The Room

by Jonas Karlsson

‘Well, there’s a desk …’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘And a lamp. Computer, folders, a filing cabinet, and so on.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Pens, paper, a hole-punch, a stapler, Tippex, tape, cables, a calculator, a desk mat, all sorts of things.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  A nurse knocked on the door.

  ‘Are you nearly finished?’ she whispered.

  I wondered what it was we were supposed to be finished with, but the doctor just nodded at her, looked at the large clock on the wall and went on.

  ‘Have you ever had any psychiatric treatment in the past?’

  ‘Of course not,’ I said.

  ‘Any counselling when you were in your teens?’

  ‘Hardly.’

  ‘You’re not on any medication?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘What about alcohol?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I’m asking you. Drugs?’

  ‘No more than you,’ I said.

  He shut his eyes and blew the air out of his mouth. He rubbed his eyes with one hand, and I carried on looking at him so that I could look him in the eye as soon as he decided to open them again.

  ‘Do you feel unwell in any way?’ he went on, still rubbing his eyes.

  ‘Do you?’ I said.

  He shook his head and sighed.

  ‘I honestly don’t know what to do with you,’ he said after a brief pause.

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ I said.

  ‘You don’t have to be unpleasant,’ he said.

  ‘Nor do you,’ I said, as quickly as I could.

  We looked at each other for a while. I was fairly pleased with the way this was going. I could tell he felt a degree of respect for me. You could see in his eyes that he wasn’t used to getting this sort of response.

  ‘Why are you here?’ he said.

  ‘Because I was sent.’

  ‘Okay, you know what? I think you should contact us again if you feel worse. It’s difficult for me to do anything about any other problems you may have at work.’

  He got up and went back to the computer.

  ‘I was told I’d be seeing a psychiatrist,’ I said.

  He shook his head gently.

  ‘I don’t know what grounds I could refer you on …’

  ‘No, of course not,’ I said as I stood up and took my flattened coat from the back of the chair. ‘Maybe you could talk to someone who does know?’

  ‘Do you know what I think?’ he said, in a completely different voice, almost a whisper.

  ‘No,’ I said, suddenly noticing the loud ticking sound that the big clock on the wall was making.

  ‘If you’d like my own personal opinion,’ he said, ‘I’d have to say …’

  ‘Yes, what would you say?’

  He looked at me for a brief moment.

  ‘I’d say that you’re putting it on.’

  28

  Inside the room there was a calm, a concentration that felt like early mornings at school. It contained the same relaxed feeling and limited freedom. Each line seemed perfectly connected to the next. Everything messy and unsettling vanished. Precision returned.

  I ran my finger over the desktop and felt the utterly straight line that was held at precisely the same plane by the flawlessly sanded and varnished veneer chipboard, which in turn rested upon the perfect frame: spray-painted legs made of metal tubing. I was sure that a spirit-level would prove the evenness of this generously proportioned work-surface.

  Beneath the desktop, inside the legs on one side, was a varnished document store on wheels with a cedar-wood frame. It was fronted by a matt wooden shutter that folded smoothly back along its rails as I put my palm on the front and slowly moved it upwards.

  The whole room breathed tradition. There was an air of old-fashioned quality to it. Is this what monks feel like as they walk the corridors of their monasteries?

  On the desk was a low-energy lamp, 20 watts, attached to a clock of shiny, stainless steel. The armature of the lamp was adjustable. One setting for the strength of light. A firm base on the desktop.

  By the side of the desk I discovered a lever that could be loosened so you could adjust the exact angle of the desktop. You could tilt the whole top to get the exact angle that you preferred. I adjusted it slightly to suit me, tilting it fractionally forward, downward. And felt how my other arm, which I had left idle, ended up in a perfectly relaxed position in which each part of the arm was firmly supported. Perfectly in tune with the furniture.

  As I was sitting there my mobile rang. I picked it up and answered it, and the sweetest music streamed out of it, into my ears.

  29

  The next morning we were summoned to another meeting in Karl’s cramped office.

  Karl tried to say something funny about small spaces, concluding with ‘tight passageways’. No one laughed. I took this as further evidence of his incompetence as a manager. Naturally, he ought to have chosen a more neutral topic for humour, there are plenty of innocent jokes about animals or ketchup bottles that didn’t necessarily have any association to the conflict in which we found ourselves, and which could function more generally as a means of raising morale. If he felt he had to make a joke. Because this really wasn’t amusing.

  Håkan had sat down on the desk with Ann beside him. He was wearing his black jacket, and I definitely preferred it to the corduroy one, but I tried not to look at them. Jörgen and John were squashed up against the wall, and I couldn’t help noticing that Jörgen kept nudging one of the big pictures, knocking it askew.

  ‘I think this is very unfortunate,’ Ann said before Karl had even started. ‘Is he really going to stay? I mean, we said—’

  Karl stopped her. He went behind his desk, and spoke in a loud, clear voice.

  ‘Björn and I have had a little talk. Björn has been to see a psychiatrist. Together we have agreed to get rid of …’ He held his fingers up in the air on either side of his head to indicate quotation marks. ‘… “the room” for the time being. Björn has promised …’ He turned to me. ‘… not to go there any more. Isn’t that right, Björn?’

  I assumed I didn’t need to nod. After all, everyone understood that I was party to this anyway. But Karl insisted.

  ‘Isn’t that right, Björn?’

  I nodded. Karl went on.

  ‘I think it’s very useful for us to realise that we aren’t all the same, and that some people see things in a – how can I put it? – slightly different way. But we’re all adults, and we should be able to get along regardless. Shouldn’t we?’

  He looked around, but found no sign of agreement. In the end he turned to me.

  ‘To emphasise the fact that this is a fresh start for you, Björn, I’ve taken the liberty of purchasing, at the expense of the Authority …’ He took out a bag containing a box and put it on the desk. He pulled out the box, opened the lid and held up a pair of imitation-leather indoor shoes. ‘… a small gift.’

  He handed them to me. I accepted them reluctantly.

  ‘There you go,’ he said. ‘Now, I hope we can concentrate on our work from now on.’

  There followed five seconds of total silence. Then everyone started to talk at once.

  ‘You mean he’s going to stay?’

  ‘Can’t you see he’s not right in the head?’

  ‘What the hell is he doing here?’

  ‘It’s a health and safety issue.’

  ‘If he’s allowed to carry on like that, I should be allowed to …’

  ‘He’s getting favourable treatment …’

  ‘But he’s mad.’

  ‘Really we ought to feel sorry for him.’

  Hasse from accounts shook his head slowly.

  ‘Now that things are so tough here at the Authority, with the threat of closure hanging over our heads constantly … I mean, we really need to be functioning at full capacity. We haven’t got time to be running some sort of day-centr
e, have we?’

  He looked round at the others. A number of them nodded. People starting talking all at once again. Karl managed to calm the mood temporarily, and Hannah with the ponytail tilted her head to one side as the prelude to a long-winded comment.

  ‘It seems to me that management’s way of dealing with problems of this nature indicates a certain degree of weakness.’

  Karl pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. Everyone seemed to be getting involved in the discussion, but none of them looked directly at me.

  ‘He’s a nutter, you have to admit that!’ said a young man whose name I thought was Robert. He was about twenty and quiet as a mouse normally, I’d never heard him say a word before this. But evidently he felt he had to speak up now.

  ‘According to the medical—’ Karl began.

  ‘But he’s mad!’ Jörgen said. ‘Anyone can see that. Surely we can’t have a moron who goes and stares at the wall the minute things get busy?’

  A few people laughed. Which only served to spur Jörgen on.

  ‘I mean, he needs treatment for that.’

  Hannah with the ponytail raised her voice.

  ‘Although I do think we should all be allowed to do what we like during our breaks.’

  ‘I’m not so sure,’ Jörgen said, to even more laughter. ‘I say: fire him.’

  It was as if they all felt like laughing and were prepared to grab any opportunity. Even though it really wasn’t funny. Karl waved him off.

  ‘We can’t dismiss someone simply because they are …’

  ‘But we’re talking about someone who’s mentally ill,’ Jörgen said.

  ‘I’d like to point out,’ Karl went on, ‘that Björn has been carrying out his duties faultlessly.’

  Hasse spoke up again.

  ‘Obviously he can do whatever he likes, but he keeps dragging the rest of us over there as well.’

  ‘Exactly!’ Robert exclaimed. ‘Like that time he wanted the whole lot of us to go and stand there.’

  He looked round at the others, who nodded. Ann turned to address Karl with the whole of her feminine authority.

  ‘I think it’s creepy, seeing him stand there like that. He’s so … It’s like he’s just not there.’

  As usual, several people decided to voice their agreement, and once again there was a hubbub of voices all wanting to have their say. Karl raised his voice to drown out the muttering.

  ‘Hello. Hello. Hello!’ he called, waving his arms in the air.

  One by one they fell silent. Karl turned to me.

  ‘What do you say, Björn?’

  I took my time, seeing as I knew what he wanted me to say, but I decided to stick to the facts, unlike the rest of them.

  ‘They say there’s nothing wrong with me and that I’m perfectly capable of carrying on working.’

  Several of them looked at me as if they’d only just noticed that I was still there. Hannah with the ponytail and Ann whispered something between them. Several of the others muttered among themselves, like they were still at school.

  ‘Well, surely we can agree …’ Karl began. ‘I mean, why don’t we say that it’s okay as long as Björn doesn’t go into the room?’

  There was a long silence. Then Jörgen stepped forward. The picture rocked behind him.

  ‘Okay, let’s agree on this,’ he said, fixing his gaze on Karl. ‘If I see him standing like that once more. Then he’s finished. Just saying.’

  Karl nodded with exaggerated clarity to show that he was really listening. Then he turned to me.

  ‘Do you think you can manage that, Björn?’

  I felt a knot in my stomach. But I still opened my mouth and replied.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good,’ Karl said. ‘So we’re all in agreement, then?’

  One by one they drifted away.

  30

  Late that afternoon the sun peeped out for a couple of minutes. Everyone in the department turned their faces towards the windows, but soon it was gone and shortly afterwards it started to snow again.

  I kept to my desk and wondered if I ought simply to skip my five-minute breaks and carry on working. Maybe it would be best to shut out everything else in the office and concentrate one hundred per cent on work? Maybe Karl and I could come to some arrangement where we calculated how much time I saved by not taking breaks, not chatting to my colleagues, not making private phone calls or running to the toilet every five minutes, like some of the older women did, and reduce the time I spent at work by the same amount?

  I took a deep breath and sighed. Getting authorisation for something like that seemed unlikely under management that was so hostile to positive developments.

  I pulled open the bottom drawer of my desk and put the indoor shoes inside.

  I passed the room twice that day. Once on my way to the toilet, and once when I tidied my desk and went to put two old journals in the recycling bin. I tried not to think about it. I did my best to imitate the others and pretend the room didn’t exist. It felt utterly ridiculous. Of course there’s a room there, I thought. After all, I can see it. I can touch it. I can feel it. I went round the little corridor once more, as if to check that the door hadn’t suddenly disappeared and I’d been imagining it all. But the door was still there. It was firmly fixed in the wall. No question. Solid. As clear as day. It almost made me laugh. I nudged it with my elbow as I walked past it the second time. I heard the sound as the fabric of my jacket touched it. And when all the others were off at lunch, I couldn’t see any reason not to go in there for a short while, the tenth time.

  31

  After lunch we were all called to yet another meeting in Karl’s office. I didn’t understand how it could have happened, but I assumed someone must have seen me sneak into the room even though I had taken all reasonable precautions. I prepared myself for the worst.

  ‘Well?’ Karl said, when everyone had squeezed into his office.

  His gaze swept round the room and settled on Jens. I made an effort to look as relaxed as possible.

  ‘Well …’ Jens said from over in the corner. ‘I’d just like to know … how much those shoes cost?’

  ‘The shoes?’ Karl said, stretching to his full height.

  Jens nodded, with a self-important expression on his face.

  ‘I mean, they weren’t free, were they?’

  ‘No,’ Karl said, picking up a pen, which he drummed idly against the edge of the desk. ‘I took the liberty of—’

  Jens didn’t let Karl finish his sentence.

  ‘So how daft do you have to behave to get a pair like that?’ he went on, to scattered laughter.

  Karl gave a strained smile, holding the pen in the air.

  ‘Let’s just say that I have a certain amount in the budget for pastoral investment in personnel matters …’

  ‘That’s still not fair,’ Ann said.

  ‘No,’ Jörgen said.

  ‘This seems to me to be all too typical,’ Hannah with the ponytail said, folding her arms over her chest. ‘We didn’t get any contribution to the Christmas party. But apparently there’s money available now.’

  ‘Now listen,’ Karl said, leaning back in his chair with the pen under his chin. ‘That’s not the same thing.’

  ‘So he can turn up and get given stuff just because he acts a bit crazy?’ Jörgen said.

  Hannah with the ponytail held her arms out.

  ‘It seems to me that it’s very unclear what the applicable rules actually are.’

  Several people nodded.

  ‘The question is,’ Ann said, ‘what sort of signals are we sending out?’

  When we went back to our places John appeared alongside me. He put his hand on my arm and hissed in my ear: ‘I saw what you did at lunchtime.’

  I raised my eyebrows and did my best to look uncomprehending.

  ‘Don’t act all innocent,’ he went on. ‘I saw you. If I see you again, I’ll tell. Just so you know.’

  32

  The snow ca
rried on falling, and I carried on working. I tried to stick to my fifty-five-minute periods. I even tried smiling. Every time anyone happened to look in my direction I fired off a broad smile, but the whole time I could feel how suspicious everyone else was of me, trying to pretend I wasn’t there. Karl came over to our desk. First he chatted to Håkan, then he turned to me. As if everything was normal.

  ‘And how are things with you, then, Björn?’

  ‘What sort of things?’ I asked in a neutral voice.

  ‘Well,’ Karl said, and I could hear how unsettled he was. ‘What have you spent the last few days doing?’

  Naturally he didn’t want an answer. He was asking in that pointless way that people do when they ask how you are. They don’t want to hear about your health. They just want to hear their own voice, and say things they’ve said before. They want to make a noise in a social context.

  ‘Why do you want to know?’ I said.

  ‘Because I’m your boss,’ he said.

  I looked him in the eye and had a distinct sense of being the stronger person.

  ‘I’ve initiated a process for developing a set of guiding principles for the department, identified so-called focus areas, specific targets in various sectors, and gathered a number of criteria. I have chosen to call one of my focus areas “operations in the centre”.’

  I clicked to open the document and pointed at the screen.

  ‘I plan to use this to measure the benefit we deliver to customers. To that purpose I have drawn up a questionnaire intended to find out what you customers think about my services.’

  He looked at me.

  ‘Us customers?’

  ‘I usually think of you as customers.’

  ‘What for?’

  I allowed myself a gentle sigh.

  ‘Are you really asking me that?’

  Karl looked away for a moment and gazed out across the open-plan office. He put his hands on his hips and clenched his jaw. Then he looked at me again.

  ‘Yes, I’m really asking you that,’ he said.

  ‘I think you maximise your potential better if you imagine a customer at the other end.’