The Wall (94 page)

“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?”

“Very simple. I’ll offer it to the illustrated weeklies and the daily newspapers. It’ll fly out of my hands.”

“Otto is right about that” was Kratzenstein’s opinion.

Otto danced about me and made himself look important. Suddenly he suggested that we both make use of the tower. He recommended that we sit double on a mat, though he laughed at his former middle-school classmate when I said that I didn’t want anything to do with any of it. Schallinger had to give up the idea of me accompanying him, but not on taking a second ride alone, and so he said goodbye with a mixture of sadness and cheerfulness before running into the tower once more. I didn’t wait for him to come out and decided to look for Roy Rogers. On the way there, I passed the wagon of the Gypsy Fortunata, which I didn’t expect to find here.

“This lady is also here?” I asked the Professor, amazed. “I wouldn’t have dreamed that she would be involved with such serious scholarship.”

“And how! This year we swayed between making you or Fortunata an honorary member. Of course, the choice fell to you unanimously. But something will have to go awfully wrong for Fortunata not to be in line for it next year.”

“What does fortune-telling have to do with sociology?”

“You’re actually asking that? You can’t be serious! Without fortune-telling, scholarship would relinquish its reason for existing.”

“I see, I see. That never occurred to me.”

“But, dear Landau, don’t feel ashamed. You cannot say in all honesty that you yourself didn’t try to build a scholarly relationship with this lady. With that, you showed how useful it is for oppressed people.”

“How do you know my secret?”

“We know everything about you. If we didn’t know it, how could we make you an honorary member? The candidate always has to be examined from head to toe, the entire life story. For that, we have our own esoteric scientists.”

During this explanation the door of Fortunata’s wagon opened, and the Gypsy woman, all decked out and with a magnifying glass and a bundle of playing cards in her hand, stepped out smiling. She nodded to me in a vigorous manner to come closer, which I had no desire to do. Since Kratzenstein encouraged me with talk and gestures, I finally gave in and took some steps toward the fortune-teller. Fortunata smiled graciously, proudly walked down the three steps, and came over to me. I indeed wished to stretch out a hand to her, when I was struck by the appearance of a second figure, who happened to be dressed almost as gaudily as the Gypsy woman, standing in the door of the wagon and waving at me. This lady was exceedingly made-up, myself uncertain who the learned woman was, but Fortunata the All-Knowing took in my surprise with tireless grace.

“That is my friend Eusemia, whom you have to thank for your career. I have made this adept one my assistant and closest colleague in the institute for pansociological and metasociological deep research that I established. Does that surprise you?”

I was not only surprised; I was horrified. This development on the part of Resi Knispel I had not thought possible. I didn’t answer the Gypsy woman, but instead looked around uncertainly at Kratzenstein.

“Herr Professor, is this really for real?”

“But of course, my friend! How could you doubt it? Everything that we do is serious.”

Resi Knispel approached me without any hesitation and proudly handed me a prospectus for the journal
Eusemia
.

“Good day, Landau. Look, I managed to pull it off, you old toad.
Eusemia
is blossoming. You should have joined us right then and there.
Eusemia
is off and swimming like a turtle in water and is paying princely honorariums. I hope that at least you’ll now decide to submit your precious articles to
Eusemia
. If you have something that’s finished already, then give me a call and I’ll send Eberhard to you to pick it up.”

“What do you mean.… Is he there as well?”

“Settle down, he’s not there. We know how you feel about him. But he’s good enough for errands, and he finally gave us some names. Now all we need is for you to make a call. Agreed?”

“I’ll have to think about that a bit more.”

“My dear friend,” the Professor reminded me quietly, “there’s nothing to think about. We are all working together. An honor, a duty.
Eusemia
will be financed by America. Singule threw in some millions.
Eusemia
is for humanity, against nuclear war and moral disarmament, for bridging the collective isolation of mechanized existence. It is wonderful and necessary. Only then will the walls be torn down, misery will be averted, no one will have to suffer anymore. That is exactly what you want to have happen with your own oppression. In addition,
Eusemia
is the house organ of the International Society of Sociologists.”

“I see,” I whispered weakly.

“Please, Landau, wake up! I really should be scolding you, because you ran away from me back then like a mangy dog. But today everything is forgiven and forgotten.”

“Everything, everything!” Fortunata confirmed. “Eusemia loves you. Through her you can also convince yourself that you exist. That’s exactly what I told you, and I predicted a marvelous future for you.”

I had to talk for a while longer with the fortune-teller and was not at all left in peace until I promised to put my knowledge and expertise in the service of the institution founded by the lady and thus soon write an article that would lay out the quickest way to bring about the freedom from oppression. Fräulein Knispel tried several times to kiss me, but whenever she tried to draw close I hid behind Kratzenstein and thereby could avoid her advances. Luckily, some people came by who wanted to talk to the ladies about matters of deep research or fortune-telling, which I used to make a quick getaway. However, I had to promise to come see them again soon. Fortunata once again prophesized my incomparable rise. Resi Knispel said in a cheery voice, “Landau, you are now famous. That’s excellent. I’m proud of you. Until now, you got in your own way. But my efforts on your behalf did away with all obstacles.”

Then the seers disappeared with their clients into the Gypsy wagon, the door closed, and I was left free of the researchers. The Professor couldn’t keep from smiling.

“What impressive zeal! A practical woman this Eusemia Knispel, but one shouldn’t believe every word she says. She seems to be quite enamored of herself and has spread a great many flattering things about herself
throughout the world. The fact that she made you is, of course, complete nonsense.”

We moved off and walked between some booths where the academics cavorted about. Everywhere that I appeared with Kratzenstein vain frivolity held sway. Betty, Johanna’s dear relative, bumped into us and we exchanged some pleasant words. The sense of pride she had always extended to me was now justified, and I thanked her for her loyalty. Betty thought that I looked a little pale, and that it would do me good to rest a bit. Professor Kratzenstein heeded the suggestion immediately and led me to the concessions hall, where I met up again with my family and Anna. It was not in fact a hall, but all about stood some bare, dirty tables with benches in between the puddles and the rubbish. The setup reminded me of a scene in front of a mountain holiday lodge but, rather than quiet and clean, here it was loud and slovenly. The smell of cheap drink mixed disgustingly with the odor of onions, fried fish, and other cheap food that was fried in the cooking fat used in products that taste rank and give one stomach trouble, yet which in this country are sold in shops ad nauseam without any care for sensitive noses or palates, all of which disgusted me. I would have loved to just walk away, and I was already rubbing my hands with pleasure when I saw that there were not enough seats, which was why so many guests were standing, though as soon as we showed up two tables were cleared for us with exaggerated politeness. I had to resign myself to a brief stop if I was to avoid upsetting anyone. Herr and Frau Kutschera, under the jealous gaze of the Simmondses, were serving and were happy to see me. They brought apples and other fruit, and any proper snacks they had. Once again the Professor wanted to pay for us both, but Herr Kutschera would take money only for what the Professor ate, Herr Kutschera indicating that to feed me for free was the greatest honor that could be afforded him.

“Herr Doctor, I knew you; that was when you were still in high school. I always thought you had so much potential within you. If your blessed father could only see you, my dear, he would be so proud of you!”

I said that it wasn’t right for me to get away this cheap. People came up to me somewhat rudely to congratulate me, to hear my voice, to touch my coat, and to share pleasantries full of hot air. Dressed in a lightly spotted apron, Herr Nerad brought a bottle of Kalakto, which is a chocolate
milk the dairies over there produce, providing straws as well. I loved it as a child, but I had never had Kalakto in the metropolis. Other people I knew from the old days also were walking around. Frau Holoubek came up to me somewhat meekly, patting me and clapping me on the back. When I asked, she said that Frau Krumbholc had washed her last load of laundry and lain in the cemetery for some years already. Then Frau Holoubek and Herr Nerad reminded me what all of my relatives would have said if they knew how far I had come. These faithful souls couldn’t hold back from reprimanding me for breaking off my visit so abruptly and then disappearing so suddenly without saying goodbye, for they had indeed found things after I left, all of which they had stowed away, wanting only to know when I might come for them. I had to introduce them to Johanna and the children, whom they greeted warmly and gave some sweets. Johanna thought it was too much and that the children would get stomachaches. I had finally had enough of the concessions hall and excused myself. Unfortunately, I didn’t manage to slip away from the Professor this time, either. He kept right on my trail and clung to me like a brother, as if he had seen through to my intent.

“Today, my friend, you’re not getting away from my clutches, you runaway!”

We came to a stand where one could try to knock down piled-up coconuts with wooden balls from behind a barrier. I was happy that Michael was not with us, for he was always after me to let him throw these balls or for me to do it. The crowd shyly stepped back; the ones throwing dropped their balls to the ground and stepped to the side in order to make enough room for me and the Professor at the wooden counter.

“We’ve been waiting for you for so long already!” Herr Lever called out excitedly. “Hey, Mitzi, Herr Dr. Landau is here. Give him a coconut right away!”

Mitzi walked quickly and brought a coconut from a column.

“You gave us such a lovely tour of the museum back then. Unforgettable!”

“Nothing has changed at all. You’re really coming into your own! Would you like to have nine free shots?”

I thanked them for the offer, but I declined the free shots and then listened patiently to how the Levers never got their paintings, only printed
photographs having been sent to them in Johannesburg at quite a cost. Which was why—how shameless!—the paintings were on display here at the Sociology Conference, Herr Lever whispering to me, asking me to intercede if I came across them and say that they really should be returned to him as the rightful owner. It would be no loss to me, so I asked where the paintings were hung, but then Herr Lever acted secretive, saying that he would leave it to my scholarly know-how, but I should at least believe that he wouldn’t give a damn about sociology—“Please, no offense to you”—if he didn’t have any hopes of recovering the paintings. I said goodbye to the brave couple, whom Kratzenstein kept an obvious eye on. The Professor then recommended that we visit the law pavilion. On the way there, I asked what the coconuts had to do with sociology. Kratzenstein’s face grew bitter.

“Honestly, nothing at all. This South African merchant claims, in fact, that one could conduct better research in mass psychology at a ball toss at an annual fair than at a conference. I think that’s nonsense. But the Levers have piles of money and pay a lot in order to be members of our society. They also pay a high rent for their stand. That’s all right with us. But in fact they have other intentions—that I have long known. I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

The law pavilion was a middle-sized booth that I had seen for years at the annual fair at Shepherd’s Field but had never yet visited, as the name of it always put me off, for it advertised sensational crimes and misdeeds of a hair-raising nature. I shared my thoughts with the Professor, but he laughed heartily and sympathetically, saying it really wasn’t all that bad, for scholarship had nothing to fear or to be ashamed of. In the pavilion there was nothing at all that I had not already seen or experienced in reality. In fact, I had seen many things that were a whole lot worse. So I wandered over to the ticket booth, which had a sign on it that read “Reparations.” In the booth sat Dr. Blecha, who actually was the first and only person at the conference who was shocked to see me. Dr. Blecha said right away, with agitated haste, that I should not expect any deals because of my present position, and that he didn’t want to hear anything about Kauders, all of that had been decided in the negative, which even Kauders now understood as right, and what kind of dumb idea was it for me to send Herr Lever to him, Dr. Blecha. I said to the lawyer that I had just seen the Levers over by the coconuts, at which
Kratzenstein shook his head somewhat disapprovingly. Blecha looked grim and decidedly cool, saying how sensible that Herr Lever had finally given up his senseless efforts; now, at least, at his stand one could shoot properly. Then the lawyer rudely pointed a finger at my coconut.