Authors: Thomas Glavinic
He called to the women in the kitchen, asking where they’d gotten to. We could go on with our game, he said. When there was no response, he went to persuade them to return. I followed him out, so I witnessed Eva reproaching Heinrich for giving the
murder story no rest. She didn’t feel like going on with the game as long as the remote control was within his reach.
Laughing, Heinrich promised not to turn it on again until 11:30, even though we would, with such tragic finality, have missed the wonderful televised Mass. We were heretics, he said; we hadn’t even had our food consecrated.
Eva was about to reply when we heard a crash upstairs. We all stared at each other.
What was that? my partner exclaimed.
Heinrich shrugged his shoulders.
There’s someone up there, my partner cried loudly.
Before we could respond in any way, she reiterated her cry of alarm and dashed to the front door. She turned the key twice and wrenched it open, evidently intending to leave the house just as she was, dressed only in a cardigan, T-shirt, and jeans with panties underneath, and wearing no shoes on her stocking feet.
Heinrich restrained her. She mustn’t go imagining things, he said; there was no one upstairs, but if it would reassure her, he’d go and look. My partner did, in fact, come to a halt. She even locked the door again, but she refused to leave the spot.
Heinrich went to a medium-sized chest in the passage and took out a flashlight because he might have to go up into the loft, which had no electric light installed. Did he mean to go up there by himself? my partner demanded. Was he crazy?
Heinrich answered the first question in the affirmative, the second in the negative.
I offered to accompany him. My partner said she wouldn’t let me; it might be better to call the police and enlist their help. Heinrich told her not to be ridiculous. The police quickly became overburdened with such calls and unable to perform their proper duties in a regulation manner.
To simplify the situation, I suggested that all four of us go; that way, no one need be worried about anyone else.
What gives you that idea? my partner demanded; she would be all the more worried about herself and everyone else. No one and nothing would induce her to go up there. She would sooner summon help from the authorities. Even if this step might seem ridiculous in normal times, the guardians of the law would surely sympathize with such fears on a day like this and might even be grateful for information that could lead to the killer’s capture.
Heinrich vigorously contested this. He had no intention of making himself look a fool in front of the police. He was going to have to live here for a long time. Did he want to be known at the police station as the idiot who’d called the police because of a creaking beam? No, he certainly wasn’t going to run that risk. So saying, he made for the stairs leading to the second floor.
However, my partner prevented him from carrying out his intention of investigating the mysterious crash on his own. Stirring from the spot for the first time since her abortive attempt to escape, she caught hold of the belt around his bathrobe. He wasn’t going up there on his own, she said; she wouldn’t allow it.
Heinrich came to a standstill, although his physical superiority would undoubtedly have enabled him to shake off the restraint. He burst out laughing.
She didn’t find it funny, Eva said indignantly. Something had to be done. That noise just now really did defy rational explanation. Perhaps they ought to enlist the help of the farmer and his wife.
That was all he needed, Heinrich exclaimed. What was this—blind panic coupled with stupidity? Besides, he doubted their neighbors were back from church yet. The two women should compel themselves to view the situation in a levelheaded manner.
For a while, we all remained where we were in the passage, my partner still clinging to Heinrich’s belt. We strained our ears and thought it over.
Eva wanted to discuss the matter as unemotionally as possible, she said. Heinrich would probably not encounter anything dangerous up there, but a certain risk remained. What did he propose to do if, contrary to expectation and mathematical probability, he suddenly found himself confronted by the camera killer in a second-floor room? He possessed immense physical strength, it was true, but the murderer would certainly take advantage of the surprise element. He might be lurking behind a door and attack him unexpectedly. Heinrich should at least be armed. She was thinking of a kitchen knife.
Heinrich retorted that he was not adept at knifeplay and that resorting to such a dubious weapon could very quickly rebound on an unskilled defender. Eva sternly enjoined him to take the matter more seriously.
After reflecting for a moment, Heinrich sighed and agreed to take an ax with him for purposes of self-defense. Eva applauded that decision. My partner, on the other hand, looked worried and would not be weaned from her proposal that we call the police for assistance. Heinrich rejected this, tapping his forehead.
When my partner learned that fetching the ax would first entail another visit to the cellar, she wouldn’t hear of it. She made a lightning dash for the telephone, and Heinrich had some difficulty in wresting the receiver from her grasp and hauling her away from the handset. She loudly pointed out the dangers of a trip to the cellar: how easy it would be for the murderer, if he were outside, to capture him and, possibly, start filming.
To resolve the situation, I expressed my full approval of Heinrich’s suggestion. Partly ignoring my partner’s resistance and
partly neutralizing it by exerting physical strength, I opened the door for Heinrich and locked it behind him.
While waiting, Eva and I spoke soothingly to my partner. She abandoned the idea of phoning the police after Eva had argued that such a call might shed an adverse light on her mental state.
There was a knock, and I opened the door without hesitation. Attired in his bathrobe, which was sodden with rain, Heinrich entered, ax in hand. He wasted no time in going upstairs. I followed him. The women plucked up their courage and climbed the stairs too.
Once on the second floor, we turned on the lights in one room after another but found nothing suspicious or out of the ordinary. That left the loft. My partner said she wasn’t going up there and made a final attempt to dissuade us from searching it.
If he heard the word
police
one more time, cried Heinrich, he would forget himself and fetch his video camera or do some other nasty things.
Having already climbed the narrow ladder ahead of me, he opened the hatch with his free hand and reached behind him. I passed him the flashlight. Before he plunged his head into the darkness of the loft, he uttered several thunderous challenges. Anyone there? he called. No answer.
The pattering of the rain could be heard at considerably greater volume, and we were enveloped in a cold draft. Eva and my partner remained standing at the foot of the ladder. Heinrich played his flashlight over the loft. It took us a while to solve the mystery: Via some secret route, two cats had succeeded in sheltering there from the storm. Once in the loft, they had evidently romped around. In the course of their cavorting, an open bookcase containing all manner of jumble had fallen over. This was what had caused the crash. When we transmitted this news to the women on the ladder below, it was greeted with hilarity.
Meantime, I briefly devoted my attention to the unusual appearance of one of the cats, which was endeavoring to hide from the beam of the flashlight: It was dressed up. I pointed this out to Heinrich, who laughed. During a family visit a few days ago, he told me, Eva’s nephews had asked her grandmother for some clothes for the cats. The old woman in question had given them a few crocheted garments, and the animal in front of us had drawn the short straw.
Let’s go back downstairs, he said.
Although the situation had resolved itself satisfactorily, there was something sinister about a pitch-dark loft with the beam of a flashlight playing over it, especially at this juncture.
Heinrich took the flashlight from me and shone it on his wrist. His watch said 11:20. Setting foot on the ladder, he communicated that fact to the women below and urged them to get a move on.
With considerable vehemence, Eva gave vent to her mixed feelings about our forthcoming viewing of the murder video and voiced the hope that the relevant TV station had since been shut down by the police or stormed by demonstrators. Even though the latter procedure violated the principles of constitutional government and represented a criminal offense, she would nonetheless sympathize with the raiders and fully approve of their action.
Heinrich told her to stop bleating.
It fell to me, being the last one down, to shut the hatch to the loft and secure it with a metal bolt. This I did without delay.
On reaching the first floor, we dispersed to complete sundry preparations before the program began. Eva paid another visit to the bathroom. Heinrich temporarily stowed the unused ax in the hall closet and exchanged his wet bathrobe for some dry indoor clothes.
In the kitchen, my partner took a tray some three feet long and two wide from a small cupboard. On this, she placed three packets of Soletti pretzels, two packets of chips, a small bowl of peanuts, four far-too-meager portions of vanilla ice cream, four packets of wafer cookies, and a clean ashtray. I watched her meanwhile.
Heinrich called loudly from the living room that it was 11:28. The program had already started, but not the video yet. We hurried into the living room and took our places. Eva’s attempt to thank my partner for her efforts with the food was nipped in the bud by a harsh rebuke from Heinrich, who, lolling on the sofa with his legs crossed, urged us to devote our attention to the screen.
A blonde, overweight presenter was currently conversing with a bearded man of about fifty, the latter being described by a subtitle as a psychologist and theologian. The anchorwoman thanked him for his remarks, then turned to face the camera and addressed the viewers. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, “a terrible thing has happened, and it is still unclear what such a monstrous crime, which holds us all spellbound, may lead to.”
Gingerly opening a box lying on the table in front of her, the anchorwoman said that nothing seemed more illustrative of the world’s sense of outrage than the contents of that receptacle, which had been sent to the studio with a request to use it either on the murderer or, in the event that he could not be caught and they really intended to screen this frightful video, on those in charge. As she spoke, she removed from the box a rope with a noose whose manifest purpose was to encircle a throat and bring about the death of its owner.
People are beyond belief, said Heinrich.
The theological psychologist seated beside the presenter came into view once more. He was staring at the noose, shaking
his head, and expressing his stupefaction by muttering and gesturing helplessly.
Heinrich: That’s the theologian; before, it was the psychologist.
My partner: People are thoroughly evil.
There followed a contribution on the finding of the video. The gas station attendant who had discovered the tapes and camera was interviewed in the Kaiserwald autobahn service area. He pointed out the spot with his forefinger. Even we found it difficult to understand what he was saying in his Styrian dialect, and the German station supplied a subtitled translation.
Some character, said Heinrich.
The presenter said the station had drafted a statement about the forthcoming transmission, and she was now going to read it. Heinrich said she could stuff her statement; he wanted to see the video. Reading from a sheet of paper, the presenter said the TV station was fully aware of its responsibilities. This was precisely the reason for its decision to screen the video. The subject would be dealt with sensitively.
It was 11:43 already, Heinrich exclaimed, so what was all this crap?
Reading on, the presenter said it was time to put an end to American conditions in Europe. This case in Austria, Germany’s immediate neighbor, was of concern to everyone. A mirror must be held up in front of society, and the station was shouldering this responsibility.
Heinrich said the presenter was talking utter bullshit, and my partner endorsed this. The only one of us not to have eaten his ice cream, Heinrich picked up his bowl.
The video would be screened very soon, said the presenter. First, however, in case anyone felt the need to consult an expert after watching the videos, the telephone numbers of some psychological advice centers would be shown. This service was free,
barring a maximum telephone charge of €0.50 per minute. After a short commercial break, the video would begin. The telephone numbers were inserted.
Shortly thereafter, viewers were treated to the sight of a young woman being enjoined by her two little boys to purchase a certain cream-filled candy bar. Heinrich indignantly remarked that the programmers were taking their time with a vengeance. He switched channels.
The next channel was just reporting on the demonstration outside the transmitter of the murder video. Despite the lateness of the hour, hundreds of people were besieging the television studio. Their banners were inscribed with vulgar abuse. One of them expressed the belief that the TV station had commissioned the murders itself and paid for the films in advance. Some bore the words “Snuff Pigs” or “Snuff Killers” and “You Peddle Snuff.”
Eva asked what
snuff
meant. Heinrich explained that snuff videos were films that recorded real-life murders and that there was a special market for these. Eva said she’d heard of them. It only went to show how sick the world really is, my partner remarked.
Heinrich disputed this. During the Middle Ages, people had been beheaded in public, and the spectators, who turned out in force, had thoroughly enjoyed the sight. We were no better than the people of those days.
But we used to be better once upon a time, my partner retorted.
Heinrich shrugged his shoulders and switched back to the murder video channel. It was still showing commercials, a fact on which Heinrich commented adversely. It was 11:52, he said; were they going to take all night about it and end by singing the praises of Gigantico’s Super-Duper, Lightning-Fast Vacuum Cleaner?