The handkerchief remained in my cabinet for quite some time before I decided to do anything about it. It proudly gleamed opposite Juliska’s framed portrait and spitefully rivalled her fine, delicate features. ‘Don’t worry, Juliska,’ I would comfort her, ‘just think of the number of times his obscene snout discharged into it all kinds of slimy excrements and how persistently the poor thing needed to be scrubbed and ironed in order to achieve such perfection.’ I wanted it out of my sight, but my conscience, along with the fine silk-ribbon embroidery around the edges, prevented me from ruthlessly discarding it in the rubbish or tossing it back out on to the street where I had found it.
Then, one day as I was standing by the window, I caught sight of him again, crossing that very same pedestrian crossing. He was wearing the same suit, the only difference being that this time the warm rays of the sun elegantly reflected off the newly paved asphalt that sparkled like a sea of black onyx, which consequently connoted a little more luck for his sky-blue trousers as there were no broken chunks for him to trip on. It was a quarter to six. I had forty minutes left before I had to leave for the Opera, which would give me more than enough time to rid myself of the linen handkerchief.
I put on my winter duffle coat, armed myself with a pair of dark shades and stuck the handkerchief in my pocket. By the time I reached the bottom of the stairway (the damned lift was always stuck) he was already well ahead, turning the corner onto Bodajk Street. My initial plan, cleverly concocted three storeys earlier, was to catch up with him, kindly address him as ‘sir’ and hand him the handkerchief without any particular explanation. It seemed the simplest solution. But the longer I trod in his footsteps, watching his erratic gait and the strands of hair that coiled above his head like a nest of enraged vipers, the more intense and nauseating was the feeling the awkward man was leaving in my stomach. I couldn’t exactly swear by it, but every so often I thought I could detect a spasmodic twitch of the body, as if the Devil himself had taken control of him. Although revolting, his unusual behaviour had awoken in me a certain level of curiosity that I was unable to suppress, so I continued to follow and observe him – a choice that my rational side relentlessly kept trying to justify with the likelihood that I would eventually find him in a less macabre state and return the damned handkerchief.
Then I lost sight of him in the vicinity of the park on Kossuth Lajos Street. Children and dogs pranced around densely grouped birch trees while their nannies, mothers and masters followed behind – it was easy enough to get swallowed up in the crowd. I scanned my surroundings in an attempt to figure out where he could have disappeared to. The park was encircled by residential homes, except for the grocer’s located opposite the bus stop. I peered inside a few minutes later and spotted him standing between a stall of fresh vegetables and a tinned-goods aisle some ten meters from the entrance, studying a tin of stewed fruit. I then did as my instincts instructed, grabbing a trolley and setting off on a leisurely walk through the middle of the shop.
The grocer’s was unusually quiet for that time of day, with Sting and Pavarotti softly singing ‘Panis Angelicus’ in the background – a housewife’s idyllic afternoon ambiance. The pleasant atmosphere had a soothing effect on me, and the moment seemed perfect to finally return the handkerchief. I took a shortcut to the meat section with the intention of getting ahead of him, hoping that he would approach me instead of the other way around, but as our encounter was coming closer, there was something about him that began to repell me all over again, and I grew more and more uncertain of whether I was prepared to make contact with him at all. I finally hid behind a large fridge containing fresh meat and in a squatting position watched him through the glass. He headed towards me through the aisles at a pace that would make a snail seem lively by comparison. The cold air from the open cooler slowly penetrated my coat and the many layers of clothing. I was afraid that I would turn into an icicle should he continue at that pace, and I had already started to devise escape strategies when he suddenly stopped in front of the counter with household products, so that from my vantage point his right profile lingered above a pair of plump chicken drumsticks.
‘Well, well … haven’t seen you around in two whole days!’ bellowed a woman with perfectly coifed hair who was sitting behind the counter. The man grouchily mumbled something under his breath.
‘The usual?’ continued the woman behind the counter in an equally cheerful tone, evidently accustomed to his unconventional social manners. Yet, before even giving him a chance to reply, she placed two large plastic bottles on the counter. The bottles contained some sort of liquid, and the label bore a picture of a skull. I must have produced a noise, perhaps even visibly jerked back in surprise, because the man suddenly turned towards me, and I was once again given the opportunity – this time from up close – to encounter his peculiar gaze. I could feel the adrenalin rush through my veins, for it was then that it became clear to me why his stare seemed so enigmatic the first time I laid eyes on him: his left eye, made of glass, seemed to jump out of its socket and charge towards me like a ferocious beast. I handled the situation terribly and ended up making the worst possible move – I pushed the trolley away energetically and ran out of the grocer’s as if fleeing from a raging fire.
The Presiding Officer unexpectedly summoned the members of the Disciplinary Committee for a discussion. He had never before presided in a case in which both the identity of the perpetrator and the intent were established during the first session. Perplexed, he was uncertain as to whether there was any point in continuing with the proceedings or if the penalty should be pronounced immediately and the case excluded from the daily schedule for Chamber C of the Second Wing.
The members of the Disciplinary Committee gathered around his massive, solid-wood desk, and a murmur immediately pervaded the room. The murmur was loud enough to make Tobias feel uncomfortable, yet, even though he was making a supreme effort, he could not decipher a single word, as though the Committee members were speaking in a foreign language. Apart from the one female member, there was also a novice – a trainee, from his appearance – who was eagerly jotting down all his observations in a standard-sized notebook, as well as a somewhat older man whose facial expression suggested complete indifference towards the topic of discussion. The man in question was looking away in silence, whether out of lack of interest or in an attempt to avoid the missiles of spit that the Presiding Officer forcefully discharged through his whisper, since, as the last person to approach his desk, he had no other choice but to position himself directly across from the Presiding Officer, whereas the other two Committee members had cleverly assumed side positions moments earlier.
‘You may resume with the examination, Mr Diodorus,’ concluded the Presiding Officer, having ordered the members of the Committee to return to their seats. Tobias felt relieved at his words. He was well aware that he would have been written off immediately by any other judicial body had facts of this nature been presented, but, on the other hand, no decision would have been too surprising considering that this was not a case like any other, nor was this any ordinary judicial body.
‘Thank you, Mr Presiding Officer,’ responded the Prosecutor and flashed a broad grin for the lady in the reseda-green dress, reveal ing layers of plaque which to Tobias appeared thick enough to clog a sink. The woman in the reseda-green dress lacked the courage to smile back at the Prosecutor, but she nevertheless beamed with satisfaction knowing that the continuation of proceedings would grant her the opportunity to resume watching her skilful admirer perform his duties.
Tobias took a moment to contemplate the extent to which her obvious inclination towards the Prosecutor had influenced the Disciplinary Committee’s decision to resume with the proceedings. After all, it was highly unlikely that the third member of the Committee – the rather mature and disengaged gentleman – had contributed to the decision-making process, and as for the young trainee, although he clearly did make an effort, his lack of experience would have prevented his o
pinion from carrying any real weight.
It was a curious question, posed by the Prosecutor, that suddenly pulled Tobias from his thoughts and made him wonder whether he had unintentionally spoken his musings out loud.
‘Can you make an assumption as to why that is so, Mr Keller?’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t understand the question.’
‘Just prior to the discussion between the Presiding Officer and the Disciplinary Committee you confirmed that at the time the act was committed you were aware of the provisions described under Article 98a of the Causal Authority Regulations, which is why I am kindly asking you to do the following: take a moment to imagine the hypothetical situation in which you are dismissed from the position of Adviser to the Great Overseer’, the Prosecutor took particular pleasure in mouthing these words, ‘and appointed to the position of Lawmaker, and that it is you who must shoulder the weighty responsibility of drafting a set of regulations that governs the destiny of such a great number of people. Can you make an assumption, from that angle, as to why, without previous approval from the Great Overseer, a man in your position has no right to act upon the subject at his own discretion but is only permitted to refer him to the Guidelines on page 249?’
‘I am perfectly capable of making that assumption without having to resort to hypothetical scenarios, Mr Prosecutor,’ Tobias responded bluntly. ‘I assume that the reasoning behind that prohibition is that the free exertion of one’s influence or action at one’s own discretion entails an unnecessary risk and alleged endangerment of the subject.’
‘Alleged, you say? If I am not mistaken, Mr Keller, it seems to me that you are unappreciative of this rule.’
Tobias hesitated, then decided to lash out at everything for the sake of the truth, regardless of consequences. ‘The reason I choose the word “alleged” is because I disagree with it.’
‘Ah, I see. The defendant, my dear lady and esteemed gentlemen, disagrees with the aforementioned Article 98a,’ said the Prosecutor as he bowed his head before the Disciplinary Committee, and all but the third member of the Committee shot a stern look at Tobias.
‘And why do you disagree with it, if you would be kind enough to tell us?’
‘One of the reasons is that every action carries a certain level of risk. Not to partake in risky deeds – should that be possible at all – implies everlasting inertia.’
‘Not if the deed is authorized by a certified approval from the Great Overseer, which, you will agree, would remove the level of risk.’
‘Unfortunately, I would have to disagree with you, but since the reasons for my disagreement are multi-faceted and philo sophically grounded, I am reluctant to burden either you or the others present and will specify them only if you openly invite me to do so. However, as I am able to foresee the direction in which you are heading with your examination, I shall satisfy your curiosity by saying only this much: since it was very early in the morning, the Great Overseer was not physically present at the official premises, yet an urgent intervention was necessary. By obtaining official approval I would have absolved myself of any responsibility and probably would not be in the position I am in at the moment, but in the time that I would have required to locate the Great Overseer and obtain a freshly stamped document from his secretary, then return with it by hand to the office and submit it to the guard on duty prior to connecting the Extraordinary Activity Device to the faculty of my free will, the cyclist would have long disappeared from the scene and my attempt to intervene would have ingloriously failed.’
‘And your urgent intervention, might I add, was of such vital importance that in those early-morning hours you found it fit to abuse your privileged official position, betray the confidence the Great Overseer had placed in you – which, incidentally, should never occur to a Moral Issues Adviser! – and, with premeditation, devised right down to the minutest detail, might I remind the Disciplinary Committee, violate the sacred provisions described under Article 98a by means of connecting the Extraordinary Activity Device to the faculty of your free will and setting a trap for the cyclist in the form of a sizeable egg-shaped pebble!’
The Prosecutor was waving his arms in the air as he spoke, and his affectations aggravated Tobias to such an extent that he ended up saying something that he had planned to say when the time was right, but choosing a far more courteous approach, had the Prosecutor’s behaviour not provoked him. ‘Every good deed implies a level of premeditation. Otherwise it would be committed unintentionally and as such would not be considered a good deed.’
The eyes of the woman in the reseda-green dress bulged in disbelief, the trainee lifted his gaze from his notebook only to let his jaw drop to the floor, while the Presiding Officer assumed the task of converting their massive reaction into words.
‘For goodness’ sake, Mr Keller, this time you have really gone too far! Taking the liberty to call such a thing a good deed! And as for you, Mr Diodorus,’ he added quickly, ‘please do us all a favour and try to control your inclination towards theatrical expression!’
After the dust in Chamber C of the Second Wing had settled a few minutes later, Tobias felt that he had achieved nothing with his candour except for finally attracting the attention of the third member of the Disciplinary Committee. When Tobias unintentionally threw him a passing glance, he noticed that his eyes were already peacefully resting upon him.
On my way home my thoughts drifted to Noémi and her shapely, feminine calves, her red manicured nails and the sweet smell of rose oil she would always leave on the pillow. I wasn’t sure what made me think of her after such a long time – whether I was simply trying to block out my memories of the incident in the grocer’s or if it was something else – but my motivation was not all that important to me at that moment. What seemed paramount at that particular moment was to find a way to rid myself of those thoughts because my sudden desire for her was beginning to consume me and was producing a powerful sensation in my groin. Get a grip on yourself, Moritz. She is nothing but a minor detail from your sinful past; a case of bad judgement, I kept consoling myself as I climbed the steep staircase of my building, my heart pounding in my chest like a drum.
Returning home brought me back to reality, as the moment I walked through the door the clock on the kitchen wall warned me that I was running terribly late for that evening’s performance. I managed to get dressed in a record-breaking minute and a half, to iron my shirt in three, and an additional two minutes later I was completely ready to go. I was already standing at the door with my coat on when something compelled me to turn back. I knew what my heart was longing for because it had happened countless times before, so I glanced over the records on my shelf in search of a two-minute inspiration. An elegant black record cover protruded from the neatly piled classical music collection, the same place where I had once kept my old punk records. I took the record out of the pile and, after removing its cover, gently placed it on the record player. When I positioned the needle near the centre, a familiar warmth rushed through my bloodstream like a drug.
‘Ah, La Traviata,’ I sighed. Maria Callas as Violetta at the São Carlos National Theatre in Lisbon, 1958. The distraught Germont pays a visit to the gravely ill courtesan Violetta with the intention of convincing her to renounce her great love, his son Alfredo, in order to prevent the string of calamities his family would surely suffer should word get out about their scandalous affair. I closed my eyes, trying to imagine the stage of São Carlos and match Callas’s intense, resonant voice to Juliska’s innocent face, but instead of Juliska I saw Noémi – the delicate, translucent skin of her hands as she composes the goodbye letter to Alfredo in black ink; her dark eyes tearing up as she solemnly promises Germont in the libretto ‘Dite alle giovine’ that she would do what he asks of her and renounce her love. I attributed my obvious obsession to the likelihood that part of me was still shaken by what had happened, as when a pebble is thrown into a calm lake and it creates ripples on the surface that take a while to dissipate bef
ore the water becomes completely still again. I had no way of knowing at the time that the exact opposite was true, that my hasty decision to follow the man with a beak for a nose and a bed of snakes for hair would come to represent the moment of no return and that I was never again to come back to that blissful state of mind commonly known as self-delusion.
It is a well-known fact that the Causal Authority Regulations were not designed by the Great Overseer himself. They were drafted on the basis of his original idea by a group of legislative officials known as the Lawmakers. The Regulations represent a code through which all official persons operating under the leadership of the Great Overseer – just like Tobias – would honour his will and implement the principles of his established order.
Tobias Keller did not agree with the Regulations for a number of reasons, and one of them pertained to the actual basis of their existence. How can one truthfully depict the will of someone whose nature one can never fully know? The activities of the Great Overseer made him impossible to track down, and the scope of his duties was so wide that he sometimes had to be in different places at the same time. The notion that the Regulations presuppose, that someone was skilful enough to track him down, thoroughly question him and record all his convictions on paper – a task requiring several days’ work – Tobias considered ludicrous.
Rarely did anyone ever see the Great Overseer. Those who believed they had spotted him in the crowd or had caught a glimpse of him in passing considered themselves truly fortunate because they knew that he would soon disappear like a wisp of smoke in the wind. Afterwards they would always ask themselves if it was really him they had seen.
For that reason Tobias never fully understood on what precisely this set of rules was based. For the irony lay in the fact that he knew the Great Overseer better than anyone, being one of only a handful of people who enjoyed the privilege of being his close associate, and yet the individuals to whom Tobias had to answer in Chamber C of the Second Wing deemed it their right to represent his will with no justified claim to authority. They deemed it their right to represent a will that is above the will of all men and perhaps even – thought Tobias as a wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth – above the will of the Great Overseer himself.
The Tragic Fate of Moritz Toth Page 3