by H. G. Adler
“How nice, Arthur, that I can wish you the best at the same time! We must, of course, see each other again soon. You are now a made man, that is clear.”
“Shall I call you?”
“No, what are you thinking? Of course I will call you. Certainly. Tomorrow, for instance. It’s been terribly long since I’ve seen you, and I need to speak to you. I’ve wanted to discuss some archaeological-sociological problems with you for a while.”
I didn’t have a chance to answer, for in the same moment our cars were separated and were able to move again. All I could do was wave at Oswald, who whizzed by at full speed. Then we hit the car of a man whom I recognized as the head officer of the train police from back there. That was unpleasant for me, for I was afraid of some kind of provocation, some kind of case being made against me. Had he traveled here with Prenzel in order to collar me and take me away? I turned around, but my old professor didn’t appear to be anywhere around. Then I looked more closely at the Assessor of Sympathies and observed that I didn’t need to worry, a side glance at Kratzenstein also reassuring me that nothing bad would happen. The Assessor of Sympathies even seemed to fear that I would hold his awful behavior against him now. He appeared to me to be much changed from what he had been, almost apologizing abjectly for the run-in, though he said it was not him but Kratzenstein who had been the cause of it, adding without much apparent conviction that I had been right. About what? I asked. Your political sympathies, he responded. But before I could untangle the sense of the comment and its double meaning we were off again. We then made two laps without getting hit much or bothered, though eventually we hit the car of Frau Fixler, Kratzenstein’s secretary, for whom this abrupt meeting was so embarrassing that she blushed with shame. She swore that she had nothing to do with things not going so smoothly back in the days of the business between me and Herr Professor Kratzenstein. Although it was not something I would ever have requested, she promised in future to always send timely invitations to all the events of the International Society of Sociologists in letter format in a sealed envelope, not as just a worthless flyer, for she knew my address by heart. I tried to calm the excited lady, who with hands and feet was furiously trying to free her car from ours in order not to prevent our driving on.
But that was no longer necessary, for a loud chime announced the end of our pleasure ride. Indeed, the Professor asked me if I wanted another round, but I thanked him for his offer and said that I’d had enough. I also declined his suggestion that I give a brief presentation here on the race course, in front of our car, on the fundamental ideas of my sociology of oppressed people, just as it had been planned for me to do so years ago for the smaller working group of the institute.
“I need to recuperate, Herr Professor, and I’d prefer to sink inconspicuously into the crowd,” I said.
“You won’t have any luck with that, my friend. You stick out like a sore thumb.”
“Are you trying to insult me?”
“My dear friend, what are you saying? Me and insults? Those are too completely separate and unlinkable entities! Scholarship is, if nothing else, a humble form of altruism.”
I stood up and got out of the blue car, because Mrs. Mackintosh was already moving from customer to customer to collect money. That way, the Professor had to follow my wishes if he wanted to stay with me and not drive alone around the track. That was not what he intended, so he trotted along after me. Continually, people came up to me wanting to pass on their warm wishes, and often I was asked for my autograph. Suddenly I found myself in Peter’s arms, his presence really surprising me.
“I flew here special from New Zealand, Arthur. I just had to. You’ve certainly put down roots, which is great to see. How proud I am to have been the first to help you get on your feet after the war.”
“Are you also involved with sociology now?”
“Ah, sociology! I’m in advertising. The sociologists want to learn more about it from me. It wouldn’t hurt you to take a course in it as well.”
“It has to do,” the Professor added, “with wanting to engage this gentleman as a leader in our organization. People need advertising. Otherwise the economy would grind to a halt. Thus, my friend, one has to try to model it on the basic principles of advertising technology. To pay attention to the pulse of life, that’s what it is all about. This I have identified and use it to write personal testimonials to help sell the books of other scholars. That I find useful.”
“I know you do that, Herr Professor. And very stylishly at that!”
“Well, then, you know. When your book comes out, I’ll do it for you as well.”
“Will my book appear?”
“But of course, my dear honored friend. Everything has been taken care of. I’ve already spoken to Singule. He will arrange for the funds from the foundation.”
“Is Singule here as well?”
“Of course. We can go see him together. He and his wife are running the registration for the Sociology Conference.”
Led by Peter, we worked our way through the throng and passed a carousel on which Michael rode around with Leslie, Mrs. Byrdwhistle’s boy. The children didn’t see me, even though I waved to them. After a few attempts, we got lost and were set on the right path by the operator of a Ferris wheel, and finally managed to reach a shooting gallery, which served as the registration booth. Klara Singule offered guns to the guests, while her husband sold tickets and also appeared to be handing out the prizes. I was greeted warmly.
“It’s great that you’re here!” said Frau Singule. “My husband will be so pleased! It’s only a shame that he has so little time. He never has time.”
Yet when I looked at the ever-busy Singule, he nonetheless let everything lie and stood up.
“Landau, you managed all right after all! You’re something else. It’s just a shame that you’re not a biologist. But you do come from Latvia, Riga, or somewhere?”
“No, you’re mistaken, Herr Dr. Singule.”
“I see, I see. But that doesn’t matter. Your book will be printed, in Latvia or some other country, there’s no essential difference. The main thing is that you are from some country. Meanwhile, in all honesty you should know that you should call me Singule. Just Singule. Don’t say ‘Doctor’; I can’t stand it.”
“That’s not so important, Eduard! Let’s focus on the matter at hand. We have to do something for our dear Landau.”
“You have a point, Klara, that’s clear. If only he were from some country. You’ll take care of that, right?”
“Yes, I come from somewhere.”
“Excellent. Here we have a check that should be enough to cover living expenses for one to two years. We’ll also make other means of support available to you as well. And then your book, I already said, indeed, it will be printed. People have said marvelous things about it; it’s been well received. Congratulations!”
“You don’t in fact know my work, Herr Singule.”
“Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter. Why does one have to know someone’s work? I know you, we all know you. That’s all we need. Here, take this letter that states we’ve accepted it, and tomorrow send us the stuff so that we can begin printing it. In no more than two months, you’ll have the galleys in hand.”
Someone pushed toward the counter and wanted to shoot. Frau Singule, who during this conversation took care of all the registrations, couldn’t hold back the crowd any longer.
“Eduard, you don’t have time. Can’t you see the sociologists who demand to be taken care of?”
The biologist then excused himself, and in saying goodbye asked that I dedicate myself to doing a study of people and how they suffered from vermin. I nodded as if I thought it a good idea. I already had all I wanted from Singule; now I could confidently ignore his time-worn suggestions. A guest who next popped up and wanted a gun revealed himself, on closer inspection, to be the good Herr Geschlieder from the museum. What a surprise it was to find someone from back there standing here. He was very happy to
see me and shared with me that a large delegation from back there had gathered at Shepherd’s Field. Instead of shooting, he held the rifle loosely and somewhat dangerously in front of him, such that he almost would have hit Frau Singule on the shoulder with the barrel except that the lady, as she saw that Geschlieder was talking to me, didn’t admonish him, which no one would have minded, but instead kindly said that I should also try my hand at shooting, she’d be happy to provide me with six free bullets. I thanked her but said I was no kind of shooter and offered the bullets to Kratzenstein, who also had no idea how to shoot. Then I invited Peter to have a try, but Frau Singule didn’t feel that was right, the free offer having been good only for me personally, and while she could go along with overstepping my bounds by passing it on to the Professor, it wasn’t right to offer my bullets to a stranger, no matter how respectable he might be.
Then Kratzenstein got involved in matters, saying the man was no stranger but, rather, the future business manager and head of advertising of the International Society of Sociologists. Well, that’s entirely different, the lady firmly assured him; with pleasure the man could use my six bullets. Peter happily stepped up and eagerly commenced shooting, while I carefully tucked away Singule’s check and letter in my coat pocket and left the registration stand with a polite goodbye. Calling after me, Klara Singule asked that I give her the pleasure of coming to tea with my wife sometime soon, and would I be so kind as to send Johanna over to the shooting booth for a little chat with her. Peter kept on shooting, and I was glad to be free of him. I would have liked to get rid of Professor Kratzenstein as well, but he watched me like a hawk in order to stick close to me. So I had to spend more time in his company. After a while we approached the mouse circus, where I was happy to come across Eva, who was with Anna. I exchanged a couple of words with Anna about Peter, whom she had already seen. My daughter then energetically interrupted us to say that she remembered seeing a little white bunny in the mouse circus. We didn’t let the child ask for too long before deciding that we would visit the mouse circus together. Anna and I vied to be the first to pay the entrance fee, then the Professor again insisted on providing the money for us all, but this time the attendant wasn’t named Mrs. Mackintosh but rather Inge Bergmann, who didn’t want any of our money.
“It’s very nice, Landau, that you want to have a look at my mice. Such sweet little creatures, I tell you, and so clever!”
“I love the little mouse-bunny. I love her so much, Papa!”
“Is this your little one, Landau? How sweet! No wonder, coming from you.”
“Yes, this is my Eva, Fräulein Bergmann. But tell me, how did you end up at the mouse circus?”
“So you really want to know, huh? But I’m not telling. Oh, don’t give me that look! Because it’s you, I’ll tell you anyway. Mice are much better than people. And I also want to write animal stories for little sprites like Eva. Therefore I need to brush up and study a bit of animal sociology.”
Inge Bergmann handed us tickets on which “Gratis” was printed. We moved toward the entrance, which was guarded by a friendly smiling trainman. I knew the face, but I didn’t really know where I remembered it from. The man indeed assisted us, recalling me from the gate where I paused with my ticket before him. He was pleased that I was no longer afraid of him, which he allowed me to say, and that I had reached my destination safe and sound. This time there were no ticket puncher or punching of the ticket, for I walked freely through this barrier and into the circus, where Eva’s cheering was even stronger than the last time we had visited, there being no way to draw her away from the stinking glass houses. I didn’t wish to spend any more time here, but Eva begged and pleaded, so we separated from Anna, who sweetly stayed on with the children in front of the mice. Outside, the trainman saluted, at which Inge spied us, and though I would have been pleased to hurry off, she called out to us, asking if I could, if I would please wait before just disappearing.
“Well, you’re a great friend to animals, aren’t you, Landau? Are you going to just take to your heels after seeing the little mice? A scandal, a scandal that you aren’t at all ashamed to do so!”
“I have a lot to do, Fräulein Bergmann. You’ll have to indeed forgive me. My little one is still inside marveling at the little mice.”
“Such a sweet child, such a sprite, and with a lot more heart in her than her father. An angel, that dear little Eva! But give me your word that you’ll return! Otherwise I’ll be angry with you.”
“If it’s at all possible, it will be my pleasure. I promise you.”
“At all possible … Don’t be so stuffy. You’re horrible, Landau, horrible. You deserved what you got!”
“Don’t insult my friend,” interrupted Kratzenstein. “He doesn’t deserve it.”
“Doesn’t deserve it!” Inge said mockingly, but then got hold of herself. “I hope you’ll recommend us to others. Please honor me with a visit sometime again!”
Then Fräulein Bergmann had to turn to new customers. We walked on and came to the tower for the slide, one of Michael’s favorite spots. Yet I saw neither him nor any other children, but instead only people of an older age, most of whom were idly standing around rather than holding a mat under their arms while climbing the steps on the inside of the tower, after which, in a tight snaking motion against the outer wall of the small chamber, they would pleasantly slide, the mat underneath them as they lay on their backs. The men who were in charge of what today appeared a lame undertaking looked very familiar to me, even if I didn’t know their names. The director of the enterprise was the nice official from the border police who had once interrogated Johanna and me. His assistants, who for the most part shifted from one foot to the other and chatted with one another, were policemen, border officials, and probably other employees of the railroad as well.
“What do these people have to do with sociology?”
“My dear Landau, not so loud!” the Professor admonished. “The gentlemen have many merits, but they are very sensitive and mustn’t hear you. That is the Institute for Esoteric Science, one of the most important academic institutions that is here today for the Sociology Conference.”
Esoteric science. I had to smile, for I didn’t have much interest in that. It made me feel queasy, but I didn’t want to let the Professor see that. Kratzenstein, however, was full of praise for the scholars and their subtle field of study.
“We couldn’t do without them. They work in the applied sciences, which is what underlies any study in general. Where would we be without these brave men! Everything is weighed and considered. All of it neatly plotted out, marked, and sorted, while connecting doors are placed in the erected walls. Security and stability. Just climb up, Landau, and just try sliding down!”
I didn’t want to hear anything about that, for the idea of sliding made me feel dizzy, which I even admitted to Kratzenstein.
“Don’t you want to climb up and try sliding down, Herr Professor? I’ll wait until you’re down again.”
I wasn’t having any of it, however, for I would have run off the moment the Professor entered the tower. But he didn’t provide me with this pleasure, no matter how much he praised the installation, but instead confessed that he felt even dizzier than I did. While I felt unsure on my feet, he said he was completely dizzy, and I considered what to do, for I didn’t wish to disturb his well-being by making him ill. That’s why I recommended that we continue on with our survey of the fair, but at that moment the director of the institute recognized me and rushed over to me with a broad smile.
“You have finally arrived, Herr Doctor, and in such fine fashion. That pleases me no end. You can pass in and out of our tower at no cost from now on.”
“That’s much too nice of you. I realize how extraordinary that is.”
I chatted for a little while with this gentleman and his co-workers, during which time I saw someone have his passport stamped in order to start the journey. He then whisked down from above, myself first paying attention
to him once he arrived below, somewhat lightheaded but happy, for he was flattered that Kratzenstein had tugged on my arm in order to point out the sight. I looked more closely, for by now the rider had lifted himself up from the mattress he had landed on and walked over toward me shaking with joy. It was Otto Schallinger, who greeted me with a wide grin.
“So I end up meeting you at the Sociology Conference—that’s terrific! How long has it been since I saw you? Prenzel only has to turn up, ha ha, for this miracle to happen! But it’s quite a party. I’ve already spoken to Herr Birch and Fräulein Bergmann, Kauders, and Dr. Haarburger.”
“So they are all here?”
“Haven’t you seen them?”
“Yes, Birch and Fräulein Bergmann, but not the others.”
“They’ll soon find you. They’re all just crazy about you. Arthur Landau is the buzzword of the day.”
“Tell me, Otto, are you also now a sociologist?”
“Me? No. Or only a bit of one. I am only a fan, but one totally smitten, for I’m interested by it all. If you want to observe people and want to know what makes them tick, then you have to be half a sociologist these days.”
Schallinger had a camera in a case dangling around his neck. It surprised me that he had gone down the slide with such an expensive piece of gear. Now he pulled out his apparatus and told me that he had already snapped shots of Johanna and all the children, including Michael, though he had to outsmart him. Otto also wanted to waste a shot on me, and since Kratzenstein was eager to have him do so, I had to be patient while Otto took pictures of us together and alone, the tower of the esoteric scientists always in the background.
“These are just the first unofficial snapshots,” explained Otto. “The official group portrait with you and all the important conference participants will happen later. I’m hoping to make a name for myself with it.”
“What makes you think that?”