visit he had noticed that they served some simple food. He would take his paperback, then sit and read over a couple of beers. Until then he would take a walk and get a look at the village and the surrounding area. He’d be back in the cabin by ten o’clock at the latest, carry on reading, get checked in by the night round, and then go to bed.
And with that his first day as a stand-in patient would be over. It felt good to have his schedule worked out that far.
15
ON HER way up to the doctors’ floor, Gisela Obermann found herself in the same elevator as Karl Fischer. He stepped in from the lobby just after she had pressed the button and the doors had started to close. His linen suit was creased and he smelled slightly of sweat. She saw his reflection in the glass, and as the elevator rushed upward his reflection spoke to hers.
“Your contract’s due to expire soon, Gisela. I have to warn you that it won’t be renewed.”
“What have I done wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing. But to continue working here takes more than not making mistakes, as I’m sure you understand. This is a research clinic. You haven’t come up with any findings.”
“Not yet. But I’ve seen so many interesting things here.”
“And I’ve no doubt you will have use of that in your future activities. But your contract expires in October, and I can see no reason to extend it. There are hundreds of researchers who want to come and work here.”
“But Doctor Pierce has been here considerably longer than I have. What findings has he come up with? Has anyone come up with any firm results?” Gisela exclaimed in a voice that had suddenly become unpleasantly shrill.
The elevator had stopped and the doors slid open, but Karl Fischer was blocking her exit.
The strong features of his face were marked by deep furrows. Cropped gray hair stood up from his head like nails. Behind him she could make out the doors lining the staff corridor.
“It isn’t your concern to evaluate the others’ findings,” he said calmly. “And you lack the most important requirement for working here: vision.”
Fischer was still standing in the way of the doors, stopping them from closing.
“Have you spoken to Max since his brother was here?” he went on.
The elevator doors were jerking impatiently, but he ignored them.
“No, I haven’t had time. But I’ll call him in as soon as possible. I think his brother’s visit will have done him good. It will be interesting to hear what he has to say about it. Max is without any doubt an extremely interesting patient.”
“You think so? I don’t agree.”
Karl Fischer stepped aside so that Gisela could get out. As she passed him he said, “You smell of alcohol, Doctor Obermann.”
She turned round and saw the doors slide shut with Fischer still in the elevator. She remained where she was, frozen to the spot, listening to the noise as it rushed down through the clinic.
Doctor Fischer was right. She lacked vision. Both when it came to the patients and herself. All the other researchers had come to Himmelstal with theories, plans, and brilliant ideas lighting up their futures. As for her, she could see nothing ahead of her. She had simply run away from her own tattered life. That was the truth, although of course she had phrased it rather differently in her application. She had felt drawn by the alpine air, the isolation, the narrow valley that held its inhabitants like a womb.
At the beginning she had also felt stimulated by the sense of starting afresh at the clinic. The others’ enthusiasm had infected her like a virus.
But it wasn’t long before life here felt just as pointless as life outside. The sense of workplace camaraderie that she had been hoping for never materialized.
In their free time the researchers socialized energetically. There was a party almost every evening in one of the staff’s quarters. But when it came to work, each of them clung to his or her specialist area and guarded it
And with that his first day as a stand-in patient would be over. It felt good to have his schedule worked out that far.
15
ON HER way up to the doctors’ floor, Gisela Obermann found herself in the same elevator as Karl Fischer. He stepped in from the lobby just after she had pressed the button and the doors had started to close. His linen suit was creased and he smelled slightly of sweat. She saw his reflection in the glass, and as the elevator rushed upward his reflection spoke to hers.
“Your contract’s due to expire soon, Gisela. I have to warn you that it won’t be renewed.”
“What have I done wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing. But to continue working here takes more than not making mistakes, as I’m sure you understand. This is a research clinic. You haven’t come up with any findings.”
“Not yet. But I’ve seen so many interesting things here.”
“And I’ve no doubt you will have use of that in your future activities. But your contract expires in October, and I can see no reason to extend it. There are hundreds of researchers who want to come and work here.”
“But Doctor Pierce has been here considerably longer than I have. What findings has he come up with? Has anyone come up with any firm results?” Gisela exclaimed in a voice that had suddenly become unpleasantly shrill.
The elevator had stopped and the doors slid open, but Karl Fischer was blocking her exit.
The strong features of his face were marked by deep furrows. Cropped gray hair stood up from his head like nails. Behind him she could make out the doors lining the staff corridor.
“It isn’t your concern to evaluate the others’ findings,” he said calmly. “And you lack the most important requirement for working here: vision.”
Fischer was still standing in the way of the doors, stopping them from closing.
“Have you spoken to Max since his brother was here?” he went on.
The elevator doors were jerking impatiently, but he ignored them.
“No, I haven’t had time. But I’ll call him in as soon as possible. I think his brother’s visit will have done him good. It will be interesting to hear what he has to say about it. Max is without any doubt an extremely interesting patient.”
“You think so? I don’t agree.”
Karl Fischer stepped aside so that Gisela could get out. As she passed him he said, “You smell of alcohol, Doctor Obermann.”
She turned round and saw the doors slide shut with Fischer still in the elevator. She remained where she was, frozen to the spot, listening to the noise as it rushed down through the clinic.
Doctor Fischer was right. She lacked vision. Both when it came to the patients and herself. All the other researchers had come to Himmelstal with theories, plans, and brilliant ideas lighting up their futures. As for her, she could see nothing ahead of her. She had simply run away from her own tattered life. That was the truth, although of course she had phrased it rather differently in her application. She had felt drawn by the alpine air, the isolation, the narrow valley that held its inhabitants like a womb.
At the beginning she had also felt stimulated by the sense of starting afresh at the clinic. The others’ enthusiasm had infected her like a virus.
But it wasn’t long before life here felt just as pointless as life outside. The sense of workplace camaraderie that she had been hoping for never materialized.
In their free time the researchers socialized energetically. There was a party almost every evening in one of the staff’s quarters. But when it came to work, each of them clung to his or her specialist area and guarded it
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