Authors: Thomas Glavinic
Heinrich pronounced the program frightful when it ended.
My partner merely shook her head.
The phone rang. With a sigh, Heinrich hurried out into the passage and picked up. Hello, Mother, he said. Yes, he’d already heard, he’d just been watching the program. He returned to the living room carrying the phone, which was equipped with an extension cord. Resuming his seat, he deposited the phone on the coffee table.
In a low voice, my partner asked what could possibly be going on in the heads and hearts of the parents; she dreaded to imagine.
Eva came in. Heedless of the fact that Heinrich was on the phone, she complained of the trouble she would have to go to replace the extension cord behind the bookcase. It was time he got out of the habit of phoning in the living room, she said. Heinrich made a dismissive gesture. Still on the phone, he picked up the remote control with his free hand and switched from channel to channel. Six out of twenty-five channels were currently reporting on the crime in West Styria.
We pricked up our ears when a German commercial station broadcast some dramatic news. It had obtained a leaked copy of the films the criminal had made of his victims. After much internal discussion, the editorial board had decided to televise excerpts from them at some still-to-be-determined time, but in the very near future, in order to give the world a graphic illustration of the enormity of the crime in question.
Heinrich uttered a yell. They’re going to show the video, they’re going to show the video, he shouted into the receiver and told the person on the other end of the line (presumably his mother) the name of the channel.
He started to hang up but was evidently dissuaded by his interlocutor. No, he said, Eva and he were not going to celebrate Easter in a big way, their visitors had come for a holiday, not for a Christian festival, and no, he wanted some peace and quiet; he definitely wasn’t going to Mass, so would the person on the line stop bending his ear about it. The Catholic Church, he declared, was a disgusting bunch of power-hungry hypocrites and pedophiles whose crazy German overlord posed as the representative of some nonexistent being. It might even have been one of his minions that had chased the Frauenkirchen children through the forest with his cassock fluttering, panting as he did so.
Heinrich said a curt good-bye and hung up, swearing to himself.
Eva snatched up the phone and replaced it in its cradle. She also participated in the argument over whether we should watch the murder pictures. Leaning against the doorpost and wringing her hands, she begged Heinrich to spare us.
She might be right, said Heinrich, but he couldn’t help it, he simply had to watch them. My partner said she felt the same way. I expressed a similar sentiment.
After some ten minutes’ argument, Eva said she would have to watch the program herself. Heinrich waxed indignant. Why talk such nonsense? He wouldn’t allow her to watch it—she would have nightmares and so on. She retorted that he was to blame, with his stupid news reports and accounts and descriptions. He had dragooned her into it. Now she wanted to watch it. So saying, she left the room. Heinrich jumped up and followed her out. They could be heard arguing in the kitchen for a while.
My partner and I exchanged glances. I was feeling hungry, so I went into the kitchen to get myself a slice of bread. My appearance put an end to the altercation between Eva and Heinrich. Eva cut me a thick slice of bread with a kitchen knife some ten inches long. Would one be enough? she asked. I nodded.
She opened the refrigerator and asked me what I would like on it. She picked up a salami sausage in her left hand and showed it to me. Transferring it to her right hand, she picked up a lump of Swiss cheese in her left and looked at me inquiringly. Then she replaced the salami in the refrigerator and transferred the cheese to her right hand. With her left hand, she removed a fresh packet of butter (organic, the wrapper said so) from the refrigerator. By passing objects from her left hand to her right in this manner and replacing them in the refrigerator, she was offering me a choice of toppings. I opted for cheese spread.
Eva apologized to me for no reason. This horrible business was getting on her nerves, she said. If her indisposition was blighting the atmosphere, she was sorry and would take care not to do so again.
We went back into the living room, where my partner and Heinrich were discussing the fact that the murders had brought, or would bring, reporters to West Styria from all over the world. This might give the tourist industry a boost, said Heinrich. In this connection, he pointed to the cannibalistic crimes committed by a certain Mr. Dahmer, whom he called a monster without equal. To the best of his knowledge, however, the hunt for Mr. Dahmer and his capture had not aroused as much interest in the media.
My partner objected that injuring, robbing, and murdering other people was commonplace in the United States, so those whose actions transgressed the socially accepted bounds of brutality could not expect to attract much attention there. In a civilized Central European country, by contrast, any murder was of
importance, and one such as had occurred yesterday in West Styria was correspondingly sensational.
Eva endorsed this view. She also apologized to my partner.
The latter brushed this aside, but she did express the belief that it was essential not to take the world’s misfortunes too hard because this was detrimental to one’s own well-being.
The Stubenrauchs now asked what we, being their guests, would like to have for supper. My partner reminded them of our Easter lunch. I begged them not to go to any trouble. Eva said she would like to make us something special. Heinrich and my partner persuaded her not to devote too much time and effort to supper. This would give us an opportunity to engage in activities that were more fun for all concerned (playing games, talking, etc.). Once agreement had been reached (spaghetti Bolognese), we devoted ourselves to the news, unchallenged by Eva.
Austrian Broadcasting’s news ticker was reporting that a German commercial station was planning to televise extracts from the murder video. Heinrich remarked that this was the first time ORF had advertised on behalf of a commercial channel. The news reported that the archbishop of Vienna had issued a statement. He appealed to the German TV station not to transmit the projected program because it would not only be an affront to the dead children’s memory and human dignity but also have unpredictable consequences on various levels.
Addressing himself to the West Styrian demonstrators, whose numbers were reported to be steadily swelling, he urged them to refrain from physical violence and join with him and the whole of Austria—indeed, with the entire world—in praying for the victims and their parents. The pope himself was praying for the victims, he added. “The holy father has personally assured the children’s parents of his profound sympathy and included them in his prayers.”
That’ll please them, sneered Heinrich.
Re: the possibility of beatification under Benedict XVI: “Members of the clergy have urged that the dead children be beatified, a suggestion opposed by a leading theologian. The victims have not been dead for long enough, he says.”
Reactions from the political parties: “The People’s Party speaks of a dark day for Austria. The Freedom Party expresses its belief that such disasters are encouraged by a judicial system overly favorable to offenders and proposes a referendum on the reintroduction of the death penalty. The Greens declare that the government parties have now been proved to have failed in respect of psychotherapy and the social services.”
The chancellor: “Evil exists. The federal chancellor has stated that evil exists and that it is the duty of the state to protect its citizens.”
Heinrich: Yeah, yeah, you loser.
Heinrich spent a while switching from channel to channel. The four persons present found it difficult to coordinate their response to these reports. A German station was showing live shots of demonstrators gathering outside the studio of the commercial station that was planning to televise the murder video in an hour’s time. Oh-oh, said Heinrich, and he switched to the murder video channel itself. It made no mention of the demonstrators on its doorstep. Heinrich switched back again.
The woman presenter said that hundreds of police were on their way to protect the TV station and its staff. More and more demonstrators were taking up their positions, armed with placards, signs, and banners. It was uncertain whether they would confine themselves to this noisy but nonviolent expression of opinion.
A police spokesman called it an explosive situation. What could be done to prevent the situation from escalating? he was
asked. All he could think of, he replied, was that the station should refrain from televising the tape. He was there to protect the studio, but he ventured to point out that he himself was the father of two children and would like to take this opportunity to send his condolences to Austria. He fully understood the demonstrators’ emotions. Things like this should not be shown on television—that, at least, was his personal opinion. There were people employed by the Austrian police who worried him. Far be it for him to prejudge his Austrian counterparts, but only a policeman could have leaked the video to the TV station.
The woman interviewer put her hand to her earpiece. She nodded and said, “More news just in.” In view of the mass protests, the broadcaster had agreed to transmit the video at an hour when children were in bed.
Or up a tree or under it, the policeman interjected in a strident voice.
The interviewer went on to say that it had been agreed to transmit the program at 11:30 p.m. In spite of the demonstrations, there was no discernible reason why the transmission should be dispensed with altogether. Certain matters escaped human comprehension; they cried out for pictures.
The policeman shrugged his shoulders. He could offer no guarantees, he repeated several times; the crowd was very heated.
Heinrich clapped his hands. Half past eleven, then! he said.
Eva rose and said she would make supper. My partner followed her into the kitchen. Their argument over whether my partner, being a guest, was entitled to help make the sauce—after all, she said, she had helped Eva the day before—was audible in the living room.
Heinrich searched for other television channels reporting on the murders. There was no more news for a while. Then Austrian television announced in a ticker at the foot of the screen that the
federal president intended to address the nation during the
News in Pictures
program at 7:30 p.m. Moreover, the evening program had been changed. In view of the occasion, the Easter Vigil service in St. Stephen’s Cathedral would be televised at 10:00 p.m.
Heinrich went into the kitchen to inform the two women. My partner came hurrying into the living room and asked if it were true the federal president would be speaking. I confirmed this. Heinrich, who had come in behind my partner, smiled and called it typical of the man. He made some more derogatory remarks about our head of state and was unsparing with his unkind comments on Austrian Broadcasting’s programmers, who were obviously dominated by clerics. It was outrageous of them to transmit Catholic religious services; what he’d like best would be to convert to Islam or Buddhism in protest. Remarking that he felt tremendously overwrought, he stretched out on the sofa.
My partner flitted back into the kitchen in her woolen stockings.
Under the ticker headline “Police cordon off wide area,” Heinrich found: “A sizable contingent of police and paramilitaries is currently cordoning off the area around the crime scene. From evidence that cannot be made public, it is suspected that, despite his obviously temporary presence in the Kaiserwald autobahn service area, the perpetrator has not quit the district. A suspicious car or suspicious license number has been identified.”
Heinrich asked me if I thought this possible. If he were the killer, he said, he wouldn’t have hung around. I pointed out that the man might be a local inhabitant. Also in favor of this was the fact that the victims belonged to the family of a locally prominent individual—namely, the fire chief. It might have been an act of revenge, I said. Heinrich said I had a point.
For fun, he concocted a scenario in which a farmer whose house had caught fire, only to be extinguished too late, had avenged himself in this way. I asked if he was thinking of the
farmer who had been dead for two decades and whose gutted house we had visited the day before. Heinrich burst out laughing. Then, wiping the smile off his face, he said the affair was really too serious to joke about. I agreed. He turned off the television.
News in Pictures
wasn’t on for a while yet, he said, so would I care to play a game of table tennis with him? I agreed. Having informed the womenfolk of our decision, we carried our drinks—beer in Heinrich’s case, apple juice in mine—up to the table tennis room on the second floor. We had to turn on the light because the windows on the second floor of the Stubenrauchs’ house were smaller than those on the first.
As I had the night before, I found while climbing the stairs that the smell of mildew permeating the whole of the Stubenrauchs’ home (probably attributable to the building’s age and poor insulation) was stronger in the table tennis room than in the bedrooms or downstairs. This did not, however, inhibit us from playing several games. Although variable, their outcome eventually proved beyond doubt that Heinrich’s proficiency at table tennis was superior to my own. He beat me 21:12, 23:25, 21:12, 21:13. It was then time to go downstairs again so as not to miss the news.
As we made our way along the passage, my partner called from the kitchen that we were just in time, the meal would be served in a few minutes. Before complying with Eva’s request to set the table, Heinrich said he must shut up the house first; he had no wish to be disturbed by an illicit invasion of cats during the broadcast or the meal.
While he was shutting every imaginable form of access, I went into the kitchen and complimented Eva on the favorable culinary aroma pervading the house. Eva replied that she was glad and hoped the meal would taste as good as it smelled.