Realm long, at least not many years?’ he began.
‘It’s nearly two now.’
I gave a sign to the waiter and Anton, who was his old self again already, brought a brandy. The coffee house was gradually coming back to normal. The old man continued:
‘Of course, it’s difficult to find your feet if you’ve been used to something different. Here we are all under the Spell . Whether we like it or not, there is an inevitable fate which works itself out through us. And we have to be grateful that it isn’t something worse. As things are, at least we can sometimes have a good laugh at the nonsense going on in the big wide world. But there are many–oh, how many!–who are not always willing to submit; new arrivals in particular try to kick against the pricks. Whenever that inner resistance against our immutable fate grows too strong, the Brainstorm comes and everyone suffers. Today was such a day.’
He was silent. A dreary, resigned smile flitted across his face. I was speechless. Here I was on the track of a mystery, perhaps the great mystery that had been disturbing me for so long. And now I told the old man what strange and unpleasant things had happened to me, even the dreadful secret of a few minutes ago which still had my heart in its grip. I left out nothing.
My companion heard me out with a thoughtful, sympathetic expression. He shook his head a little and leant over to me, ‘My dear young friend, do not rack your brains for nothing, never fight your inner voice. You are quite right, there are mysteries everywhere here, but they are inexplicable. It is people who are too inquisitive who tend to get their fingers burnt. Seek your consolation in work, Pearl is an excellent place to work. I used to feel the same as you. You are looking at a nature-lover, and I am sure you will believe me, when I tell you how much I suffered from the artificiality of this land. But with time one gets used to it. I have been living here for almost thirteen years, I have adapted to the conditions and have found much to interest me. One has to lower one’s sights, that’s all; even the smallest things can be a source of pleasure. I, for example, collect lice, dust-lice.’ His eyes lit up and he grew animated as he went on, with a mysterious smile on his face, ‘I am on the track of a new species. Yes, the Archive contains wonders that the hoi polloi have never even dreamt of. Room 69 is my hunting ground at the moment. His Excellency has graciously put it at my disposal, it contains all my hopes! But now I must be off.’
With those words he took an old green case out of his pocket, extracted a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles and put them on. Before he left he gave me an old-fashioned bow and introduced himself, ‘Professor Korntheuer, zoologist.’
I felt warmth towards him as I watched him leave. I liked everything about him: his eccentric attitude, his thick, snowy locks framing a likeable face still full of youthful enthusiasm, the fastidious cleanliness of his clothing, right down to his grey spats and galoshes.
But all the excitement of the day had taken its toll of me. My head thumped with a dull ache as I mounted the stairs to my apartment. It was just as I had expected. My wife was stretched out on the sofa, completely exhausted. She said nothing, and for my sake she tried to pull herself together. I maintained a tactful silence, for I was unwilling to tell a lie.
In bed, I tossed and turned restlessly. I kept imagining I could hear a rumbling noise and see a vacant, wide-open eye. My mind was almost completely taken up with what I had learnt from the Professor. So there was a Spell. And the Brainstorm? I pondered over the meaning of these words. I had certainly witnessed enough unusual things here. Only recently I had seen a few lads who were making a racket behind the house with rattles and drums. When I asked them what they were doing they told me, ‘We’re making background noise.’ Now I was beginning to find
‘It’s nearly two now.’
I gave a sign to the waiter and Anton, who was his old self again already, brought a brandy. The coffee house was gradually coming back to normal. The old man continued:
‘Of course, it’s difficult to find your feet if you’ve been used to something different. Here we are all under the Spell . Whether we like it or not, there is an inevitable fate which works itself out through us. And we have to be grateful that it isn’t something worse. As things are, at least we can sometimes have a good laugh at the nonsense going on in the big wide world. But there are many–oh, how many!–who are not always willing to submit; new arrivals in particular try to kick against the pricks. Whenever that inner resistance against our immutable fate grows too strong, the Brainstorm comes and everyone suffers. Today was such a day.’
He was silent. A dreary, resigned smile flitted across his face. I was speechless. Here I was on the track of a mystery, perhaps the great mystery that had been disturbing me for so long. And now I told the old man what strange and unpleasant things had happened to me, even the dreadful secret of a few minutes ago which still had my heart in its grip. I left out nothing.
My companion heard me out with a thoughtful, sympathetic expression. He shook his head a little and leant over to me, ‘My dear young friend, do not rack your brains for nothing, never fight your inner voice. You are quite right, there are mysteries everywhere here, but they are inexplicable. It is people who are too inquisitive who tend to get their fingers burnt. Seek your consolation in work, Pearl is an excellent place to work. I used to feel the same as you. You are looking at a nature-lover, and I am sure you will believe me, when I tell you how much I suffered from the artificiality of this land. But with time one gets used to it. I have been living here for almost thirteen years, I have adapted to the conditions and have found much to interest me. One has to lower one’s sights, that’s all; even the smallest things can be a source of pleasure. I, for example, collect lice, dust-lice.’ His eyes lit up and he grew animated as he went on, with a mysterious smile on his face, ‘I am on the track of a new species. Yes, the Archive contains wonders that the hoi polloi have never even dreamt of. Room 69 is my hunting ground at the moment. His Excellency has graciously put it at my disposal, it contains all my hopes! But now I must be off.’
With those words he took an old green case out of his pocket, extracted a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles and put them on. Before he left he gave me an old-fashioned bow and introduced himself, ‘Professor Korntheuer, zoologist.’
I felt warmth towards him as I watched him leave. I liked everything about him: his eccentric attitude, his thick, snowy locks framing a likeable face still full of youthful enthusiasm, the fastidious cleanliness of his clothing, right down to his grey spats and galoshes.
But all the excitement of the day had taken its toll of me. My head thumped with a dull ache as I mounted the stairs to my apartment. It was just as I had expected. My wife was stretched out on the sofa, completely exhausted. She said nothing, and for my sake she tried to pull herself together. I maintained a tactful silence, for I was unwilling to tell a lie.
In bed, I tossed and turned restlessly. I kept imagining I could hear a rumbling noise and see a vacant, wide-open eye. My mind was almost completely taken up with what I had learnt from the Professor. So there was a Spell. And the Brainstorm? I pondered over the meaning of these words. I had certainly witnessed enough unusual things here. Only recently I had seen a few lads who were making a racket behind the house with rattles and drums. When I asked them what they were doing they told me, ‘We’re making background noise.’ Now I was beginning to find
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