Let the Old Dreams Die (45 page)

‘Nothing, it’s just…you two are like Romeo and Juliet. And I’m the nurse.’

It took a while to convince Flora how limited his involvement was. It wasn’t made any easier by the fact that he felt hurt by her bitterness, and by the idea that he was somehow responsible for what his father and sister were doing, when he didn’t even know what it was. Eventually, however, she kissed him on the forehead, on the cheeks, on the lips and said, ‘I’m sorry. I just get so…this is important to me. It’s almost…the only thing that matters.’

Kalle waited for some small correction, some acknowledgement that he was important too, or could be. Nothing. He could only cling to that
almost
and hope it covered him.

When they went back into the kitchen Maja was reading the article again. She looked up at them and assessed the situation: ‘Friends?’

They both nodded.

‘Good. I’m just wondering about this “thorough pathological investigation”. Wondering what they mean.’

Flora and Maja looked at Kalle. He shrugged his shoulders.

‘Haven’t a clue.’

lab. 4.11
Resectio intestinalis partialis, pulmones, linalis et renes. Nil reactio. Functio cerebri immatatus.

lab. 4.12
Collum femoris extirpatio cum extremitas inferiora. Epicondylus
humeri extirpatio cum extremitas superiora. Nil reactio. Functio cerebri immatatus.

lab. 5.2
Exeres medulla oblongata (thoracalis). Paraplegia superior.

From
Ordfront Magazine
, April 2004

…among those in power who like to remain hidden, the so-called Association holds a particularly strong position. It is an organisation comprising loosely linked interest groups, which has some influence on both Parliament and the government.

The Association was originally known as Bentham’s Friends. It was formed in 1908 as a discussion group centred around the ideas of Jeremy Bentham, who is regarded as the father of utilitarianism; Peter Singer is probably his best known successor.

Bentham’s Friends developed strong links with the Institute of Racial Biology at the University of Uppsala. After the end of the war the group ceased to exist—on paper. These days it has no name, no headquarters and no known register of members. But it remains influential.

Utilitarianism has been called an attempt to make a religion out of practical logic. By looking at the factual effects of a decision rather than its ethical or moral content, it is claimed that society can be led to decisions that are more sensible in the long term.

For many, utilitarianism acts mainly as a kind of touchstone. It can be beneficial to measure ideas and convictions against its unsentimental logic. Few seriously believe that utilitarianism can function as the underpinning ideology of a society, since it all too often goes directly against standard morality.

However, the Association believes that it can.

[---]

Love. It changes everything.

Kalle’s activities and days had acquired a direction. If he drove Tropicos to a gig, it was so that he could go home to Flora afterwards. If he worked out a new beat for Funkface, he could play it to Flora. When he found an old carton of cream right at the back of the fridge, he saw that the use-by date was before he met Flora. Therefore it could be thrown away.

Big things, small things. He thought perhaps that’s exactly what love is: everything is connected to another person. To be alone is to be a pair of seeing eyes, hearing ears, registering. A meter. Nothing. To be in love is to relate to someone else, to know:
another person exists
. And life expands, acquires something resembling a meaning. That’s what he thought.

When they had been together for a week, Flora took him to meet her grandmother Elvy in Täby. She had told him that her grandmother had the same ability as her, and to Kalle’s relief Elvy seemed to see the same thing as Flora. He had her approval.

As they sat drinking coffee in Elvy’s kitchen, the topic came up again. Elvy asked what Kalle did and he told her about Tropicos, at which point Flora chipped in and mentioned the trips to the Heath. Elvy fell silent and looked Kalle in the eye.

‘You
work
there?’

Kalle sighed. Here we go again. ‘I’ve just moved a few things in the van, that’s all.’

‘What kind of things?’

Kalle had realised that there was absolutely no point in being
mysterious. ‘Hospital stuff. They’ve built some kind of…clinic there.’

Elvy looked sharply at Flora, who shook her head. ‘I don’t know either. Something’s going on. Something…terrible. I don’t know what it is.’

This was news to Kalle. ‘How do you know that?’

‘I’ve been there. Outside. I can feel it.’

‘Do you still go there?’

Flora looked at him, her expression uncomprehending. ‘Yes. Why wouldn’t I?’

Kalle had no answer to this. Without really thinking about it he had assumed that he had saved Flora from her loneliness, her obsession when he picked her up in the van that night. She hadn’t mentioned the Heath much since they met, but now he realised this was perhaps out of consideration for him. He was brought back to reality by Elvy placing a hand on his arm.

‘What does it look like in there?’ she asked.

‘Well, it’s…empty. Desolate.’

‘I mean the security. How tight is it?’

‘There are guards more or less everywhere. Submachine guns, the lot.’

Elvy nodded and thought for a moment. Then she looked at him, her expression serious. ‘If you wanted to get inside, how would you go about it?’

Kalle smiled. ‘Well, I suppose I’d just drive the van in.’

‘Can you take me in?’

Kalle laughed and looked at Flora. To his surprise she didn’t smile back, but simply looked at him, waiting for him to answer the question. Kalle wound a dreadlock around his index finger as an unpleasant feeling grew in his stomach.

‘Yeees…but why?’

‘Hasn’t Flora told you?’

‘She’s told me some things.’

Flora looked down at the table and said quietly, ‘I didn’t really want to drag him into it.’

Elvy folded her arms and stared at them both with the severity of an interrogator. Then she said, ‘In that case I think you need to reconsider. This could be our only chance.’

Flora nodded. ‘I know.’

Kalle looked from one to the other. ‘Hang on, this chance you’re talking about—would that be me?’

Their silence was answer enough.

A great deal was explained that afternoon. When Kalle and Flora got back to his apartment in the evening, his head was spinning. They played a few games of Mario Kart so they wouldn’t have to talk or think. Kalle had bought a Gamecube so that he could practise on his own, but he still had no chance against Flora. He could win the odd round, but never a whole tournament.

He had just driven into the ravine on Rainbow Road for the third time when the phone rang. Kalle paused and looked at the caller display. It was his father. He glanced at Flora, took a deep breath and answered.

Things needed moving.
From
the compound this time. At ten o’clock tonight. Flora didn’t take her eyes off him while he was talking, and the unpleasant sensation in his stomach moved up a gear. When he had hung up he stared at the TV screen for a while, where his car was just being dropped back onto the track, frozen in the air. He turned to Flora, weighing every word:

‘I need to ask you something. Did you get together with me because I’m…a chance?’

‘Is that what you think?’

‘I don’t know what to think, to be honest.’

Flora put down the handset and shook her head.

‘No. But you are a chance. As well. And I have to…make the most of it. Unfortunately.’

At last Kalle had the opportunity to ask the question that had been going round and round in his head since the conversation with Elvy that afternoon. ‘Why?’

Flora didn’t say anything for such a long time that he thought she wasn’t going to answer, but eventually she said, ‘Because nobody else will do it. Nobody else can do it. I’ve been burdened with a terrible responsibility. Which I don’t want. But I can’t just run away from it. That would be…wrong of me.’ She looked up at Kalle. ‘To use your sister’s terminology, I would be contributing to the misery of the world. By not doing anything.’

Kalle nodded, accepting what she said. He lowered the car onto the track. Flora was home before he’d even started his last run.

At half past eight they parked the van where it couldn’t be seen from the Heath and walked the last few hundred metres to the fence, on the opposite side from the entrance. They sat down to practise. It would be impossible for Kalle to get away with having Flora hidden in the van unless he could mask his thoughts. The field was not as strong outside the fence as it was inside, but on the other hand Flora’s ability to read thoughts was better than that of the guards.

They sat down cross-legged opposite one another. Kalle opened his hands wide.

‘So what do we do?’

‘Don’t think about a polar bear,’ said Flora.

‘A polar bear?’

‘Yes. Don’t think about it.’

Kalle made an effort not to think about a polar bear. First of all he thought of a blackboard. A piece of chalk appeared and started to draw the outline of a polar bear. He erased the blackboard and thought about a beach with palm trees, like the one on the Tropicos’
bus—an impossible location for a polar bear. A cloud drifted across the tropical sky, forming itself into a polar bear. Kalle shook his head and asked Flora, ‘Are you doing this?’

‘I’m not doing anything.’

‘Has it got something to do with the fact that we’re here?’

‘No, that’s just the way it is. If you tell somebody not to think about something, it’s hopeless. The polar bear won’t disappear until you forget about it.’

‘Could you see what I was thinking?’

‘Yes. Chalk. A cloud.’

‘OK. Can I try again?’

‘Mm. Don’t think about a giraffe.’

Kalle thought about a giraffe on the savannah. It was nibbling leaves from a tall tree. Flora burst out laughing.

‘Well, that’s just—’

Kalle held up one hand. ‘Wait.’

He started drumming over the picture. Laid down, appropriately enough, an African rhythm on top of the giraffe. The animal’s legs moved as if it were dancing to the music. Then Kalle took the drumsticks that were beating out the rhythm and started to hit the picture, banging and banging until it broke into pieces and dissolved into a disjointed collection of colours. Flora stared at him, searching for the giraffe. But there was nothing but the rhythm.

She nodded. ‘Say something.’

‘Like what?’

‘Tell me something. Not about the giraffe.’

Kalle searched beneath, behind the rhythm for words and contexts, but the fact that Flora had uttered the word made the orange and black patches on the giraffe’s coat begin to take shape. He could just see the outlines of the body; he drummed louder and said at the same time, ‘I’ve met this girl called Flora. She’s got some strange hobbies. At the moment I’m sitting by a fence doing
some kind of workout for the brain. I say the word giraffe without thinking about a giraffe and I really like the look on her face right now as she tries to find the giraffe that isn’t there.’