trespassers will be Shot" written in small letters underneath. And was it not for the fact that the sign was placed on the back of a fence, so as to indicate that the threat applied to those venturing out of Gus' property, rather than into it, Bjorn would have hesitated to follow the foot paths further. But as it were, it all seemed quite harmless, despite of its aggressive nature. It also helped that the exhibits were clearly marked, and separated, so as to underscore the fact that the items on display were all for sale and only serving as examples.
"So you think this guy put up the fence around Ane's factory?" Bjorn asked idly.
"He probably did," Ante answered. "Who else would have done it?"
"Good point."
The men strolled around the hill with the fences and barbed wire, reaching the side of the little house that had once belonged to Ante's grand parents.
"Looks like Gus is away," Ante commented on seeing the windows of the house, all behind closed metal shutters.
"Those shutters are also part of what this guy sells, you think?" Bjorn asked.
"Probably is," Ante said with a nod. "He's basically the security installation guy. It's probably not a bad business to be in. Not in a place like this, anyway."
"Well, look at what we have here," Bjorn exclaimed on following one of the foot paths over to the front of the house. "It's the exact same armillary sphere that Frederico has in front of his church."
"It is, isn't it?" Ante agreed. "You see, they are all over the place."
"Yeah, you're right. It's a little occult and spooky, don't you think?"
"Kind of, I guess. But it doesn't bother me."
And it did not bother Bjorn either. Not there and then, anyway. However, some sort of massive propaganda was going on in the village, and although harmless at the moment, he could not quite rid himself of the thought that this could all turn pretty ugly at some point.
"And here we have the guns," Ante said, pointing towards several large posters put up along the street. "They are all to scale, and with the prices displayed under each item. Come check it out!"
Bjorn followed Ante to the posters which were all facing the street.
"So this is how Gus shows off his wares?" Bjorn commented as he turned to the front of the posters.
"Yeah, the house is too far removed from the street to have a very effective store front, so he put up these posters instead."
"That's a pretty smart move."
"It is, isn't it? People can window shop here along the street, and then go in an get the gun they want."
"Or at least have an idea what they might like, before going in to talk to Gus."
"Exactly."
"But Gus isn't here, is he?"
"Nope. Here are the opening hours. He's closed on Sundays."
"Closed and away, by the look of it."
"So he's not just selling guns?" Bjorn asked.
"No. Anything defense related, he's into it."
"Really? You know Gus, then?"
"Yeah. I met him a few weeks back when I was in town with Thomas. We went up here to have a look at the store. And so we got to meet him. He seems like a nice guy."
"But all that barbed wire and stuff does not look too inviting, does it."
"Well, that's why he has it out in his back yard, tucked behind that hill, I guess."
"Yeah, I didn't see any of that when we drove by in Igor's car."
"No. It's all pretty toned down, seen from the street side."
Getting closer to Gus' property, the various exhibits could be seen in more detail. There were several different examples of fences, there were surveillance cameras, and rolls of barbed wire put out here and there. And it was clearly all for show.
Little foot paths, laid out with plenty of gravel, connected the back yard to the dirt path that the two men were following, clearly inviting them to walk in between the installations, almost like an open air museum.
"You want to have a look?" Ante asked as they came across the first of the foot paths leading into Gus' property.
"Sure! Why not?" Bjorn answered. "It's almost like a war museum, isn't it?"
"Yeah, it is, isn't it?"
"Private Property," a sign read, with "Trespassers will be Shot" written in small letters underneath. And was it not for the fact that the sign was placed on the back of a fence, so as to indicate that the threat applied to those venturing out of Gus' property, rather than into it, Bjorn would have hesitated to follow the foot paths further. But as it were, it all seemed quite harmless, despite of its aggressive nature. It also helped that the exhibits were clearly marked, and separated, so as to underscore the fact that the items on display were all for sale and only serving as examples.
"So you think this guy put up the fence around Ane's factory?" Bjorn asked idly.
"He probably did," Ante answered. "Who else would have done it?"
"Good point."
The men strolled around the hill with the fences and barbed wire, reaching the side of the little house that had once belonged to Ante's grand parents.
"Looks like Gus is away," Ante commented on seeing the windows of the house, all behind closed metal shutters.
"Those shutters are also part of what this guy sells, you think?" Bjorn asked.
"Probably is," Ante said with a nod. "He's basically the security installation guy. It's probably not a bad business to be in. Not in a place like this, anyway."
"Well, look at what we have here," Bjorn exclaimed on following one of the foot paths over to the front of the house. "It's the exact same armillary sphere that Frederico has in front of his church."
"It is, isn't it?" Ante agreed. "You see, they are all over the place."
"Yeah, you're right. It's a little occult and spooky, don't you think?"
"Kind of, I guess. But it doesn't bother me."
And it did not bother Bjorn either. Not there and then, anyway. However, some sort of massive propaganda was going on in the village, and although harmless at the moment, he could not quite rid himself of the thought that this could all turn pretty ugly at some point.
"And here we have the guns," Ante said, pointing towards several large posters put up along the street. "They are all to scale, and with the prices displayed under each item. Come check it out!"
Bjorn followed Ante to the posters which were all facing the street.
"So this is how Gus shows off his wares?" Bjorn commented as he turned to the front of the posters.
"Yeah, the house is too far removed from the street to have a very effective store front, so he put up these posters instead."
"That's a pretty smart move."
"It is, isn't it? People can window shop here along the street, and then go in an get the gun they want."
"Or at least have an idea what they might like, before going in to talk to Gus."
"Exactly."
"But Gus isn't here, is he?"
"Nope. Here are the opening hours. He's closed on Sundays."
"Closed and away, by the look of it."
Monday, November 3, 2014
140
The path lead the two men to the crest of the ridge some distance to the south east of the village. And from there, they could see the village, pretty much in its entirety to the left, while still having a grand view of the fjord, harbor and airport to their right. The path, which had been so narrow that the two men had to walk one after the other with Bjorn following Ante, became once again wide enough for them to walk side by side.
"You know, I was worried about you there for a moment," Ante said, breaking the silence that had grown between the two men.
"When?" Bjorn asked, not immediately understanding what Ante was talking about.
"When you were alone with Einar in the servants' quarters."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"So that was why you popped in to see me?"
"Yeah. He is one of those kids, you know."
"One of those kids?"
"Yeah. The ones in the news. Just two weeks ago, this girl stabbed a woman to death in Asker, remember?"
"And you thought Einar would do the same to me?"
"Well, I didn't want to take any chances."
"That's awfully generous of you," Bjorn answered with a lighthearted smile.
Bjorn felt happy and confident walking on the top of the ridge, and thought the idea of Einar actually hurting him, quite silly.
"So what did Georgio tell you that made you so worried?" Bjorn asked.
"Well, he told us that Einar was a cop killer, and a little suspicious of people in uniform."
"I see. I guess that would have made me a little worried too. If it was you alone with him, that is."
"Thanks."
"And why would Georgio put it that way?" Bjorn asked. "I mean, wasn't that a little mean to make you worried like that."
"Georgio is no fan of uniforms either, I guess. He keeps poking fun of us for being one of them."
"And we are, aren't we? In their eyes, I mean."
"We're the bad guys," Bjorn commented with an ironic smile. "Yet they know that we aren't."
"And so they invite us into their little world to try to convert us, you think?" Ante continued. "To show us that they are the good guys, and that we can become one of them if we please."
Bjorn nodded thoughtfully.
"You think they are right about that, though? Us being the bad guys I mean." Bjorn asked.
"Well, we're not actively doing any harm," Ante replied. "And Georgio can come and go as he pleases, so he has no reason to complain."
"He's angry about the way things went in Venice, I guess. He might be projecting his anger onto us."
"What you mean?"
"Well, he told me Friday night that the Romans clubbed down the Venetians for wanting to break free of Italy."
"Really? When did that happen?"
"Quite recently, I believe."
"I can't remember reading about that anywhere."
"No. I don't think anyone took the referendum seriously, if it even happened. Except Georgio and his friends, that is. And... well... they are Fifth Empire nut cases all of them, aren't they?"
"You know, I was worried about you there for a moment," Ante said, breaking the silence that had grown between the two men.
"When?" Bjorn asked, not immediately understanding what Ante was talking about.
"When you were alone with Einar in the servants' quarters."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"So that was why you popped in to see me?"
"Yeah. He is one of those kids, you know."
"One of those kids?"
"Yeah. The ones in the news. Just two weeks ago, this girl stabbed a woman to death in Asker, remember?"
"And you thought Einar would do the same to me?"
"Well, I didn't want to take any chances."
"That's awfully generous of you," Bjorn answered with a lighthearted smile.
Bjorn felt happy and confident walking on the top of the ridge, and thought the idea of Einar actually hurting him, quite silly.
"So what did Georgio tell you that made you so worried?" Bjorn asked.
"Well, he told us that Einar was a cop killer, and a little suspicious of people in uniform."
"I see. I guess that would have made me a little worried too. If it was you alone with him, that is."
"Thanks."
"And why would Georgio put it that way?" Bjorn asked. "I mean, wasn't that a little mean to make you worried like that."
"Georgio is no fan of uniforms either, I guess. He keeps poking fun of us for being one of them."
"And we are, aren't we? In their eyes, I mean."
"We're the bad guys," Bjorn commented with an ironic smile. "Yet they know that we aren't."
"And so they invite us into their little world to try to convert us, you think?" Ante continued. "To show us that they are the good guys, and that we can become one of them if we please."
Bjorn nodded thoughtfully.
"You think they are right about that, though? Us being the bad guys I mean." Bjorn asked.
"Well, we're not actively doing any harm," Ante replied. "And Georgio can come and go as he pleases, so he has no reason to complain."
"He's angry about the way things went in Venice, I guess. He might be projecting his anger onto us."
"What you mean?"
"Well, he told me Friday night that the Romans clubbed down the Venetians for wanting to break free of Italy."
"Really? When did that happen?"
"Quite recently, I believe."
"I can't remember reading about that anywhere."
"No. I don't think anyone took the referendum seriously, if it even happened. Except Georgio and his friends, that is. And... well... they are Fifth Empire nut cases all of them, aren't they?"
Friday, October 31, 2014
139
The steepest part of the walk up to the ridge of the hill was over and done with right at the start of their walk, and the rest was pretty much flat all the way, with an occasional incline here and there.
The rock shielding the church to the north east could be seen in the distance, but from where they were walking nothing could be seen of the village itself. And once the apartment building disappeared out of sight behind them, the port and the control tower of the airport in the distance to the east of them were the only reminders of the civilization that they were a part of.
The walk was invigorating, and Bjorn took great pleasure in feeling the rays of the sun hit him on his back.
"It's not a bad place, is it?" Bjorn asked emphatically.
"No. Not at all," Ante agreed. "I used to go for walks here with my grandparents as a kid, you know."
"Good memories, huh?"
"Yeah. Summer up here can be pretty special."
"So, where did they live?" Bjorn asked, mildly curious.
"I'll show you. We actually drove past it on the way here."
"Really?"
"Yeah. It is now occupied by this Gus guy. He has turned the living room into a store front for his guns."
"The gun shop used to be your grandparents' home?"
"Yeah."
"And your grandparents sold their house to him?"
"No. My grandmother died a few years back. And we sold it to Jan."
"And he has sold it on to Gus?"
"Yeah, I guess so. Or he is renting it out to him."
Bjorn looked over at Ante to see if he was displaying any sense of regret, but could not decipher his expression.
"So, how does that make you feel?" Bjorn inquired. "Could have been cool to have that house now, with the village coming back to life and all."
"Yeah. But we didn't know that back then. Back then, nobody lived here except during the summer. It was like a summer house, and was hardly used at all. This place was pretty much a ghost town back then, and Jan was the only one interested in buying the property."
"You think he knew about this project even back then?" Bjorn wondered.
Ante did not answer right away.
"It's hard to say," Ante said thoughtfully. "But I don't think so."
"Why not?"
"I don't think this project was planned like years in advance."
"You don't? Why not?"
"Because... Well... It sprang out of a random constellation of circumstances."
"Huh?"
"No one was planning this thing back then. What made this happen was more like an accident. It was all about the port to start with. Then they opened the iron mine, and then there was the idea of this asylum center."
"And what's random about that."
"Well... If it was planned, wouldn't there have been other offers for the house than just Jan? Wouldn't other people be interested in buying up all this cheap land too?"
"Not if it was planned by Jan."
"Single-handedly?"
"Sure, why not?"
"Well, that's just nonsense. The whole project is a collaboration between Pedro, Mons and the foreign minister. Jan was just a lucky bystander."
"Yet, he seems awfully chummy with Pedro."
"Okay, so maybe Jan was in on it too. But they weren't planning this like years in advance. How could they?"
"So, why do you think Jan wanted to buy your grandparents' place, then, if there were no plans to do anything with the village?"
Ante was again silent for a while, figuring things out for himself.
"Because," Ante answered while still thinking. "The village always had the potential to become something. Jan was betting that something would happen, something good. And right now, it seems like his bets are about to pay off. But that does not mean that he knew exactly what would happen. All sorts of things could have happened. But with a port and an airport and even an abandoned mine and factory in the area, a revival has never been totally out of the question. And so he placed his bets accordingly. Maybe he had some vague plans relating to his casino. But even that would not have been more than a vague plan since the law allowing him to open it was not even proposed back then. And this is much bigger than his casino anyway. This is a huge thing happening here, and I seriously doubt he had it all planned out when he bought my grandparents' house."
The rock shielding the church to the north east could be seen in the distance, but from where they were walking nothing could be seen of the village itself. And once the apartment building disappeared out of sight behind them, the port and the control tower of the airport in the distance to the east of them were the only reminders of the civilization that they were a part of.
The walk was invigorating, and Bjorn took great pleasure in feeling the rays of the sun hit him on his back.
"It's not a bad place, is it?" Bjorn asked emphatically.
"No. Not at all," Ante agreed. "I used to go for walks here with my grandparents as a kid, you know."
"Good memories, huh?"
"Yeah. Summer up here can be pretty special."
"So, where did they live?" Bjorn asked, mildly curious.
"I'll show you. We actually drove past it on the way here."
"Really?"
"Yeah. It is now occupied by this Gus guy. He has turned the living room into a store front for his guns."
"The gun shop used to be your grandparents' home?"
"Yeah."
"And your grandparents sold their house to him?"
"No. My grandmother died a few years back. And we sold it to Jan."
"And he has sold it on to Gus?"
"Yeah, I guess so. Or he is renting it out to him."
Bjorn looked over at Ante to see if he was displaying any sense of regret, but could not decipher his expression.
"So, how does that make you feel?" Bjorn inquired. "Could have been cool to have that house now, with the village coming back to life and all."
"Yeah. But we didn't know that back then. Back then, nobody lived here except during the summer. It was like a summer house, and was hardly used at all. This place was pretty much a ghost town back then, and Jan was the only one interested in buying the property."
"You think he knew about this project even back then?" Bjorn wondered.
Ante did not answer right away.
"It's hard to say," Ante said thoughtfully. "But I don't think so."
"Why not?"
"I don't think this project was planned like years in advance."
"You don't? Why not?"
"Because... Well... It sprang out of a random constellation of circumstances."
"Huh?"
"No one was planning this thing back then. What made this happen was more like an accident. It was all about the port to start with. Then they opened the iron mine, and then there was the idea of this asylum center."
"And what's random about that."
"Well... If it was planned, wouldn't there have been other offers for the house than just Jan? Wouldn't other people be interested in buying up all this cheap land too?"
"Not if it was planned by Jan."
"Single-handedly?"
"Sure, why not?"
"Well, that's just nonsense. The whole project is a collaboration between Pedro, Mons and the foreign minister. Jan was just a lucky bystander."
"Yet, he seems awfully chummy with Pedro."
"Okay, so maybe Jan was in on it too. But they weren't planning this like years in advance. How could they?"
"So, why do you think Jan wanted to buy your grandparents' place, then, if there were no plans to do anything with the village?"
Ante was again silent for a while, figuring things out for himself.
"Because," Ante answered while still thinking. "The village always had the potential to become something. Jan was betting that something would happen, something good. And right now, it seems like his bets are about to pay off. But that does not mean that he knew exactly what would happen. All sorts of things could have happened. But with a port and an airport and even an abandoned mine and factory in the area, a revival has never been totally out of the question. And so he placed his bets accordingly. Maybe he had some vague plans relating to his casino. But even that would not have been more than a vague plan since the law allowing him to open it was not even proposed back then. And this is much bigger than his casino anyway. This is a huge thing happening here, and I seriously doubt he had it all planned out when he bought my grandparents' house."
Thursday, October 30, 2014
138
Bjorn looked around, stunned by Pedro's claim to have a better knowledge of his near future than himself. How could that possibly be? he wondered. And Pedro's insinuation that his behavior was somehow being monitored was right out bizarre. But knowing smiles and looks exchanged between Jan's daughters seemed to support Pedro's claim. The girls were in on it somehow, and obviously amused by Pedro's shameless forwardness.
"But what do you think about the apartment?" Pedro asked, changing the topic to the more mundane.
"Oh, it's beautiful," Olga replied enthusiastically.
"So you like it?" Pedro asked, looking for confirmation from the rest.
"Yeah, yeah," everybody agreed, nodding politely.
"It's great, isn't it," Pedro said with a big smile. "I can hardly wait to move in."
"It's a palace," Igor commented.
"It is. It's a palace!"
Pedro looked around in the kitchen, and then over at Georgio.
"Well, I guess it's time for you to show your guests out," Pedro commented. "But you'll return, right?"
"Yeah. In fact... Einar can let them out... I can stay here if you like."
"Yes, I would. You're not too busy are you?"
"No... Not really. Einar and I are just here to finish a few things."
Pedro made a sweeping pass of Georgio's guests with his head as if to firmly lock their faces into his memory. Then he bid them farewell with a friendly smile, telling them that he had much enjoyed getting to know them, even if their presence was somewhat unexpected.
"Well, that was unexpected," Ante commented to Bjorn as they followed Einar to the back exit.
"And awkward," Bjorn added.
"Yeah, but he was cool about it though, wasn't he?"
"Is this the first time you've met Pedro?" Bjorn asked Einar as he ushered the group out of the servants' hallway and into the stairwell.
"He's been here a few times before," Einar replied. "But this is the first time I've talked to him face to face."
"And what do you think?"
"Well, he was super cool about this, wasn't he... And Jan almost offered me a job. Isn't that cool?"
"Impressive guy, don't you think?" Olga continued.
"And not as mean looking as Jan," Einar agreed.
"You think Jan looks mean?" Ante asked.
"He can look kind of scary, don't you think?" Bjorn added, agreeing with Einar. "And his daughters... They got those beady eyes too."
"Beady eyes?"
"Yeah. Don't you think so?"
Ante did not answer. Then, as they reached the ground floor, he could not help asking everybody if they too got the impression that Pedro was ready to hire him as a chef.
"Yeah, he did, didn't he?" Einar replied, stopping up by the back door. "Will you take his offer?"
"Now, now," Bjorn protested. "None of you guys got any job offers up there. They were just being polite."
"You think so?" Einar asked.
"Well... I guess you could take them up on their words one day. But they were just thinking out loud."
"Okay," Einar commented. "But anyway... Are we all going down to the garage, or are you two going back by foot?"
Bjorn and Ante looked at each other. They were both ready for a walk in the fine weather, and asked Einar to let them out. A gush of fresh arctic air entered the stairwell the moment Einar opened the door, and it felt great to step into the crisp coolness of it all.
Bjorn and Ante waved goodbye to Einar and the two Russians, and started walking up to the path at the back of the building, leading diagonally up towards the crest of the hill.
The part of the path closest to the apartment was widened into a dirt road, and a large excavator parked at the end of the road, gave the two men the impression that there were plans to widen the entire path, all the way up to the top of the ridge.
Bjorn pulled out a cigarette, and lighted it, taking in the full view of the building site, as it appeared from the back of the apartment building.
"So, what did you make of Pedro's prediction about the days to come?" Bjorn asked.
"About Tuesday and Wednesday, you mean?"
"Yeah."
"You know," Ante said, hesitating while thinking. "Maybe Frank is sharing info with these guys... I mean... Frank's probably corrupted, isn't he?"
"You're right. It must be Frank. Who else could it be?"
"If Pedro wasn't bluffing, that is."
"Oh no, I don't think he was."
"But what do you think about the apartment?" Pedro asked, changing the topic to the more mundane.
"Oh, it's beautiful," Olga replied enthusiastically.
"So you like it?" Pedro asked, looking for confirmation from the rest.
"Yeah, yeah," everybody agreed, nodding politely.
"It's great, isn't it," Pedro said with a big smile. "I can hardly wait to move in."
"It's a palace," Igor commented.
"It is. It's a palace!"
Pedro looked around in the kitchen, and then over at Georgio.
"Well, I guess it's time for you to show your guests out," Pedro commented. "But you'll return, right?"
"Yeah. In fact... Einar can let them out... I can stay here if you like."
"Yes, I would. You're not too busy are you?"
"No... Not really. Einar and I are just here to finish a few things."
Pedro made a sweeping pass of Georgio's guests with his head as if to firmly lock their faces into his memory. Then he bid them farewell with a friendly smile, telling them that he had much enjoyed getting to know them, even if their presence was somewhat unexpected.
"Well, that was unexpected," Ante commented to Bjorn as they followed Einar to the back exit.
"And awkward," Bjorn added.
"Yeah, but he was cool about it though, wasn't he?"
"Is this the first time you've met Pedro?" Bjorn asked Einar as he ushered the group out of the servants' hallway and into the stairwell.
"He's been here a few times before," Einar replied. "But this is the first time I've talked to him face to face."
"And what do you think?"
"Well, he was super cool about this, wasn't he... And Jan almost offered me a job. Isn't that cool?"
"Impressive guy, don't you think?" Olga continued.
"And not as mean looking as Jan," Einar agreed.
"You think Jan looks mean?" Ante asked.
"He can look kind of scary, don't you think?" Bjorn added, agreeing with Einar. "And his daughters... They got those beady eyes too."
"Beady eyes?"
"Yeah. Don't you think so?"
Ante did not answer. Then, as they reached the ground floor, he could not help asking everybody if they too got the impression that Pedro was ready to hire him as a chef.
"Yeah, he did, didn't he?" Einar replied, stopping up by the back door. "Will you take his offer?"
"Now, now," Bjorn protested. "None of you guys got any job offers up there. They were just being polite."
"You think so?" Einar asked.
"Well... I guess you could take them up on their words one day. But they were just thinking out loud."
"Okay," Einar commented. "But anyway... Are we all going down to the garage, or are you two going back by foot?"
Bjorn and Ante looked at each other. They were both ready for a walk in the fine weather, and asked Einar to let them out. A gush of fresh arctic air entered the stairwell the moment Einar opened the door, and it felt great to step into the crisp coolness of it all.
Bjorn and Ante waved goodbye to Einar and the two Russians, and started walking up to the path at the back of the building, leading diagonally up towards the crest of the hill.
The part of the path closest to the apartment was widened into a dirt road, and a large excavator parked at the end of the road, gave the two men the impression that there were plans to widen the entire path, all the way up to the top of the ridge.
Bjorn pulled out a cigarette, and lighted it, taking in the full view of the building site, as it appeared from the back of the apartment building.
"So, what did you make of Pedro's prediction about the days to come?" Bjorn asked.
"About Tuesday and Wednesday, you mean?"
"Yeah."
"You know," Ante said, hesitating while thinking. "Maybe Frank is sharing info with these guys... I mean... Frank's probably corrupted, isn't he?"
"You're right. It must be Frank. Who else could it be?"
"If Pedro wasn't bluffing, that is."
"Oh no, I don't think he was."
Monday, April 28, 2014
52
Bjorn was deep asleep when his alarm went off. He had been dreaming, but of nothing unpleasant, and he was in no mood for introspection, so he let the lingering dream evaporate without any effort to hold on to it.
Bjorn had set his alarm to go off at the time when no one was using the bathroom, just after Ante had been there, and before Thomas and Espen would appear. Assuming that everyone were as sett in their routines as they appeared to be, he figured he should be able to have the place for himself by targeting the fifteen minutes interval between Ante and the two other men.
As it turned out, Bjorn was correct in his calculations. He went to the bathroom the moment he heard Ante close the door to his room, and ended up having the bathroom to himself for the whole duration of his shower and morning routine. Not until he was back in his room did he hear Thomas and Espen walk past on their way to the showers.
Bjorn smiled to himself on his way down to breakfast. His main discomfort as far as the check point was concerned was the lack of privacy, especially during his morning routine, and by having found an opening for himself where he could have the bathroom for himself, he felt relieved and happy. "If this pattern keeps, my stay here will be almost as pleasant as a resort vacation," Bjorn thought as he skipped down the stairs.
The weather looked promising, with the sun shining through the south facing windows of the kitchen. Ante was in his usual good mood, and Bjorn felt a relaxed eagerness to enjoy the day to its fullest. Chatting casually with Ante, Bjorn ate his bacon and egg breakfast, not paying much attention to the time. But when Espen appeared, shortly followed by Thomas, he knew that it was time to go down to the glass box to relieve John from his duty.
John was as eager to leave his post as always, and disappeared up to the barracks as soon as he had handed the keys over to Bjorn. However, Bjorn felt positively happy about being once again all to himself. He put his thermos of coffee down next to the one he had brought with him yesterday, but forgotten to take in, before sitting down in the office chair to take in the panoramic view.
Pretty soon, he felt an urge to have a cigarette, so he stepped out on the sunny side of the office to light one for himself. The sun, bright and unobscured over the mountains to the north, was warm and invigorating. He closed his eyes for a minute while facing the sun straight on. In the background he could hear the light trickle of melting snow. Life was slowly returning to the arctic wilderness, one drop of melting snow at a time.
After a few puffs of his cigarette, Bjorn became suddenly aware of a white van coming down the windy road from Neiden, and he thought to himself, slightly bemused, that this was in fact the first car he had seen on that road apart from the truck with the snow plow. He followed the car with interest as it came closer, until it came to a full stop in front of the barrier.
Bjorn tossed the cigarette on the ground, and stepped on it while the driver rolled down his window.
"Good morning," Bjorn said with a smile. "Do you have your passport with you?"
"Yep, here it is," the young man replied waving it in his hand.
"Okay," Bjorn replied without bothering to inspect it, reaching instead into the office to push the green button next to the door.
The barrier rose, letting the young man into the colony without further delay. Bjorn followed the van with his eyes until it disappeared behind a barren knoll where the snow had already receded from the top, pushed back by a mix of wind and sun. Then, back in the office, he caught another glimpse of the van as it took a left turn at the intersection with the road joining the village to the port.
Bjorn had set his alarm to go off at the time when no one was using the bathroom, just after Ante had been there, and before Thomas and Espen would appear. Assuming that everyone were as sett in their routines as they appeared to be, he figured he should be able to have the place for himself by targeting the fifteen minutes interval between Ante and the two other men.
As it turned out, Bjorn was correct in his calculations. He went to the bathroom the moment he heard Ante close the door to his room, and ended up having the bathroom to himself for the whole duration of his shower and morning routine. Not until he was back in his room did he hear Thomas and Espen walk past on their way to the showers.
Bjorn smiled to himself on his way down to breakfast. His main discomfort as far as the check point was concerned was the lack of privacy, especially during his morning routine, and by having found an opening for himself where he could have the bathroom for himself, he felt relieved and happy. "If this pattern keeps, my stay here will be almost as pleasant as a resort vacation," Bjorn thought as he skipped down the stairs.
The weather looked promising, with the sun shining through the south facing windows of the kitchen. Ante was in his usual good mood, and Bjorn felt a relaxed eagerness to enjoy the day to its fullest. Chatting casually with Ante, Bjorn ate his bacon and egg breakfast, not paying much attention to the time. But when Espen appeared, shortly followed by Thomas, he knew that it was time to go down to the glass box to relieve John from his duty.
John was as eager to leave his post as always, and disappeared up to the barracks as soon as he had handed the keys over to Bjorn. However, Bjorn felt positively happy about being once again all to himself. He put his thermos of coffee down next to the one he had brought with him yesterday, but forgotten to take in, before sitting down in the office chair to take in the panoramic view.
Pretty soon, he felt an urge to have a cigarette, so he stepped out on the sunny side of the office to light one for himself. The sun, bright and unobscured over the mountains to the north, was warm and invigorating. He closed his eyes for a minute while facing the sun straight on. In the background he could hear the light trickle of melting snow. Life was slowly returning to the arctic wilderness, one drop of melting snow at a time.
After a few puffs of his cigarette, Bjorn became suddenly aware of a white van coming down the windy road from Neiden, and he thought to himself, slightly bemused, that this was in fact the first car he had seen on that road apart from the truck with the snow plow. He followed the car with interest as it came closer, until it came to a full stop in front of the barrier.
Bjorn tossed the cigarette on the ground, and stepped on it while the driver rolled down his window.
"Good morning," Bjorn said with a smile. "Do you have your passport with you?"
"Yep, here it is," the young man replied waving it in his hand.
"Okay," Bjorn replied without bothering to inspect it, reaching instead into the office to push the green button next to the door.
The barrier rose, letting the young man into the colony without further delay. Bjorn followed the van with his eyes until it disappeared behind a barren knoll where the snow had already receded from the top, pushed back by a mix of wind and sun. Then, back in the office, he caught another glimpse of the van as it took a left turn at the intersection with the road joining the village to the port.
Monday, February 3, 2014
25
The two cranes that Bjorn had been observing from the check point were suddenly fully visible as the car reached the perimeter of the village, just a few minutes after passing the apartment building under construction at the other side of the low hill to the east of the village.
This was a much bigger construction site than the apartment building, and very far from being finished, at least as far as Bjorn could judge. Unlike the apartment building which had people working on it everywhere, only a handful of people could be seen, putting up scaffolding and preparing for concrete to be poured into huge moulds, all with a mesh of iron rods sticking out of them.
The impressive but quiet building site was located at the top of a long, moderately inclined street, leading all the way down to a square by the fjord. A few houses lined the street, but in a rather random fashion, with some houses drawn quite far back from the road, while others were practically next to it. The old village had clearly been constructed without much planning, and the only place with any indication of proper planning was the square which was lined with buildings neatly positioned around the open space in the middle.
The road circling the central square had sidewalks on both sides, and was as far as Bjorn could see, the only bit of road with a sidewalk. No such luxury had been afforded for any of the other roads, of which there were quite a number, all leading into the square.
A small low knoll of a hill, separating the square from the fjord served as a parking space, with several cars placed semi-randomly along its perimeter, and Geir drove the red sedan up next to a car already parked on this hill, adding to the pattern that had been established for the day.
The trip down from the check point had taken less than ten minutes, which left the two men with a bit of time to spare before going over to the fish processing plant. Geir suggested they walk up on top of the knoll as a short detour before going to the plant, and Bjorn was more than happy to comply, feeling an urge for a cigarette and eager to get a fuller view of the village.
The two low hills on either side of the village formed the valley in which the village was nestled, and protruding into the fjord, the same two hills formed a small bay, with the fish processing plant located on the eastern shore, and several houses located on the western shore.
Standing on the top of the knoll separating the town square from the innermost point of the bay, the layout of the village seemed less random than first impression had given cause to believe. The layout was simply following the natural lay of the land, and the wooden houses, painted in all sorts of bright colours, especially blue, red and yellow, were almost all located in spots that were both elevated and shielded at the same time.
A small church, located on top of a steep incline from the road joining the fish processing plant and the village square, perfectly illustrated this fondness for elevated yet shielded locations, located as it was on a rather commanding little hill, but shielded to the east and the north by a rock formation, dwarfing it while simultaneously protecting it from the hostility of arctic winds and weather.
There were quite a number of people out and about in the village considering that it could not possibly be housing more than a few hundred inhabitants and that it was anything but a pleasant summer day. Bjorn had noticed several people selling stuff from little stands in the village square, there had been a gang of people mending holes in the long, straight road leading up the valley from the square to the building site, and others were just walking about, seemingly with no purpose or business at all.
The mending of the road had struck Bjorn as extremely primitive and inefficient, as it was done with no help of any type of machinery, except for a big pan to heat the asphalt, which was poured into buckets as Geir and Bjorn had crawled past in their car on their way down to the square, careful not to hit any of the men. And the asphalt, once poured into the various potholes was made flat by men manually dragging a heavy roller across the soft, oily mess.
From the top of the knoll, Bjorn could see that the asphalt was simply broken up from the sidewalk in front of the casino, at the west side of the square, and taken in buckets up to the pan where it was heated and made into road repair. The process seemed totally nonsensical since the road repair clearly was at the expense of the sidewalk in front of the casino, but by the time Bjorn pointed out the strange spectacle to Geir it was time to go and inspect the fish processing plant.
"We can look at it later," Geir said as they wandered down the hill towards the plant. "I have a few things to buy for Ante while we are down here. Pingo is right across the square from the casino. Maybe it makes more sense once we take a closer look at what they are doing."
This was a much bigger construction site than the apartment building, and very far from being finished, at least as far as Bjorn could judge. Unlike the apartment building which had people working on it everywhere, only a handful of people could be seen, putting up scaffolding and preparing for concrete to be poured into huge moulds, all with a mesh of iron rods sticking out of them.
The impressive but quiet building site was located at the top of a long, moderately inclined street, leading all the way down to a square by the fjord. A few houses lined the street, but in a rather random fashion, with some houses drawn quite far back from the road, while others were practically next to it. The old village had clearly been constructed without much planning, and the only place with any indication of proper planning was the square which was lined with buildings neatly positioned around the open space in the middle.
The road circling the central square had sidewalks on both sides, and was as far as Bjorn could see, the only bit of road with a sidewalk. No such luxury had been afforded for any of the other roads, of which there were quite a number, all leading into the square.
A small low knoll of a hill, separating the square from the fjord served as a parking space, with several cars placed semi-randomly along its perimeter, and Geir drove the red sedan up next to a car already parked on this hill, adding to the pattern that had been established for the day.
The trip down from the check point had taken less than ten minutes, which left the two men with a bit of time to spare before going over to the fish processing plant. Geir suggested they walk up on top of the knoll as a short detour before going to the plant, and Bjorn was more than happy to comply, feeling an urge for a cigarette and eager to get a fuller view of the village.
The two low hills on either side of the village formed the valley in which the village was nestled, and protruding into the fjord, the same two hills formed a small bay, with the fish processing plant located on the eastern shore, and several houses located on the western shore.
Standing on the top of the knoll separating the town square from the innermost point of the bay, the layout of the village seemed less random than first impression had given cause to believe. The layout was simply following the natural lay of the land, and the wooden houses, painted in all sorts of bright colours, especially blue, red and yellow, were almost all located in spots that were both elevated and shielded at the same time.
A small church, located on top of a steep incline from the road joining the fish processing plant and the village square, perfectly illustrated this fondness for elevated yet shielded locations, located as it was on a rather commanding little hill, but shielded to the east and the north by a rock formation, dwarfing it while simultaneously protecting it from the hostility of arctic winds and weather.
There were quite a number of people out and about in the village considering that it could not possibly be housing more than a few hundred inhabitants and that it was anything but a pleasant summer day. Bjorn had noticed several people selling stuff from little stands in the village square, there had been a gang of people mending holes in the long, straight road leading up the valley from the square to the building site, and others were just walking about, seemingly with no purpose or business at all.
The mending of the road had struck Bjorn as extremely primitive and inefficient, as it was done with no help of any type of machinery, except for a big pan to heat the asphalt, which was poured into buckets as Geir and Bjorn had crawled past in their car on their way down to the square, careful not to hit any of the men. And the asphalt, once poured into the various potholes was made flat by men manually dragging a heavy roller across the soft, oily mess.
From the top of the knoll, Bjorn could see that the asphalt was simply broken up from the sidewalk in front of the casino, at the west side of the square, and taken in buckets up to the pan where it was heated and made into road repair. The process seemed totally nonsensical since the road repair clearly was at the expense of the sidewalk in front of the casino, but by the time Bjorn pointed out the strange spectacle to Geir it was time to go and inspect the fish processing plant.
"We can look at it later," Geir said as they wandered down the hill towards the plant. "I have a few things to buy for Ante while we are down here. Pingo is right across the square from the casino. Maybe it makes more sense once we take a closer look at what they are doing."
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
18
Bjorn put down the binoculars. Now that he had studied the building site more closely, he could make sense of the distant figures as they moved around with no instrument to help him. He did no longer need the binoculars to know who were the slaves and who were the masters. And pleased to have figured out the division of labour down at the building site, he poured himself another cup of coffee, which he drank leisurely while keeping an eye with the builders.
Refreshed by the coffee, Bjorn felt an urge for nicotine, so he got up and out of the glass cage to smoke a cigarette. The clouds and the wind from the day before had pretty much disappeared, and the sun was shining down on the melting snow by the road side. A faint trickle of moving water could be heard everywhere, and the air was full of freshness and a sense of expectation. It was almost a shame to light up a cigarette in all this freshness, but on the other hand, the contrast between the sharp taste of the smoke and the mild crispness of the spring air was quite invigorating too.
The arctic summer, short and fragile, was on its way, pushing the winter to its side. Standing next to the glass box, with the sun shining down on him, Bjorn could feel how the warmth of the sun lifted his spirit, as by magic. But a cloud was drifting in from the west and would soon come between him and the sun, and that would be the end of the summery sensation. Another few minutes of sun, and then it would be gone for at least half an hour, judging by the size of the cloud and the speed that it was moving.
Wanting to keep the optimistic feeling of summer, and not wait for the cloud to spoil it with its bitter reminder of how fragile the summer will be, even at its warmest, Bjorn decided to go back into the glass cage while the sun was still bright. But just as he was about to enter, he heard a distant clatter from the south, which he immediately recognized as the sound of a snow clearing truck pushing a heavy plow in front of it, and curious to see it, he turned away from the door, ignoring the sudden chill that came with the sun disappearing behind the cloud.
Bjorn caught a first glimpse of the truck as it appeared from behind a hill, up the valley to Neiden. But it was soon gone again, and for a while, even the clatter of the plow was gone. Then the clatter reappeared, followed by the truck, now heading straight down towards the check point. Bjorn liftet his hand to greet the trucker the moment he could see him through the windshield, and the trucker responded by honking his horn.
The truck made a wide turn on the parking lot up by the barracks without reducing the speed by much. The trucker waved to Bjorn as he did this. Then, honking his horn again, he headed back towards Neiden.
Refreshed by the coffee, Bjorn felt an urge for nicotine, so he got up and out of the glass cage to smoke a cigarette. The clouds and the wind from the day before had pretty much disappeared, and the sun was shining down on the melting snow by the road side. A faint trickle of moving water could be heard everywhere, and the air was full of freshness and a sense of expectation. It was almost a shame to light up a cigarette in all this freshness, but on the other hand, the contrast between the sharp taste of the smoke and the mild crispness of the spring air was quite invigorating too.
The arctic summer, short and fragile, was on its way, pushing the winter to its side. Standing next to the glass box, with the sun shining down on him, Bjorn could feel how the warmth of the sun lifted his spirit, as by magic. But a cloud was drifting in from the west and would soon come between him and the sun, and that would be the end of the summery sensation. Another few minutes of sun, and then it would be gone for at least half an hour, judging by the size of the cloud and the speed that it was moving.
Wanting to keep the optimistic feeling of summer, and not wait for the cloud to spoil it with its bitter reminder of how fragile the summer will be, even at its warmest, Bjorn decided to go back into the glass cage while the sun was still bright. But just as he was about to enter, he heard a distant clatter from the south, which he immediately recognized as the sound of a snow clearing truck pushing a heavy plow in front of it, and curious to see it, he turned away from the door, ignoring the sudden chill that came with the sun disappearing behind the cloud.
Bjorn caught a first glimpse of the truck as it appeared from behind a hill, up the valley to Neiden. But it was soon gone again, and for a while, even the clatter of the plow was gone. Then the clatter reappeared, followed by the truck, now heading straight down towards the check point. Bjorn liftet his hand to greet the trucker the moment he could see him through the windshield, and the trucker responded by honking his horn.
The truck made a wide turn on the parking lot up by the barracks without reducing the speed by much. The trucker waved to Bjorn as he did this. Then, honking his horn again, he headed back towards Neiden.
Monday, January 6, 2014
17
Bjorn sat down in the office chair in front of the control panel, put his thermos on a small ledge by the window in front of him, and felt immediately at ease as he gazed out at the panoramic view of the fjord, with snow capped alpine mountains rising up from the icy marsh land on the other side.
Lundby, partially hidden from view by two low hills shielding it from the weather on either side, looked positively idyllic with houses scattered in a seemingly random fashion on the barren rocks, between which a road could be seen, with the occasional car driving by. The pace of life in the village, which Bjorn derived solely from the cars coming and going, seemed neither stressful nor sedated. From the distance, everything looked both normal and peaceful.
The port, completely hidden from view by a hill to the east could nevertheless be detected due to the regular comings and goings of the ferry. And there was almost always a little rush of cars driving by, down by the fjord, every twenty minutes after a ferry arrival. People were coming and going, and the woman that Bjorn had briefly talked to on the ferry was probably not the only one doing business in the village. Some of the cars coming in from the port were fairly large trucks, clearly carrying goods of various kinds.
Having spent some time taking in the initial impression from the commanding view of the glass panelled office, Bjorn leant back in the chair with a mug of hot coffee in his hand, letting his eyes wander freely in search of things of interest. With the road to Neiden still blocked by snow, there was no chance of anyone coming up to the checkpoint, unless in an errand for the checkpoint itself, so there was literally nothing for Bjorn to do but to let his mind wander with his gaze.
The view both barren and motionless, made any motion draw immediate attention to itself, and two cranes, partially hidden by the near hill between the check point and Lundby, drew Bjorn´s attention every time they made an occasional turn, and so did cars coming and going on the bits of road visible from the check point, as did a mobile crane getting into place at a building site down by the fjord, at the near side of the hill obscuring the view of Lundby.
It soon became intensely sleep inducing to just sit and watch the view, and Bjorn realized he had to entertain his mind in order not to nod off with his wandering eyes and mind. He decided to scrutinize the building site down by the fjord, and lifted a pair of binoculars to his eyes to take a closer look. By the look of it, the building being erected was some sort of low apartment building, and the site was very busy with people, many of whom did not seem to have much else to do than to carry materials from one place to another. Others, presumably more skilled workers, were busy finishing the ground floor façade, while others were putting in place scaffolding higher up.
Everything seemed to be happening all at once, and looking through the large openings, still without doors or windows, people could be seen in the light of harsh incandescent lamps, tiding up and getting started on the interior. For every skilled worker, there seemed to be at least five people busy sweeping floors and carrying stuff around, and Bjorn got a strong feeling that what he was witnessing was nothing less than modern day slavery. The only thing missing was any sign of armed guards. And the slaves did not seem as discouraged as he would have expected. They did not work excessively hard. But they did not seem to drag their feet either.
Lundby, partially hidden from view by two low hills shielding it from the weather on either side, looked positively idyllic with houses scattered in a seemingly random fashion on the barren rocks, between which a road could be seen, with the occasional car driving by. The pace of life in the village, which Bjorn derived solely from the cars coming and going, seemed neither stressful nor sedated. From the distance, everything looked both normal and peaceful.
The port, completely hidden from view by a hill to the east could nevertheless be detected due to the regular comings and goings of the ferry. And there was almost always a little rush of cars driving by, down by the fjord, every twenty minutes after a ferry arrival. People were coming and going, and the woman that Bjorn had briefly talked to on the ferry was probably not the only one doing business in the village. Some of the cars coming in from the port were fairly large trucks, clearly carrying goods of various kinds.
Having spent some time taking in the initial impression from the commanding view of the glass panelled office, Bjorn leant back in the chair with a mug of hot coffee in his hand, letting his eyes wander freely in search of things of interest. With the road to Neiden still blocked by snow, there was no chance of anyone coming up to the checkpoint, unless in an errand for the checkpoint itself, so there was literally nothing for Bjorn to do but to let his mind wander with his gaze.
The view both barren and motionless, made any motion draw immediate attention to itself, and two cranes, partially hidden by the near hill between the check point and Lundby, drew Bjorn´s attention every time they made an occasional turn, and so did cars coming and going on the bits of road visible from the check point, as did a mobile crane getting into place at a building site down by the fjord, at the near side of the hill obscuring the view of Lundby.
It soon became intensely sleep inducing to just sit and watch the view, and Bjorn realized he had to entertain his mind in order not to nod off with his wandering eyes and mind. He decided to scrutinize the building site down by the fjord, and lifted a pair of binoculars to his eyes to take a closer look. By the look of it, the building being erected was some sort of low apartment building, and the site was very busy with people, many of whom did not seem to have much else to do than to carry materials from one place to another. Others, presumably more skilled workers, were busy finishing the ground floor façade, while others were putting in place scaffolding higher up.
Everything seemed to be happening all at once, and looking through the large openings, still without doors or windows, people could be seen in the light of harsh incandescent lamps, tiding up and getting started on the interior. For every skilled worker, there seemed to be at least five people busy sweeping floors and carrying stuff around, and Bjorn got a strong feeling that what he was witnessing was nothing less than modern day slavery. The only thing missing was any sign of armed guards. And the slaves did not seem as discouraged as he would have expected. They did not work excessively hard. But they did not seem to drag their feet either.
Thursday, November 28, 2013
8
It did not take long before the two men reached an abandoned air field with a surprisingly long runway, considering the modest size of the nearby village. And Bjørn remarked on this, also mentioning that he had seen the control tower from the ferry on the way into the port.
"It is a cold war relic," Ante explained. "The idea was to air lift soldiers and equipment into the area on short notice. This whole bay was to act like a fortress, impenetrable by the advancing red army. There are nuclear bunkers out there, remnants of a missile defence system, and all sorts of stuff."
"It was never properly opened," Ante continued. "All of Finnmark was unilaterally declared a demilitarized zone by the government to please the Russians, so this complex was never officially anything but a local air field. But it was closed down almost immediately after the fall of the Berlin wall, and it was completely abandoned when the village was de-inhabited after the iron mine closed a few years later."
"So it never saw much activity," Bjorn asked, intrigued by the strange site.
"Never. There were about twenty men here at the most, back in the sixties. The idea was to get troops and equipment up here super fast in the event of an attack, not to have stuff parked up here before hand. There was almost no interaction with the locals, though. I guess they were under strict orders not to mingle, so as not to give away any secrets. You see, the missile defence system was parked here all along, and it was fully operational. This was top secret of course. Very few knew of it before they started shipping the missiles out of here, and everyone could see what had been transported in at night over the decades, in big anonymous crates, so not to let anybody see what they were up to. The missiles were hidden in under ground silos. All part of a large system of bunkers."
Bjorn looked back at the empty expanse of tarmac, the tower, and a few barracks, as Ante approached a hill and a curve. The airfield disappeared out of view, and Bjorn turned back to look at the road ahead of them. When they reached the crest of the hill, they could see Lundby clearly in the distance. There was an intense orange glow from the setting sun illuminating the cloudy sky from behind the mountains to the west of the village.
Little wooden houses were scattered around on the side of a hill protruding out into the fjord, partly hidden from view by a nearer hill. Two cranes sticking up from behind the nearest hill bare witness of building activity, presumably in anticipation of the great influx of asylum seekers that would be moved to Lundby from other centres around Norway in the coming months.
More than ten thousand asylum seekers would have to either move to Lundby, or get out of the country by the end of the year. And this ultimatum had already had the effect of dramatically reducing the flow of asylum seekers to Norway, especially since all new arrivals were moved directly to Lundby. The expectation was therefore that less than half of all the asylum seekers currently in Norway would choose Lundby to deportation. But that would still mean an influx of several thousand people, so the building activity was still warranted.
Bjorn's thoughts drifted back to the woman on the ferry. He felt anxious on her behalf at the thought of the many desperate people who would soon be living in close proximity of her. He wondered if she fully realized what sort of danger she was setting herself up for. Moving into her grandparents' place at a time when the whole place was being turned into a modern day gulag was such an insane thing to do that he could not make any sense of it.
"It is a cold war relic," Ante explained. "The idea was to air lift soldiers and equipment into the area on short notice. This whole bay was to act like a fortress, impenetrable by the advancing red army. There are nuclear bunkers out there, remnants of a missile defence system, and all sorts of stuff."
"It was never properly opened," Ante continued. "All of Finnmark was unilaterally declared a demilitarized zone by the government to please the Russians, so this complex was never officially anything but a local air field. But it was closed down almost immediately after the fall of the Berlin wall, and it was completely abandoned when the village was de-inhabited after the iron mine closed a few years later."
"So it never saw much activity," Bjorn asked, intrigued by the strange site.
"Never. There were about twenty men here at the most, back in the sixties. The idea was to get troops and equipment up here super fast in the event of an attack, not to have stuff parked up here before hand. There was almost no interaction with the locals, though. I guess they were under strict orders not to mingle, so as not to give away any secrets. You see, the missile defence system was parked here all along, and it was fully operational. This was top secret of course. Very few knew of it before they started shipping the missiles out of here, and everyone could see what had been transported in at night over the decades, in big anonymous crates, so not to let anybody see what they were up to. The missiles were hidden in under ground silos. All part of a large system of bunkers."
Bjorn looked back at the empty expanse of tarmac, the tower, and a few barracks, as Ante approached a hill and a curve. The airfield disappeared out of view, and Bjorn turned back to look at the road ahead of them. When they reached the crest of the hill, they could see Lundby clearly in the distance. There was an intense orange glow from the setting sun illuminating the cloudy sky from behind the mountains to the west of the village.
Little wooden houses were scattered around on the side of a hill protruding out into the fjord, partly hidden from view by a nearer hill. Two cranes sticking up from behind the nearest hill bare witness of building activity, presumably in anticipation of the great influx of asylum seekers that would be moved to Lundby from other centres around Norway in the coming months.
More than ten thousand asylum seekers would have to either move to Lundby, or get out of the country by the end of the year. And this ultimatum had already had the effect of dramatically reducing the flow of asylum seekers to Norway, especially since all new arrivals were moved directly to Lundby. The expectation was therefore that less than half of all the asylum seekers currently in Norway would choose Lundby to deportation. But that would still mean an influx of several thousand people, so the building activity was still warranted.
Bjorn's thoughts drifted back to the woman on the ferry. He felt anxious on her behalf at the thought of the many desperate people who would soon be living in close proximity of her. He wondered if she fully realized what sort of danger she was setting herself up for. Moving into her grandparents' place at a time when the whole place was being turned into a modern day gulag was such an insane thing to do that he could not make any sense of it.
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
7
Not being very interested in football, Bjorn remained standing in the front of the office, behind the men clustering around the TV screen. He followed the game with muted interest, looking out of the window every now and again to look for signs of anyone coming to pick him up.
After a few minutes, he noticed a car in the distance, a red sedan charging along the road down by the fjord, coming in and out of view on its way towards the Port. The bright head lights made it easy to spot in the grey surroundings as it flashed its lights directly in Bjorn's direction every time it came out from a curve that had briefly hidden it from view.
As the car came closer, it remained in view for longer periods of time until it was no longer hidden at all, charging down the final stretch towards the port. The car disappeared briefly behind a large shed by the entrance to the port before coming back in view, making a wide curve towards the check point, completely ignoring the markings on the tarmac, separating parking areas from lanes of traffic, bus stops, and the like.
The driver was, by the look of it, deliberately trying to make an extravagant point of breaking all the rules as he increased his speed during the final hundred yards just to slam on the breaks and bring the car to a complete stop as it slid screeching sideways into place in front of the office.
"That must be Ante," Trond said without taking his eyes off the TV.
"That's my man?" Bjorn asked, putting down his mug of coffee.
"Yes," Trond replied, taking a quick look out of the window to make absolutely sure of the identity of the driver.
Bjorn took his back pack and left the office, not waiting for Ante to get in, and thanking the men for the coffee as he left. The car stood right across from the door of the office with the driver's seat facing it, and the driver rolled down the window to greet Bjorn as he stepped into the cold.
"So you are Ante?" Bjorn asked.
"And you must be Bjorn."
"Sure am," Bjorn replied.
"Then, hop in!"
Ante signalled to Bjorn that he should take the front seat before rolling up the window, quickly so as not to loose more heat than absolutely necessary. Getting into the car after tossing his back pack into the back seat, Bjorn sat down and strapped on his seat belt, anticipating correctly that the drive back to the Neiden check point would be at least as speedy as Ante's drive to the Port.
The road turned out to be in pretty bad shape, and Bjorn was tossed around in his seat as Ante ignored the smaller pot holes and swerved sharply around the bigger ones. But the need to focus on his driving to navigate the pot holes, did not prevent Ante from engaging Bjorn in small talk, pointing out things along the road as they passed them, and asking Bjorn about his trip and his first impressions of the arctic.
Ante talked in a thick local dialect that Bjorn could not help find amusing, since the man's extravagant driving and talkativeness had every mark of the typical stereotype portrayal of a North Norway inhabitant, flamboyant, foul mouthed and passionate. Dark haired and with subtle Asian features, Bjorn guessed the man to be Sami, and asked him politely if this was true.
"How did you guess?" Ante asked with a broad smile.
"Well..."
"Of course I am," Ante continued without waiting for an answer. "My family has been up here for generations."
"Really?"
"Rain deer herding and fishing, that's what we used to do up here before my grandfather gave it up and started working at the iron mine instead. And when that was closed down, and the fish processing plant folded too, that was the end of it."
"And now?"
"Well, most of my family has moved south. My parents are living on the dole in Kirkenes, and I'm the only one up here with a job."
After a few minutes, he noticed a car in the distance, a red sedan charging along the road down by the fjord, coming in and out of view on its way towards the Port. The bright head lights made it easy to spot in the grey surroundings as it flashed its lights directly in Bjorn's direction every time it came out from a curve that had briefly hidden it from view.
As the car came closer, it remained in view for longer periods of time until it was no longer hidden at all, charging down the final stretch towards the port. The car disappeared briefly behind a large shed by the entrance to the port before coming back in view, making a wide curve towards the check point, completely ignoring the markings on the tarmac, separating parking areas from lanes of traffic, bus stops, and the like.
The driver was, by the look of it, deliberately trying to make an extravagant point of breaking all the rules as he increased his speed during the final hundred yards just to slam on the breaks and bring the car to a complete stop as it slid screeching sideways into place in front of the office.
"That must be Ante," Trond said without taking his eyes off the TV.
"That's my man?" Bjorn asked, putting down his mug of coffee.
"Yes," Trond replied, taking a quick look out of the window to make absolutely sure of the identity of the driver.
Bjorn took his back pack and left the office, not waiting for Ante to get in, and thanking the men for the coffee as he left. The car stood right across from the door of the office with the driver's seat facing it, and the driver rolled down the window to greet Bjorn as he stepped into the cold.
"So you are Ante?" Bjorn asked.
"And you must be Bjorn."
"Sure am," Bjorn replied.
"Then, hop in!"
Ante signalled to Bjorn that he should take the front seat before rolling up the window, quickly so as not to loose more heat than absolutely necessary. Getting into the car after tossing his back pack into the back seat, Bjorn sat down and strapped on his seat belt, anticipating correctly that the drive back to the Neiden check point would be at least as speedy as Ante's drive to the Port.
The road turned out to be in pretty bad shape, and Bjorn was tossed around in his seat as Ante ignored the smaller pot holes and swerved sharply around the bigger ones. But the need to focus on his driving to navigate the pot holes, did not prevent Ante from engaging Bjorn in small talk, pointing out things along the road as they passed them, and asking Bjorn about his trip and his first impressions of the arctic.
Ante talked in a thick local dialect that Bjorn could not help find amusing, since the man's extravagant driving and talkativeness had every mark of the typical stereotype portrayal of a North Norway inhabitant, flamboyant, foul mouthed and passionate. Dark haired and with subtle Asian features, Bjorn guessed the man to be Sami, and asked him politely if this was true.
"How did you guess?" Ante asked with a broad smile.
"Well..."
"Of course I am," Ante continued without waiting for an answer. "My family has been up here for generations."
"Really?"
"Rain deer herding and fishing, that's what we used to do up here before my grandfather gave it up and started working at the iron mine instead. And when that was closed down, and the fish processing plant folded too, that was the end of it."
"And now?"
"Well, most of my family has moved south. My parents are living on the dole in Kirkenes, and I'm the only one up here with a job."
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