I nodded.
‘Then came the bubonic plague. Death spread from neighbourhood to neighbourhood, and the children were hit worst. Whole families died, sometimes one or two family members survived. A lot of your ancestors were children at this time, Hans Thomas. But none of them kicked the bucket.’
‘How can you be so sure about that?’ I asked in amazement.
He took a drag on his cigarette and said, ‘Because you’re sitting here looking out over the Adriatic’
Once again he had made such an astounding point I didn’t really know how to respond. But I knew he was right, because if just one of my ancestors had died as a child, then he wouldn’t have been my ancestor.
‘The chances of one single ancestor of yours not dying while growing up is one in several billion,’ he went on, and now the words flowed out of him like a waterfall. ‘Because it isn’t just about the Black Death, you know. Actually all your ancestors have grown up and had children – even during the worst natural disasters, even when the child mortality rate was enormous. Of course, a lot of them have suffered from illness, but they’ve always pulled through. In a way, you have been a millimetre from death billions of times, Hans Thomas. Your life on this planet has been threatened by insects, wild animals, meteorites, lightning, sickness, war, floods, fires, poisoning, and attempted murders. In the battle of Stiklestad alone you were injured hundreds of times. Because you must have had ancestors on both sides – yes, really you were fighting against yourself and your chances of being born a thousand years later. You know, the same goes for the last world war. If Grandpa had been shot by good Norwegians during the occupation, then neither you nor I would have been born. The point is, this has happened billions of times through history. Each time an arrow has rained through the air, your chances of being born have been reduced to the minimum. But here you are, sitting talking to me, Hans Thomas! Do you see?’
‘I think so,’ I said. At least I think I understood how important it was that Grandma got a flat tyre at Froland.
‘I am talking about one long chain of coincidences,’ Dad continued. ‘In fact, that chain goes right back to the first living cell, which divided in two, and from there gave birth to everything growing and sprouting on this planet today. The chance of my chain not being broken at one time or another during three or four billion years is so little it is almost inconceivable. But I have pulled through, you know. Damn right, I have. In return, I appreciate how fantastically lucky I am to be able to experience this planet together with you. I realise how lucky every single little crawling insect on this planet is.’
‘What about the unlucky ones?’ I asked at this point.
‘They don’t exist!’ he almost roared. ‘They were never born. Life is one huge lottery where only the winning tickets are visible.’
He sat for a long time looking out across the sea.
‘Should we get going?’ I asked after a couple of minutes.
‘Nope! Now just sit still, Hans Thomas, because there’s more.’
He said it as though it were not really him speaking. Maybe he saw himself as a radio receiver simply catching the radiowaves coming to the set. That’s probably what people call inspiration.
While he waited for the inspiration, I fished out the magnifying glass from my jeans pocket and put it over a red bug which was scurrying back and forth on a rock. Under the magnifying glass it turned into a monster.
‘It’s the same with all coincidences,’ Dad piped up again. I stopped playing with the magnifying glass and looked up at him. When he sat for a while gathering his thoughts like this before he began to talk, I knew something important was on its way.
‘Let’s take a simple example: I think about a friend just before he calls me on the telephone or arrives on the doorstep. Many people think a coincidence like this is due to something supernatural. But I think about this friend even if he doesn’t ring the doorbell. Moreover, he calls me quite often, without me having thought about him at all. Comprendo?’
I nodded.
‘The thing is, people collect those instances when both things happen at the same time. If they find some money just when they need it badly, they believe it is due to something “supernatural”. They do that even when they constantly go around broke. In this way, a mass of wild rumours begins to buzz about various “supernatural” experiences which aunts and uncles all over the world have had. People are so interested in this sort of thing, there are soon a lot of stories. But only the winning tickets are visible here, too. It’s not that strange that I have a drawerful of jokers when I collect them!’
He let out a sigh of exhaustion.
‘Have you ever tried sending in an application?’ I asked at this point.
‘What on earth are you babbling about?’ he barked.
‘To be a government philosopher.’
He laughed out loud, but then he said in a slightly more subdued tone, ‘When people are interested in the “supernatural”, they suffer from a remarkable blindness. They don’t see the most mysterious thing of all – that the world exists. They are more interested in Martians and flying saucers than in the whole of this puzzling creation which is unfolding at our feet. I don’t think the world is a coincidence, Hans Thomas.’
He finally leaned over me and whispered, ‘I think the whole universe is intended. You’ll see there is some kind of purpose or other behind all the myriads of stars and galaxies.’
I thought this was yet another informative cigarette stop, but I still wasn’t convinced that everything to do with the sticky-bun book was coincidental. Perhaps it was just coincidence that Dad and I had been on Murano just before I read about the diamond dwarfs. It might also be sheer coincidence that a magnifying glass was put in my hand just before I received a sticky-bun book with microscopic writing. But the fact that I was the one to get the sticky-bun book – that was something which must be intentional.
FIVE OF CLUBS
… it had already become
a bit difficult to play cards …
When we arrived in Ancona that evening, Dad was so quiet he almost scared me. While we sat in the car and waited to drive on board, he just stared at the ship without saying a word.
It was a big yellow ship called the Mediterranean Sea.
The trip to Greece took two nights and one day. The boat sailed at nine o’clock in the evening. After the first night, we had the whole of Sunday at sea, and provided we weren’t taken by pirates we would have our feet on Greek soil by eight o’clock on Monday morning.
Dad had found a brochure about the boat, and now he said, ‘It is 18,000 tons, Hans Thomas. So it isn’t a washtub. It does 17 knots and has room for over one thousand passengers and three hundred cars. There are various shops, restaurants, bars, sundecks, discotheques, and casinos. And there’s even more. Did you know this ship has a swimming pool on deck? Not that that means anything, that’s not the point; I just wondered whether you knew. And one other thing: are you terribly upset that you didn’t get the chance to drive through Yugoslavia?’
‘Swimming pool on deck?’ was my only comment.
I think both Dad and I understood there was nothing more to be said. All the same, he added, ‘I had to book a cabin, you know. And I had to decide between a cabin inside the boat or a proper cabin on the outside of the boat with extensive windows and views of the sea. Which do you think I picked?’
I knew he’d picked the one on the outside – and I knew he understood that I knew this. That’s why I just said, ‘What was the difference in price?’
‘Some lire, yes. But I don’t coax my son to sea with me just to lock him up in a broom closet.’
He didn’t get the chance to say any more, because we were now being waved on board the boat.
As soon as we had parked, we found the way to the cabin. It was on the second from top deck and was beautifully furnished with huge beds, curtains and lamps, lounge chairs and tables. People walked back and forth on the gangway outside the window.
/> Although the cabin had wide windows and was rather grand in itself, we agreed – without so much as a word being spoken – to go out for a bit. Before we left the cabin, Dad fished out a little hip flask and poured himself a drink.
‘To your good health!’ he said, even though I had nothing to drink a toast with or was aware of any problem with my health.
I knew he must be pretty exhausted after having driven all the way from Venice. Maybe, too, he had itchy feet, because he was stretching his sea legs on board a large boat after so many years on land. I was also happier than I had been for a long time. Nevertheless – or maybe that’s exactly why – I commented on his bottle management.
‘Do you have to drink every single evening?’
‘Yes, I do’ he said, and burped, and no more was said. But he had his thoughts, and I had mine. So it was better to come back to this matter later.
By the time the ship’s bell rang for departure, we knew our way around the boat. I was a little disappointed to find the swimming pool closed, but Dad asked about it right away and found out it would be open early the next morning.
We went up onto the sundeck and stood leaning over the handrail until we could no longer see land.
‘Right,’ said Dad. ‘We are now at sea, Hans Thomas.’
Following this well-thought-out remark, we went down to the restaurant for dinner. After we had eaten, we agreed to play a game of canasta in the bar before going to bed. Dad had a pack of cards in his inside pocket. Luckily it wasn’t the one with all the ladies.
The boat was crawling with people from all corners of the world. Dad said many of them were Greeks.
I was dealt the two of spades and the ten of diamonds. When I picked up the ten, I already had two other diamonds in my hand.
‘Girl glassblowers!’ I exclaimed.
Dad opened his eyes wide. ‘What did you say, Hans Thomas?’
‘Nothing …’
‘Didn’t you say” girl glassblowers”?’
‘Well, yes!’ I now replied. ‘I was talking about those women at the bar. They’re sitting holding their drinks as though that’s the only thing they’ve done all their lives.’
I thought I was pretty clever to get myself out of that one. But it had already become a bit difficult to play cards. It was almost like playing with the cards Dad had bought in Verona. When I placed the five of clubs on the table, I could only think of the little fieldworker whom Baker Hans had met on the strange island. When a diamond was put on the table, I saw before me some graceful female figures with pink dresses and silver hair. And when Dad threw down the ace of hearts on the table and carried away the six and the eight of spades in a sneaky trick, I shouted, ‘There she is!’
Dad shook his head and said that it was time to hit the sack. He had just one important mission to accomplish before we left the bar. We weren’t the only ones playing cards there. On the way out, he went round to some of the tables, bumming a few jokers. Actually, I thought it was a bit cowardly that he always did this when he was leaving a place.
It had been a long time since Dad and I had played cards. We did it much more when I was younger, but after a while Dad’s passion for jokers had killed the old joy of playing. Otherwise, he was an expert when it came to card tricks. But his greatest feat was that he had once played a game of solitaire which took many days to win. To get pleasure from a game of solitaire like that, not only do you have to be patient, you also have to have a great deal of time.
When we got back to the cabin, we stood for a while looking out over the sea. We saw nothing, because it was pitch black, but we knew the blackness we were looking out on was the sea.
When a group of whining Americans passed the window on the walkway outside, we drew the curtains and Dad lay down on the bed. He’d obviously had enough sleeping draught – he dropped off instantly.
I lay on my bed, feeling the rocking of the boat on the sea. After a while I took out the magnifying glass and the sticky-bun book and read more about all the amazing things Baker Hans had told Albert, whose mother had died on her sickbed.
SIX OF CLUBS
… as though he had to make sure
I was a real human being made of
flesh and blood …
I continued through the woods. It wasn’t long before I reached a clearing. Wooden houses lay huddled together at the foot of a flower-covered hillside. A road, which was crawling with tiny people no bigger than those I had already met, wound its way between the houses. Further up the hill sat a small house all by itself.
There were probably no local officials here whom I could turn to, but I had to try to find out where on earth I was.
One of the first houses in the village was a tiny bakery. Just as I passed it, a fair-haired lady appeared in the doorway. She was wearing a red dress with three blood-red hearts on the chest.
‘Freshly baked bread!’ she said, blushing and smiling warmly.
The smell of fresh bread was so irresistible I went straight into the little bakery. I hadn’t tasted bread for more than a week, and here pastries and loaves of bread were piled high on a wide counter along one of the walls.
A trail of smoke from a baker’s oven seeped in from a cramped back room, and now another lady dressed in red entered the little shop. She had five hearts on her chest.
Clubs work in the fields and look after the animals, I thought to myself. Diamonds blow glass. Aces go around in beautiful dresses picking flowers and berries. And the hearts – they bake bread. Now I only needed to find out what the spades did; then I would have some sort of overview of the whole solitaire game.
I pointed to one of the loaves of bread. ‘Can I have a taste?’ I asked.
The Five of Hearts leaned over a simple counter made of wooden logs. On it was a glass bowl with a solitary goldfish inside. She looked me straight in the eyes.
‘I don’t think I’ve spoken to you for a few days,’ she said with a puzzled expression.
‘That’s right,’ I replied. ‘I’ve just fallen from the moon. I’ve never been particularly good at talking. It’s really because I find it difficult to think, and when you’re not able to think, then there’s not much point in talking either.’
I had already learned from experience that it did not help to speak clearly with these dwarfs. Maybe I would get along better if I expressed myself as incomprehensibly as they did.
‘Did you say from the moon?’
‘Yes, from the moon.’
Then you must surely need a piece of bread,’ said the Five of Hearts laconically – as though to fall from the moon was as plausible as to stand in front of a counter baking bread.
So it was as I thought. As long as I followed my notes, it wasn’t so difficult to be on the same wavelength as these little people.
But then – in a sudden attack of intensity – she leaned. over the counter and whispered excitedly, ‘The future lies in the cards.’
The next minute she was herself again, and she broke off a big piece of bread and stuck it in my hand. I put it straight in my mouth and went out onto the narrow street. The bread tasted slightly more sour than what I was used to, but it was good to chew on and filled me up just as well as other bread.
Out on the street I saw that all the dwarfs had small hearts, clubs, diamonds, or spades on their backs. They were dressed in four different costumes or uniforms. The hearts were in red, the clubs in blue, the diamonds in pink, and the spades in black.
Some were a bit taller than others. These were dressed as Kings, Queens, and Jacks. Both the Kings and the Queens had crowns on their heads; the Jacks carried a sword in a belt around their waists.
As far as I could see, there was only one of each kind. I saw only one King of Hearts, one Six of Clubs, and one Eight of Spades. There were no children here – and no old people either. All these tiny people were adult dwarfs in the prime of life.
After a while, the dwarfs noticed me, but then they quickly turned away, as though it didn’t concern the
m that there was a stranger visiting the village.
Only the Six of Clubs – who’d been riding one of the six-legged animals earlier that day – came up to me in the street and rattled off one of the meaningless sentences the dwarfs were constantly coming out with : ‘Sun princess finds her way to the ocean,’ he said. The next minute he’d turned the corner of the street and was gone.
I started to feel dizzy. I had obviously come to a society with an ingenious caste system. It was as though the people on this island had no lawbook to follow, only a pack of cards.
As I walked round the miniature village, I got the uncomfortable feeling of having ended up between two cards in a game of solitaire which just went on and on, without ever being completed.
The houses were low wooden cabins. Oil lamps made of glass hung outside, and I recognised these from the glass workshop. They weren’t lit, and. although the shadows had begun to grow long, the village continued to be bathed in the golden evening sun.
Numerous glass bowls with goldfish inside stood on benches and cornices. I also saw bottles of varying sizes everywhere. Some lay littering the streets between the houses, and one or two of the dwarfs walked around with a pocket-sized bottle in their hand.
One of the houses was much bigger than the others; it looked more like a warehouse. I could hear loud bangs coming from inside, and when I peeped through an open door I saw a carpentry workshop. There were four or five dwarfs bustling about, busily putting together a large table. They all had uniforms similar to the fieldworkers’ blue ones, the only difference being that these uniforms were completely black – and they had symbols of spades on their backs, whereas the field workers had clubs. With that, the puzzle was solved : spades worked as carpenters. Their hair was as black as coal, but their skin was much paler than that of the clubs.
The Jack of Diamonds was sitting on a little bench in front of one of the cabins, studying the reflection of the evening sun in his sword. He was wearing a long pink Jacket and a pair of wide-legged green trousers.